


Mass Effect: Discovery

by Lilivati



Series: Nathaly Shepard [1]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Canon Era, Canonical Character Death, Cover Art, F/M, Friendship, Mass Effect 1, Novelization, Romance, Science Fiction, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:31:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 62
Words: 478,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14851092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilivati/pseuds/Lilivati
Summary: Sometimes, all it takes is one decision to change everything.  For Nathaly Shepard, it was accepting a new post from her old mentor, and a mission that quickly turned into a war.When a rogue turian threatens human civilization, Nathaly is forced to grow into the spectre she was perhaps never meant to be.  Amid the chaos of burning colonies and hostile AI, she forges lifelong friendships, falls in love despite herself, and fights for a home she never thought she'd have- while a secret fifty thousand years old threatens to take it all away.A reimagined Mass Effect 1, that keeps to the spirit of the canon while deepening connections between events and characters, delving into backstories, and expanding the narrative.





	1. A New Assignment

**Chapter One: A New Assignment**

The barrel of the assault rifle never wavered as the commander asked, calmly, “I’m sure you’re aware of your options.  How’s it going to be?”

The woman behind the desk glanced between the N7 markings on the marine’s armor, the gun, and the blue eyes only just visible behind the polycarbonate mask of the breather helmet, with an ill-concealed nervousness.  Still, she spoke with lazy contempt bordering on defiance.  “This isn’t Alliance space.  This isn’t even Council space.  This is the Terminus, Commander.  You have no authority here.”

“That’s where it gets a bit murky,” the marine agreed.  The heat sink indicator was fading to blue now, but Shepard didn’t need it.  The ease in the trigger was enough to alert her that the gun was once again serviceable.  That was Visagie’s first mistake- sitting in shock when she entered the room, even though the shots just prior were readily audible.  “Problem is, there’s no extraditing authority within the Terminus, and your terrorist network stretches all the way back to Sol.  So instead of a polite diplomatic incident, you get me.”

“Do you honestly believe the Council will stand for Alliance interference here?”  Visagie stood as she spoke, her right hand reaching casually for a drawer.

Shepard released a brief burst of fire into the desk.  Visagie let go fast.  “That’s more like it.  You think anyone has any sympathy for you, Visagie?  You blew up a ship full of colonists.  Families.  You’re what makes humanity look bad to the rest of the galaxy.  What I’m doing just proves the Alliance can muzzle its own dogs.  Assuming they ever let you see enough sunlight again for this to make it to the Council’s ears, which seems unlikely.”

Visagie switched tactics.  “We’re very well-funded.”

“I’m bored of talking to you.  I’m no assassin, but don’t believe for a moment I won’t shoot you if you fail to cooperate.  Let’s go.”  Shepard jerked her head towards the door.  She could hear her backup coming down the hall.

Visagie lowered her head, defeated.  Shepard didn’t buy it for a minute.  The woman shuffled around the desk, and then attempted to ram Shepard with her shoulder and make a break for it. 

Shepard was ready, and stepped back to avoid the attack while bringing the butt of her rifle down between the woman’s shoulder blades.  Visagie stumbled, half-sprawling, through the door.  There was a surprised shout, and then several shots in rapid succession.  The woman was gone before she hit the floor.

“Aw, hell.”  Shepard shouldered the rifle and stuck her head out into the hall.  “Somebody want to explain what in blazes just happened?”

The operative straightened, chagrined, and lowered his pistol.  Shepard recognized him as one of the upper-ranked trainees from ICT.  “She was coming straight at us, ma’am.”

“Her network is still active, Lieutenant.  We needed her intel.  She was ready to cut a deal with me, she would have talked.”  Shepard was frustrated enough to strangle the man herself.  “You couldn’t have restrained her?”

“She looked like she had a weapon.”  He stood rigid, not meeting her narrowed eyes.

“Right.”  The lieutenant flinched at her sarcasm.  Shepard stalked past him without a second glance and activated her comm.  “Ready for pick-up.  We need a clean-up crew.”

Later, back on the ship in an even fouler mood, she was called into the comm room for a transmission.  Captain Anderson’s face flickered into life.  Shepard had been expecting this call since Visagie died.  “Sir.”

“Shepard,” he greeted her, his tone relaxed.  “Do you have our package?”

“Only if you wanted it on ice.”

“Dammit.”  Anderson was more weary than angry.  “What went wrong?”

“Lieutenant Buchar got a little jumpy when our girl tried to break free, and he’s a regrettably good shot.”  Shepard scowled. 

“Buchar?  The new N6, first time tagging along on a big boy run?”

“That’s him.”  She shook her head.  “I know the mission rarely goes according to plan, but…”

“Permission to speak freely, Commander.  I’d like to know your thoughts.”

She looked up at the holo.  “Goddammit, sir, but I am tired of these kinds of screw-ups.  He was shaky from the moment we left the Mako, but the pussyfooting major back on the ship countermanded my order for him to stay back. Because what in the bloody hell does a marine on the ground know about running an op, right?”

“You’re frustrated by the limits of your authority.”

“Damn right I am,” she muttered.  Shepard cleared her throat, and added, more loudly, “Sir.”

“It’s about time.”

Her expression changed from frustration to puzzlement.  “Excuse me, sir?”

“I said, it’s about time.”  Anderson chuckled.  “Truth is, you’ve been ready for more for a while.  Which brings me to the point of this conversation- your new orders.  I’m uploading information on Project Dark Skies to your omni-tool now.”

She gave it a glance, but didn’t open the files.  There would be plenty of time to peruse them later- it was a long haul back to Arcturus. “Give me the rundown.”

“For several years now, I’ve headed an initiative charged with expanding Alliance hardware capabilities in new directions.  We’re living in an intragalactic world now.  There’s a lot of threats out there, ones we don’t completely understand, and a lot we can learn from our allies.  That search led to the ship you’re about to discover.” 

“A new ship?”  Her confusion deepened.  She activated her omni-tool. The familiar orange of its holographic display limned her forearm, and she thumbed an icon.  It projected a holo of a sleek craft unlike any she’d seen in the Alliance fleet.  “Sir, with all due respect, I specialize in small, targeted operations.  Long term service aboard a frigate-“

“This is a classified vessel whose mission should be right in line with your experience.  I’m recommending you for X.O.  I need somebody on my team who understands how spec ops should be done.”  He smiled broadly.  “Congratulations, Commander.”

She drew herself up.  “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t screw it up.”  Anderson reached forward to hit the switch.  “Anderson out.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Four days later, Nathaly Shepard waved her omni-tool at the taxi’s fare meter and stepped out into the cold midday sun of Mars.  It was December 2182, only a few days after Christmas, with half the neighborhood still decked out in strings of twinkling lights and occasional tacky lawn ornament.  Shepard walked up a drive that was downright plain in comparison, a token set of solar-powered electric candles lining the path.

The house looked like every other home on the tidy, narrow streets just off the naval base- a postage stamp of a rock garden yard, white-painted contoured sides of the pre-fab going tan under this season’s dust, Alliance flag hanging limply beside the door.  The only things that set it apart was the lack of children’s toys scattered in the yard, and the rusty toolbox in the drive next to the car.

She frowned at the tools a moment, then shook her head and proceeded up the walk.  A much-abused duffle bag banged against her thigh.

Shepard cut an imposing figure on the street.  Tall, especially for a woman, athletic, and dressed in jeans, combat boots, and a faded brown leather jacket that had formed itself to the shape of her body over the years.  A pistol rode easy on her hip and she moved with a lazy, competent confidence that betrayed her years of training.  Red hair fell with a soft curl past her shoulders and across tawny brown cheeks smattered with freckles. 

She rapped her knuckles against the hatch and shifted her weight, waiting.

Shuffling could be heard inside the house, followed by the sound of a lock being drawn, before the door slid aside.  The man who answered was nearing sixty, slightly shorter than Shepard, with a salt-and-pepper mustache and deep bronze skin only a few shades darker than her own.  He broke into a smile, exacerbating the small wrinkles at his eyes and mouth, though his tone was reproachful.  “Zey-Zey!  You could have called, you know.”

“Hi, dad.”  Shepard returned his embrace.  “You know what it’s like trying to make a ship-to-residence call.  Besides, I didn’t have a lot of warning.”

Paul Shepard made a tchting sound and stepped aside to let her in.  The interior of the house was comfortably run-down- faded carpets, sagging couch, paint cracking on kitchen chairs.  Photographs lined the walls.  Some were of family, Paul, his wife, and their daughter, taken on various bases and vacations all over the galaxy.  Others were from their glory days in the Alliance, old friends and comrades-in-arms, old ships.  Shepard had a whole wall to herself, the virtue and embarrassment of an only child.  They progressed from her first birthday to her promotion two years ago, Shepard standing awkwardly between her parents in her dress blues.

Above the table, however, portraits of her grandparents reigned over the kitchen, a sort of honorarium to those gone before.  Her maternal grandparents she never knew well, but the paternal set half-raised her in her earliest years while her parents juggled deployments against their familial duties. 

She licked her thumb and scrubbed a dot of dried spaghetti sauce off her grandmother, fixing that broad smile that lent a bit of light to the room even in photographic form.  Zelena Goya Shepard's outspoken temerity was as well known in their small town back on Earth as her secret mole sauce.  Shepard never managed to quite grasp the recipe, though sometime in her preteen years her father began nailing it with unfailing accuracy.  She suspected either black magic or a really juicy bit of family gossip paved the way. 

Paul searched the fridge for a couple of beers.  “So what brings you back to Hellas?  I doubt you want to spend your shore leave visiting your old man.”

Shepard was twenty-eight.  Old enough that shore leave no longer consisted of a few days of black-out drinking followed by a few days of throwing up, but she was still more inclined to spend the time unwinding than on family obligations.  “I have a mission, actually.”

“On Mars?”  He was surprised, and with good reason.  Shepard didn’t exactly do logistics or fleet support.

“It’s classified.”  She opened drawers, poking around for a bottle opener.  “They’ve been building some kind of new frigate.  I’m here to train for the shake-down, for the next three weeks.”

Since the earliest days of its existence, the greatest shipyards of the Alliance were found on Mars.  The plentiful resources, proximity to asteroid belt mining operations, and low gravity without the hazards of vacuum or zero-g made it ideal. 

“That’s not a usual assignment for a hot-shot N7 operative,” Paul observed.

She flushed.  Her father’s pride occasionally offended her modesty.  Shepard popped the cap off her beer and took a long draw.  “Yeah, well.  It’s Anderson’s baby.  He sort of went and made me X.O.”

His surprise showed.  Her mother was also an executive officer, albeit aboard a much larger ship, and it took half her career to get there.  “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” she replied, gracelessly.  She still wasn’t sure what to make of the posting.

Paul recovered somewhat, and patted his daughter’s cheek with patronizing affection, exaggerated for effect.  “It couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, dad.”  She set down the drink and shrugged off her jacket, laying it over a chair.  “I actually came to pick up my car.  Speaking of which…”

“Oh, that.”  He rolled his eyes.  “There was a noise in the engine.  You know how it is.”

She did know how it was, but she was still horrified.  “You have her up on blocks in your driveway.”

He waved a hand.  “It’s nothing.”

“Dad, I swear-“

“You asked me to keep her in good condition,” he said, indignant.  “I’m doing exactly that.  You’re not around to drive her.  She’s only a little younger than you.  She gets a little rattle from time to time, I check it out.”

Shepard tried not to lose her patience.  The 2160 Fire Starter was her pride and joy, bought with all her signing bonus plus all her savings from her high school job when she enlisted ten years ago.  Though a commercial model, it was a favorite of canyon racing leagues on Mars for its handling, superior aerodynamics, and cornering.  It also predated most standard safety features that left modern air cars dull in comparison, by Shepard’s estimation.  “It’s a classic, you have to be careful with it.”

He gave her a wry glance.  “Zey-Zey, sweetheart, I was fixing just about everything that can break on a ship years before you were born.  You ever try to piece together a Mako retrorocket from scrap metal?  I can get the crap out of your fussy little car without scratching the paint, don’t worry.”

“Can I at least pull out the blocks and let her sit on the stabilizers?”

“Well…”  He dithered, taking another gulp of his beer.

“Oh my god.”  Shepard made for the door.

Her father trailed after her.  “Zey-Zey, it’s not as bad as it looks.”

She popped open the hood and her eyes went wide.  “The hell have you done to my car?”

He put his arm around her shoulders.  “Look, just give me the afternoon.  You’ll never know the difference.  I promise.”

They spent the rest of the day happily bickering over the requirements to fix the car while polishing off the rest of the six pack as the evening chill crept in.  Back in the 40s when terraforming still seemed the way of the future, UNAS tented the whole of Hellas Basin and provided an orbital mirror to shed sunlight down onto the colony, but it never really got warm, especially at night.

Like all such projects always go, it got worse before it got better.  At one point half the engine was in pieces on the drive.  However, by the time the last of the light was fading from the planitia, Shepard was able to climb in, thumb the starter, and hear it roar to life.  It lifted onto all four stabilizers without sidling and held level. 

Shepard managed to conceal her sigh of relief from her father, who beamed with satisfaction from the yard.  He was good with machines- none better, in fact- but every so often his curiosity and sense of invention got the better of him.  She ran her hand over the dash, a soothing gesture, and checked the haptic interface.  All systems reported green.  The controls didn’t feel sluggish, either.  Call it a success.

Paul went in to start dinner while she took her around the block for a check-out.  What she wanted was to get her out on the planitia, without any roads or speed limits, where the engine could really open up, but some pleasures would have to wait for another time.  The training schedule should leave a few spare hours here and there.  Even if she had to trade sleep.

She polished a smudge off the cherry red paint with the hem of her grease-stained shirt and went inside.

The warm smell of toasting bread greeted her.  Her father was a better cook than anyone would expect, but most of the time he preferred easy to gourmet.  Shepard washed her hands, found plates and bowls, and set them out on the table.  Paul ladled out tomato soup and slid two grilled cheese sandwiches straight from the frying pan onto the plates. 

“Are you staying here, or up at the base?” her father asked, between bites.

“Probably the base.  Looks like they’re going to have us in training a good twelve to sixteen hours every day.  Most of the crew’s already been here six months, but they need to get the officers up to speed fast.  The design’s pretty radical by Alliance standards.”

“Good.  It’s about time they started thinking outside the box.”  Paul’s complaints about design inefficiencies in the fleet were legendary to those who knew him.  Shepard thought, dryly, that she could recite most of them by heart. 

Nevertheless, he seemed ready to launch into yet another accounting.  “I kept telling them, you gotta pay attention to the maneuverability-“

A spate of wet coughing interrupted Paul, shook his body and left him gasping for air.  Shepard handed him a paper towel to wipe his mouth.  He took it, gratefully, slipped a container of pills out of his pocket, and gulped down two.

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it,” she stated, quietly.  It wasn’t a question.

“The docs up at the VA told me I need to take it easy.  They want me to get some kind of fancy humidifier system for the house.  Say it’ll help with inflammation and breathing.”  He made a small sound of disgust.  “I told them, I’m fine.  It’s been like this for more than a dozen years now.  I’m used to it.”

When Shepard was a teenager, her father was assigned to a carrier ship that had a gasket go bad on the shuttle bay airlock.  A small crew inside was trying to fix the problem so they could get a limping bird through to the hanger when the cabin suddenly vented to space.  Luckily, they got help quickly and there were no fatalities, but the rapid decompression left her father with severe joint and lung issues.  He was honorably discharged on disability and ended up settling on Mars, in a naval community where he could feel at home.  She spent the latter part of her high school years here with him and, in a sense, it became home to her, too.  This tiny prefab was the closest thing she had to a permanent address.

“Maybe you should look into it.  If it makes you even a little more comfortable…”

“Screw that.”  He sat back and folded his arms.  “I don’t want a bunch of medical techs messing with my house.  That’s how it starts.  Next thing you know, they’ll have a fancy hospital bed installed and some kind of nurse coming around to count my shits.”

“How much does it cost?” Shepard asked, rather more shrewdly than her father would have liked.

“Zey-Zey-“

“I’m not a little girl, dad.  If I can help, I want to.”

“Nathaly Zelena.”  He reached across the table and covered her hand with his.  “It’s fine.  Really.  You have your own life, I don’t want or need you worrying about mine.”

She sighed, but let the subject drop, making a mental note to look into the system when she had a chance.

/\/\/\/\/\

Sunrise was still a dream of the future when Shepard set off for the base.  At this hour, even the few cops on patrol were too sleepy to care, and she managed to top 150 kph before the bends in the road started feeling too hard to trust. 

She loved old sci-fi classics as a kid.  There was something delightfully quaint in reading how people over two hundred years ago thought living in space would be, especially when she happened to be reading it from the comforts of a station observation deck, or tearing across the surface of a foreign planet.  Now, driving in silence past red plains in the frigid Martian pre-dawn, stars still pricked out in silver thread against the sky, she recalled Bradbury’s description of a similar ride.  Something about time in the air- the smell, the sound, the tactile nature of years.  The way sometimes in a place so ancient and still you could feel the arc of eons stretching along your body, blurring century upon century until time became acutely perceivable as just another dimension.

People could laugh about canals and alien cities, but to Shepard’s thinking, Bradbury understood Mars on a level few of his more realistic colleagues ever reached.

The ruins of the Protheans brooded hundreds of klicks south of here, inside the quarantine zone that protected them from development and access by non-approved personnel.  Shepard often wondered what Mars looked like to them.  Did they erect the same towering crystal spires envisioned by so much fiction, laid to waste in the intervening fifty thousand years?  Or did they just carve out underground bunkers and watch humanity through interplanetary binoculars, waiting for… something?  There had to be a reason for their interest.  Or perhaps their resources were so vast that this was a tiny outpost manned by a few crackpot scientists who found the lumbering cavemen a particular fascination.  She wasn’t sure whether that notion was more funny or sad.

It didn’t matter much.  The discovery of the Prothean cache here thirty-five years ago, with its wealth of element zero technology, radically altered the course of human civilization, whether by accident or ancient design.  With the further unearthing of the mass effect relay frozen solid in Charon’s ice, at the edge of the solar system, the galaxy had opened before them.  It was Pandora’s Box gone viral- and just as uncontrollable, and irreversible.

Her car pulled up to the gate to the base, and Shepard submitted to the requisite scan with a trace of regret.  Moments to herself, unrestrained and free, floating in the space between one obligation and the next, were rare.  That was the whole reason for the car.  Sometimes she needed to be alone with herself and the speed and think.

The guard threw her a salute.  “You’re free to proceed, ma’am.  Lot B if you don’t mind.”

She returned the salute and found a parking space.

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon as she walked through the doors.  Anderson was waiting to collect her.  “There you are, Shepard.”

She glanced at the holo on the wall displaying the time.  “I didn’t think I was late.”

“No, though I suppose I should have expected you to stay off-base.”  Anderson was an old friend of her mother’s in addition to being something of a mentor to Shepard.

She kept pace as he led her through the warrens of the base.  “Don’t worry.  I’m moving in today.”

“Good.”  He glanced over her with something like resignation.  “I guess it was too much to hope you might pull out your service uniform instead of utilities.”

“Sorry, sir, but I thought we were going to do some real work today, not just show off.”

Anderson stopped and favored her with a glare.  “I know you’re used to commanding small squads in the field, but this is the big leagues.  I’ve assured my superiors that you’re ready for it.  You’re a helluva marine and smarter than your own good, but you need to learn a little diplomacy and above all you need to see to that mouth of yours, if you want to play on this level.  Don’t let me down.”

She pulled herself to attention, a touch stiffly.  “My apologies, sir.  It won’t happen again.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”  He opened a door off the hallway and held it for her with old-fashioned courtesy, despite their disparate rank.  “We’ll be meeting with the other officers first for a briefing.  Then we’ll move on to the training sim and you can meet the rest of the crew.”

The tiny conference room held a table and eight chairs, coffee maker, and an image of the _SSV Normandy SR-1_ primed on the holo display on the far wall.  The people scattered around the table immediately stood as Shepard and Anderson entered.

“At ease,” Anderson said, comfortably.  Shepard knew he’d handpicked most of the crew.  The _Normandy_ was a pet project, one he shepherded from funding to design all the way to this, its maiden voyage, fighting politics with one hand and budget with the other.   Its success would be a make-or-break moment in an already distinguished career. 

He gestured towards her.  “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Lieutenant Commander Nathaly Shepard, who will be joining us as my executive officer.  Most of you are familiar with her record.  Unfortunately, she was unable to join us earlier due to a classified commitment in the Traverse.  I wish we had another five of her, but she’s here now.”

_Classified commitment in the Traverse_ was apparently the new Alliance slang for their quasi-legal ventures into the Terminus, but she kept her amusement to herself.  Anderson was going around the room.  “May I introduce Navigator Charles Pressly, our guide for the duration… our chief medical officer Dr. Karin Chakwas, Chief Engineer Greg Adams, an expert on the Tantalus drive core…”

Shepard exchanged nods as Anderson continued down the line.  “Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, who will command our marine detail, and last but not least our chief helmsman, Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau.”

“I read through your dossiers on the inbound flight to Mars,” she said, folding her hands behind her back and looking at them directly.  “It’s an impressive group.  I look forward to working with you all.”

“Let’s get down to brass tacks,” Adams said, cueing up the display.  “The _Normandy’s_ not like any other ship in the fleet.”

Shepard took a seat and accepted a cup of coffee passed her way by Chakwas.  “I noticed that.  It looked almost turian in the run-down I got.”

Adams nodded, pleased. “As you know, it was a joint venture, and it shows.  But she’s got plenty of human in her too.  Let’s start with the stealth system, since that’s certainly her flashiest feature…”

Shepard had the knack of multitasking.  It was a necessity in her line of work.  So while part of her brain focused on Adams’ lecture, another looked around the table, matching faces to the dossiers and updating her initial assessments. 

Chakwas, seated across from her, did a credible job of appearing attentive, though there was little to interest her in the arcana of ship design.  She was easily the most experienced member of the crew outside of Anderson himself.  At her age, most doctors, even in the military, opted to settle down in hospitals or private practice, and she wondered if Chakwas was here by preference or as a favor to the captain.

To her left was Pressly, another older man, who immediately screamed “stuffy old guard” to her military sensibilities, with his balding hair and carefully clipped beard.  He was the kind of person she could have impressed by showing up in a higher grade of uniform, with shined shoes and medals on display.  Maybe that was what Anderson was trying to tell her in the hall- from this point forward there would be more officers like Pressly than like herself.  The whole thing was a game, and Anderson wanted her to learn how to play.  Why, she wasn’t exactly sure yet.

Adams was still talking, gesturing from time to time at the cut-away drawings and vids he threw up on the display.  His hands seemed to make up half his conversation.  He was another experienced officer, having served on as many kinds of ships as the Alliance had to offer, and reputably knew them each inside and out.  His enthusiasm for his work was obvious.  Nobody could ask for a better man to manage an experimental drive system.  In the late phases of the Tantalus’ drafting, he worked with the design team directly, human and turian alike.  If the _Normandy_ was Anderson’s baby, Adams was her midwife.

Past him, near the front of the table on her side, sat Lieutenant Alenko.  Alenko, Moreau, and herself represented the younger half of the _Normandy’s_ leadership.  Of all the dossiers, his record stood out as the strangest.  Alenko joined the Alliance later than most, with a technical education that should have routed him to a support role or even design work, but instead he chose a combat division and apparently done well for himself there.  He was better looking than his official service portrait- almost too much so for the marines.  It was hard to imagine him down in the dirt in the middle of a firefight.  He was also a biotic, which would have been odd enough on its own, with a record of serious and dedicated service, and indeed, he was taking in Adams’ lecture now with a small frown of concentration.

Contrast that with the pilot, seated next to her, who was doodling a pornographic cartoon on his datapad.  He caught her glance and waggled his bushy eyebrows.  Shepard had to bite her lip to avoid laughing. 

“Joker,” Anderson snapped, interrupting Adams.  “Care to illuminate us on how you plan to get around the FTL flaw in the stealth system?”

Moreau, apparently better known as Joker, fumbled after a response.  Shepard turned her full attention back to the meeting.  There would be enough time to evaluate the crew later.


	2. Course Corrections

“Congratulations, Jenkins, you’re dead.”  Shepard rubbed her hand against her helmet and avoided the urge to lay into the corporal.  But holy hell, was it that difficult to check the freaking hardsuit seals before cycling an air lock?  The little crap was killing them, and this Mako was too damn small to hold her temper.

Jenkins swallowed.  “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Sorry won’t save your ass if you do that on a real planetfall.”  She glanced back at Alenko, who simply shook his head, looking as frustrated as she felt.  “Privates Crosby and Chase were able to get this on the first go.  This is what, our seventh attempt?”

Jenkins stared at the simulator wall.

Alenko leaned forward.  “Hey, Jenkins.  Look at me.  There’s no reason to freak out just because you’ve got the X.O. sitting next to you.  We’ve done this sim a hundred times.  You just have to go slow and easy, remember your training, check over everything.”

He pulled himself together a bit, straightening in his couch.  “Yes, sir.”

Shepard activated her comm.  “Set it up again.”

“Aye aye, Commander.”  Joker’s cheerful voice filled the Mako.  Nothing ever seemed to try his patience. 

As they waited for the sim to reset, feeling a bit of a heel, she glanced over at the corporal.  “Hey.   Look, you trained with the rest of your squad.  If they can do it, so can you.”  She relaxed into the couch and shut her eyes.  “And don’t ask Anderson about the first time I had to practice an emergency shuttle evac.  Or the second.”

“I don’t know, sounds like a pretty good story.”  Alenko, catching on to what she was trying to do, fed right into her plan.

Shepard sighed with only a touch of dramatic exaggeration.  “I couldn’t find the pull for my chute.  The wind tore it out of my hand a half second after the jump, and no matter how I flailed I couldn’t get a grip on it.  Without my jump partner, I would have been a crater in the ground.”

“And I bet they called you crater for the next few months, too.”

“Meatsplat, actually.”  She made a face.  “Second Lieutenant Meatsplat.”

“No way,” Jenkins said, a categorical denial.  “I mean, you’re Shepard.”

She held up the first three fingers of her hand in a gesture of fidelity.  “We all start somewhere, Corporal.”

Joker’s voice crackled over the comm again.  “We’re ready whenever you are, Commander.”

Shepard hid her grinding teeth behind a forced smile.  “Let’s go.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Later, in the mess, Joker stopped her a moment.  “That was a nice thing you did for the kid.”

She shrugged and held out her tray for a ladle of peas.  “He needed some encouragement.  It wasn’t the kind of situation where riding his ass was going to make anything better.”

“Heh.  Sounded like you were about to explode for a minute there.”

“For a minute there, I was.”  She shook her head.  “Usually, the people I work with already know what the hell they’re about.  ICT weeds out the slow remarkably fast.  And usually, I’m not trapped in sims for days at a time.  My temper’s running a bit short.”

“Yeah, I think we all got that,” Joker replied, a little too quickly, and it made her wonder exactly how short her fuse had gotten over the last week and a half.  The _Normandy_ was set to launch in five days.  Their quarters were about to get a lot more confined and their mission a lot more immediate. 

Maybe she needed to ease off the gas a bit.  “Hey, Joker?  Thanks.”

“Don’t go getting all sentimental on me.”  He flashed her the kind of impertinent smile that was his trademark, just this side of insubordinate without ever sticking so much as a hair over the line.  “We might start thinking spec ops marines are, like, human or something.”

“We wouldn’t want that.  It might overload my AI circuitry.”  She smirked.  “I hear the last guy’s mech brain exploded all over the deck.  Eezo everywhere.”

His grin widened.  “You know what?  You’re alright.”

They carried their trays to an open table and started to eat.  Shepard jerked her chin towards him.  “What’s up with the leg braces?  You crash a ship or something?”

He stared at her a moment, blinking, as if what she said crossed even his lax boundaries.  “Very funny.”

“I’m sorry?”  She was lost.

“Mocking my disease while insulting my abilities as a pilot.”  He sat back and crossed his arms.  “Gotta say, that’s a new personal low.”

“Disease?  Is it catching?”

“What?”  It was his turn to be confused.  “Aw, hell.  You have no earthly idea what I’m talking about, do you?  I thought you read our dossiers.”

“I did.”  She sat back as well, sipping at her glass of water.  “Believe it or not, private medical records are not included, ‘cause I don’t need to know how many STDs you’ve caught during shore leave.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her, a wouldn’t-you-like-to-know gesture, but then sighed.  “Figures I’d go and open my big mouth.  Fine.  Here’s the rundown- I have Vrolik’s syndrome, also known as brittle bone disease.”  Joker made air quotes with an expression of disdain.  “Congenital.  My leg bones never developed properly.  They’re basically hollow, and break real easy if I’m not careful.”

“That sounds like something gene mods would fix.”

“Maybe.  The cause isn’t known.  But even if it’s genetic, it’s really rare.  There’s no funding in curing illnesses that only affect a few thousand births a year.  Even if they developed a cure now, I’m probably too old to correct anything this systemic with gene therapy, anyway.”

Shepard quirked a brow.  “How the hell did you enlist with something like that hanging over you?”

“Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”  He smiled grimly.  “Look, Commander, I’m the best damn pilot in this fleet.  Top of my class in flight school?  All those commendations in my file?  I earned that.  The Alliance isn’t a charity.”

“I never said-“

Joker leaned forward and banged his fist on the table.  The silverware clattered.  “I can do my job just as well as anyone else on the crew.  Put the _Normandy_ in my hands, and I’ll have her dancing.  I don’t need you worrying about me.”

She held up her hands in surrender.  “Never fear, Joker.  I’ll be sure to ride your ass just as hard as everyone else.”

“Damn right you will,” he answered smugly.

“In fact, now that you’ve made it so clear you’re up for a challenge, I might have to think up something special for you.”  She rubbed her chin thoughtfully.  “Maybe the next time we’re practicing maneuvers, I’ll ask the sim team to break both of the starboard engines.”

Joker scoffed and returned his attention to his dinner.  “Bring it.  The _Normandy’s_ a beautiful ship.  She and I can take whatever you dish out.” 

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard didn’t tire easily, but her head was swimming as she headed outside for a quick run before bed.  Her memory was damn near photographic, a useful skill for someone who had to get up to speed on deadly situations in no time flat- most of her spec ops missions came up with little to no warning.  But Adams wasn’t kidding when he said the _Normandy_ was different.  Wrapping her head around whole new theories of operations was a challenge, and her new role wasn’t coming quite as naturally as she hoped. 

The cool stillness of twilight was welcome after the chaos of the day.  Physical exertion was a routine part of her life, and her muscles felt downright cramped after spending all day cooped up in a Mako mock-up, getting a feel for the crew and reviewing procedures.  She plopped down on the sidewalk and started stretching out.

Footsteps thudded over the pavement, and Alenko rounded the corner of the building, slowing to a halt and checking the diagnostics on his omni-tool.  He failed to see her in the shadow of the entrance. 

“Hey,” she said, to catch his attention.

He jumped a bit, but recovered quickly.  “Commander.” 

“I see we had the same idea.”  There was a note of approval in her voice.  If he was supposed to be directing their marines, he damn well better be able to keep up with her.

“Seems like it.  I’m just about done, though.”  He gestured at a spot next to her.  “You mind?”

At a shake of her head, and he sat down and started going through cool-down stretches.  She found herself in a mood to talk. “You always go for a run at night?”

Alenko shrugged.  His dark hair hung limply over his forehead, slowly drying now that he was sitting in the light breeze.  “I mix it up a bit.  Some days the gym, some days a run.  It gets boring otherwise.  You?”

“Having a place to run is a luxury.  The Alliance isn’t big on providing track space on their ships.”   It was sad, but she studied Adams’ _Normandy_ schematics with half a mind on calculating the best routes for a morning jog.  The stairs between the CIC and the mess were promising. 

He chuckled his agreement.  “I read your service record- the unclassified portions of it, anyway.  It didn’t look like you spend much time planetside.”

“I could say the same thing about you.  Looked like you’ve been a little bit of everywhere.”  She drew her feet together and leaned forward into a butterfly position.  “Seems to be working for you, though. That defense initiative on Keargef couldn’t have been easy.”

“It helps to work with good people.  The C.O. on that run really knew his stuff,” he replied, modestly.  “I hope I’ve done some good work, but none of it’s anything like, say, Akuze.”

She blew out a breath.  “Akuze was dumb luck.”

“I doubt that.  Maybe a little luck, sure, but not entirely.”  A grin, quick and bemused.  “Anyway, I wouldn’t bring it up to the marines.  I thought Jenkins was going to shit himself when he realized you were the same Shepard.  It’s a morale booster for them, serving with you.  At least, when you’re not reaming them over incidental mistakes.”

“Critiquing my command, Lieutenant?”  She raised an eyebrow, but her tone was light, unoffended.  He’d said it almost more as a joke than anything else.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am,” he deadpanned back.

Shepard wiped a stray lock of hair out of her eyes and leaned forward to grip her ankles.  “Joker already dropped some hints about that.  Every posting is a little different.”

“You recovered well.”  Alenko shrugged.  “And let’s face it, getting spaced by your own suit kind of deserves a kick in the pants.”

 “You’ve been working with them a long time?”  Her curiosity was obvious.  It was a strange feeling, being dropped into the middle of an established crew, but Anderson made it clear that if she wanted to be involved in serious command, she better get used to it.  Nobody climbing the ladder stayed in one posting for long.

“We started training together six months ago, and only found out it was for the _Normandy_ run four months back.  I’m not sure why they have us running so many ground maneuvers, but I guess they’ll tell us when we need to know.”

There was a question on the end of that statement, but Shepard didn’t have any better idea than him.  Not that she’d tell him if she did.  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

The wry expression she got in return confirmed his understanding.  “As you say, Commander.”

She twisted her back, turning away from him to stretch it fully.  “Speaking of service records, I’m curious.  Most soldiers who’ve been through college enlisted to pay for it, but you didn’t sign up until after you were already graduated and saddled with loans.”

“I had a private scholarship.  No loans.  Thank god on this pay, right?”  He copied her movement.  “I guess I just thought through my enlistment more than most people.”

“Private scholarship, electronic engineering major… you must be about as bright as Adams.”  She glanced at him over her shoulder.  “I’m surprised the Alliance engineering corps was willing to let you go.”

“I didn’t give them much choice.”  Alenko shook his head.  “Look, I know what you’re asking, everyone does.  I love tech, intellectually, but it just wasn’t satisfying.  I wanted to be somewhere the Alliance was making a real difference.  And the scholarship didn’t have anything to do with being smart.  I don’t particularly want to talk about it.”

She regarded him for a moment, and shrugged.  “Suit yourself.”

“I better get going.”  He stood.  “Watch out on the south end of the base.  Nothing but gravel down there, and it’s going to be hard to see in this light.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Ma’am.”  He nodded and headed back inside. 

She watched him go, mystified.  The hell was that?  They were exchanging small talk, and then he completely shut down over an innocuous question.

Shepard got to her feet, setting off at a jog.  No skin off her nose- she had enough to worry about.

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard got her chance to demonstrate a little camaraderie the following day, in the armory.  Target practice, like exercise, was something she had to pencil in on Mars.  She favored an assault rifle for its rapid fire capabilities, and the fact that her skill allowed her to easily switch between precision shots for single targets and spray for multiples.  It was true that the rate of fire required a delicate approach to the heat sink, but she was so accustomed to that problem that accommodating it was second nature.

Alenko wasn’t wrong about the crew.  A number of them, particularly the least senior and youngest members, definitely suffered from a spate of hero worship.  It was a notoriety she could live without, being remembered as a heroine for the least successful mission of her career and one of the worst personal experiences of her life.  And she happened to arrive at the range just as the young marines began their own practice.  Some of them couldn’t resist trying to show off, before she even had a chance to select a weapon.

Some of them, in fact, got far too big for their britches.  One young woman, in an attempt to prove her knowledge of firearms, declared loudly, “I don’t spend any time on target practice with a rifle.  Rifles are best for containment situations.”

Their supervising officer opened his mouth to respond, but Shepard cut in first, hiding her amusement.  “Why do you say that?”

“Because they aim like shit, ma’am.”  She drew herself to attention, clearly convinced of her answer.  Her uniform’s stitched-on name badge read CHASE. “I’d rather have more practice with weapons that place an emphasis on skill.”

“Aren’t you arguing that an assault rifle, in fact, would take more skill to use properly?”

Chase rolled her eyes.  “C’mon, Commander, everyone knows a pistol is more accurate.  It’d never compare in a straight-up contest.”

Shepard knew she was right, by the book, but seized on the opportunity with swagger and a cocky smile.  She removed a gun from the rack and checked the action.  “Corporal, I am a fucking surgeon with this assault rifle.”  She paused.  “You want to put your dignity where your mouth is?”

“What do you mean?”  The girl seemed less certain of herself now.  Her eyes strayed to the range.

“Straight up, best of five targets.  I’ll put my rifle up against whatever you care to fire.  First mess after the _Normandy’s_ airborne, loser’s a little teacup.  What do you say?”

The private hesitated, but it was too late.  Her friends were already cheering.  She did the only thing she could- sighted her pistol down the range, and grinned.  “You’re on.”

Half the crew went up against her that day, as word of the contest spread, before they wised up.  Her first meal aboard ship would be serenaded by quite the chorus.  Even some of the more seasoned crew showed up just to watch.  Chakwas and Pressly started placing bets to each other, not on who would win, but on how badly each enlistee would lose.

Alenko leaned against the far wall, arms folded, shaking his head as she sank shot after precise shot.  He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  His admiration must have been obvious, because Joker caught him staring, nudged him in the ribs, and asked, with smarmy mockery, “See something you like?”

“She’s REALLY good.”

“She’s N7.  I don’t think they give out that commendation for good behavior.”  He cocked his head.  “Kinda the opposite, actually.”

Eventually, the entertainment value waned, and the audience drifted off to resume their duties, though from the sound of it the servicemen were going to repeat the story until the whole base knew.  But Shepard was smiling as she reset the range.  She’d forgotten how much fun it could be to let loose every once in a while.  And it felt nice to use her talents for something completely innocent.  For once, just enjoy being good at it without having to weigh the consequences or the body count.

“Pretty impressive performance,” Joker said.  “Those kids never saw it coming.”

“There’s no real losing in that kind of competition.”  Shepard shrugged.  “I’m their superior officer, at the pinnacle of my career track- I’m supposed to win.  But coming close gives them some status points worth fighting for.”

“I don’t know.  They were pretty earnest,” Alenko said.  “They should have guessed you’d never make a bet like that if you weren’t sure of winning.”

“Chance is a bitch.  Even I get screwed sometimes.”  She leveled them with a taunting grin.  “I notice neither of you stepped up to the line.”

Joker scoffed.  “Like I remember how to fire one of those things.  If I find myself in the middle of a firefight, it’s already FUBAR’d beyond what anyone can fix.  The only gun I need is the one mounted under the _Normandy_.”

“Fair enough.”  She eyed Alenko.  “What’s your excuse?”

“No excuse.  Just didn’t want to steal any fun from the servicemen.”

“Sure,” Joker said, elbowing Shepard.  “I bet you just didn’t want to screw up in front of the X.O.”

Shepard winked at him slyly.  “It’s alright.  The L.T. probably just isn’t the competitive type.”

Alenko snorted at her, but before she could take the trash talk up a notch, he seized a pistol, sighted, and put five shots clean through the forehead of the remaining active target.

They regarded the work.  Joker muttered.  “Show-off.”

Shepard laughed.  “Alright- you, I might need a pistol to beat.  Or at least a better rifle than this.”

He hit the reset for the target, smiling a little, but kept any response to himself.

Shepard shook her head, bemused.  “I think that’s enough absurdity for one day.  I’ll see you both at tonight’s debrief.”

After she sauntered out of the room, Joker peered at Alenko.  “Are you blushing, L.T.?”

“You need your eyes checked, Joker.”

/\/\/\/\/\

It was nearing 2200 hours when Shepard made her way to Anderson’s office, stretching and yawning.  “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Shepard.  Good.”  He pointed at a chair in front of his desk.  “You seem to be settling into your new role.”

“Trying, sir.”  She fell into the chair, posture relaxed, and stifled another yawn. 

“Higher command not coming as easy as you thought?” Anderson asked, with a hint of dry amusement.

She snorted, acknowledgment and concession both.  He chuckled.  “I heard about your little show today.  I’d say your well on your way to winning hearts and minds.”

“But…?”  She’d known him far too long to not hear the hesitation at the end of the statement.

He sat back, giving her the full weight of his attention.  “It’s good to be well-liked by your men.  They’ll follow your commands readily, with less hesitation, less… interpretation.  But there’s a fine line.  Cross it, and you’re no longer their X.O., but their peer, and they’ll never listen to you again.  You need to keep yourself above the business of your crew.”

Shepard could see the wisdom of it, but it didn’t sit altogether right with her.  She wanted to be someone her crew could rely upon.  She couldn’t do that if they weren’t comfortable being themselves around her.  “I hear what you’re saying, sir.  I’d gotten some feedback indicating I needed to loosen up a bit.  It was a small course correction.”

“Fine.  Just don’t overthink it.”  He shuffled through a folder on the desk.  “Speaking of which, it’s natural that you’d get along with the younger officers, but you shouldn’t neglect forging good working relationships with the rest.  Pressly’s third in command of this ship.  If something happens to you or me he inherits your job.  I know he can come off as stuck-up, but you need to be able to work with him. Fluidly.  As X.O., you’re also in charge of a lot of the day-to-day, so Adams needs confidence that if he comes to you with a problem with the ship, you’ll both understand it and address it promptly.  Otherwise chain of command breaks down and we have anarchy on our hands.”

“Yes, sir.  I’ll make more of an effort to seek out the other officers.”

“Excellent.”  He relaxed, and looked up at her with more of a smile.  “All in all, you’re doing well, better than I expected.  It’s a whole different world.  Just keep it up.  And get some sleep.”

She smiled back, and stood.  “That’s an order I can get behind.  Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Shepard.”


	3. The Normandy Launch

The night was clear and cold.  Commander Shepard took a deep lungful of the crisp air as she stepped outside the base.  It was the wrong season for dust storms, and easy to forget the thin barrier far overhead separating earth and sky, rendering Hellas Basin habitable.  For all the dreaming of an earlier age, it turned out that it was easier to find warm, oxygen-laden planets in distant systems than transform lifeless worlds closer to home.

She shivered a bit despite the light leather jacket over her uniform.  Three weeks of training lasted longer than most of her missions, and was almost relaxing despite the schedule- if she could stop fixating on why a shakedown run of new hardware should possibly require so much practice.  Anderson seemed determined that the crew’s performance be flawless.  Maybe it was just showing off.  The sleek and nimble ship they’d be putting through her paces was something else, after all.  They were slated to board the _Normandy_ tomorrow, complete the final check-out, and depart Sol the day after.

Personnel Lot B wasn’t far.  Shepard dug through her pocket for her keys.

“Little late to be going somewhere.”

She glanced over her shoulder, tensing reflexively, but it was only Lieutenant Alenko.  Shepard shrugged.  “Can’t sleep.  Never can before a mission.  Thought I’d go for a drive, clear my head.”

“See, I’d have thought you’d be able to sleep through the Skyllian Blitz.”  His tone was teasing.

Shepard chuckled.  “Through it, sure, but not before.”  She paused.  “We missed you in the mess.”

Being on the same training schedule put them on the same dinner schedule as well.  “Yeah, I had a headache.  Decided to lie down for a while instead.   The cold and quiet feels good.”

“It’s just as well.  Fried rice night.”  She made a face.

“I think you mean ‘let’s throw all the kitchen scraps into a wok’ night.”

“Hah.”  She stuck her hands in her pockets and studied the stars for a long moment, debating, and blew out a breath. “Well, since you’re already out here, want to come?  I was going to head out over some of the old floodplains.  You can get up to a respectable speed out there.”

“Sure, why not?”  He shrugged.  “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

They walked over to the lot.  Alenko let out a low whistle as she sprung the lock and swung the door up.  “This is your ride?”

“Yep.”  Shepard ran her hand over the top affectionately.  “2160 Firestarter, one of the last produced before inertial dampeners got shoved into every vehicle in the galaxy.  She’ll still let you feel the ride, and she’s got the oomph to make it worthwhile.”

“Anderson must like you more than he lets on.  It’s a hell of a courtesy car.”

“Nope,” she corrected.  “She’s all mine.  My dad keeps her for me when I’m off-planet, which is sadly most of the time.”

His surprise showed.  “How’d you ever afford this on a marine’s pay?”

“Fiscal discipline and black magic.”  She smiled fiercely.  “You getting in, or what?”

Alenko slid into the passenger’s seat, and took a cue from her to secure his seatbelt.  These days most of the cars on the market didn’t even need them.  She put her thumb to the indentation on the dash.  The Firestarter rewarded her with a warm purr of its engine, and it rose into the air.  She’d never tell her dad for fear of encouraging more experiments, but the car was running better than ever.

They lifted out of the space, and shortly thereafter swung off the highway and let loose on the basin plain.

She wasn’t kidding when she talked about feeling the ride.  Alenko muffled a curse as the rocks in the foreground blurred against the crater rim horizon.  They approached the Firestarter’s maximum speed.  It was as close to flying as anyone ever got on land.  The holographic display took all her attention as she whipped the car around boulders and over dip of an ancient rivulet, while Alenko clung to his seat and tried to roll with the car’s motions.

There was no real reason for it.  The car’s maximum altitude was more than enough to clear the obstacles.  But Shepard reveled in it.

“You’re crazy!” he shouted over the engine din and screaming air.

She just laughed.  “You saw the car.  What were you expecting?”

He shook his head, but gradually relaxed as it became clear Shepard had no intention of steering them to an untimely end.  By the time they drew near the wall and she started to slow, he was taking the hellish ride in stride.

Mudflats stretched out for miles all around them.  Millions of years past, in this spot, huge geysers of seasonal permafrost melt ripped through the crater’s rim, pouring billions of gallons of muddy water onto the plain.  Now, it was more arid than the worst desert Earth had to offer.  Shepard wondered, again, what had attracted the Protheans to this dismal rock, which was dry and dead even fifty thousand years past when they walked its dusty land.

Alenko took in the scenery as she gently set down.  “You know, I’ve visited the base a few times before being assigned to the _Normandy_ , but I don’t think I’ve ever made it out here to the planitia.”

“Not many do.”  Shepard killed the engine.  “Kind of why I like it.  It’s quiet, undisturbed.  A person can get some real thinking done.”

They meandered towards the wall until they found a large flat boulder, and sat together in silence for some time, at turns admiring the stars and the landscape, a light breeze tugging at their clothes and hair.

Alenko spoke first.  “You find yourself in need of a nice deep think every once in a while?”

“Don’t you?”  She brushed back a few locks of red hair the wind had pulled loose of her bun, away from her eyes and mouth, and searched her pockets for a cigarette.  “It’s what distinguishes us from rocks.  From each other too, I suppose.”

“I guess someone in your line of work would have a lot to think about.”  He watched her as she lit up, and shook his head when she held the pack out to him.  “You don’t strike me as a smoker.”

“It’s relaxing.”  Shepard blew a stream of smoke into the night.  “I’m picky.  Additive-free.  Doesn’t screw with me as much as the other stuff.”

“Can’t taste much better.”

“Sometimes I think I like the act more than the things themselves- the ritual of it.”  Her mouth quirked.  “You see, you do strike me as the type.”

“Desperate to watch my lungs regrow?”

“Fussy.”  The expression became a full-blown grin.  “Given to rituals of self-control.”

“And you strike me as the sort of person who came to self-control the hard way.”

“This isn’t a career with a lot of forgiveness for lapses in self-possession.”  She found it was easy to talk to him.  Comfortable.  “I’ve been with spec ops for almost ten years now.  I could tell you a lot of stories.”

“The way you drive, I’m surprised you didn’t sign up for flight school.  If you have the chops for N7 you could’ve written your own ticket anywhere.”

“I love to drive,” she confessed.  “I love the speed.  I love how demanding it is, how it takes up your entire concentration, the threshold of skill required and the danger hanging on every turn.  But flying, even combat flying... I don’t know.  I wanted to be on the ground, learn how to shoot, fight for real people and not just execute strategic plays for military assets.”

“You like getting your hands dirty.”

“Exactly.”

“I guess I can understand that.”  It was his turn to pause.  “It took me longer to come around to that point of view, but the Alliance has good intentions.  I like to think we make some kind of positive difference.”

She took another drag, careless.  “And it has to be one of the few places you can really use your skills.”

Alenko knew immediately she wasn’t talking about his aim.  “I don’t like relying on the biotics.”

She eyed him a long moment, evaluating.  It struck her strange that someone with that kind of talent wouldn’t want to use it as effectively as possible.  “You’d know better than me about that stuff.  I just know how to shoot a gun.”

“You’re not entirely wrong,” he admitted after a moment, then shook his head.  “Biotics may be unrestricted, but we sure don’t go undocumented.  Might as well get a paycheck for it.”

“Someday you’ll have to tell me about that.”

“Someday, sure.”

Polite way of saying fuck off.  Shepard could take a hint.  She turned her attention back to the sky.

He switched topics.  “So, you’re from Mars, then?”

Shepard shrugged.  “I’m not really from anywhere.  My dad moved here when I was in high school and I moved with him.  We lived a little bit of everywhere before that.”

“That must’ve been hard.  Leaving just as soon as you got settled.”

“Sometimes it was.”  She shook her head.  “But I always kind of liked it, you know?  Some people spend their whole life trying to get off Earth and I’d seen half the galaxy before I was ten.”

Alenko leaned back on his palms.  “That’s sort of why I joined up.  Spent most of my childhood on a station.  I wanted to see what was out there.”

She nodded.  “Speaking of which- think we’re all set for tomorrow?”

Another shrug.  “You tell me, ma’am.  But yeah, I think so.  It’s a simple hardware shakedown.  What could go wrong?”

/\/\/\/\/\

The ship looked bigger in person than any sim or diagram made it appear.

Shepard hiked her duffle bag a bit higher on her shoulder.  The ship was so new she could almost see her reflection in the paint.  Never broken atmo.  Never seen a fight, and buried in its walls were the heat sinks and plumbing that would do their damnedest to keep it that way.  And in its belly, an eezo core to rival any in the galaxy.

The _Normandy_.  Anderson’s ship, but in no small way, her ship, too.

She tugged at the collar of her starched dress blues- captain’s direct orders, for the christening later- tore her eyes from the vessel, and made her way up the ramp and through the hatch.  Joker was already ensconced at the controls, muttering to himself with cheerful sarcasm as he ran down his pre-flight checklist.  They exchanged a nod and a wave before Shepard headed for the stairs.  It was a simple matter to find her footlocker and toss her gear inside.  A frigate wasn’t a large ship.  The captain had his own private quarters, but everyone else got a hot bunk.  At least these were the new models, entirely self-contained and self-cleaning.  There was nothing like laying down in someone else’s clammy sweat to make her regret enlisting.

Anderson himself was standing in place of pride at the galaxy map in the CIC.  It was surprising how quickly everyone adapted to this uniquely turian aspect of the ship’s design.  A grudging part of her had to admit it might just make more sense than having the skipper standing on the bridge.  Information was far more valuable to the C.O. than the ability to look out the window.

He set aside his datapad.  “Ah, Commander.  There you are.”

Shepard folded her arms behind her back.  “Sir.  All systems report green.  Everything appears on schedule.”

“Indeed.”  His smile held a touch of foreboding, as if he didn’t trust the smoothness of their impending departure.  “Tell Adams to climb out and kick the tires, would you?”

She laughed at the archaic joke.  “I don’t think that will be necessary, sir.”

“You’re probably-“  Anderson was cut off by the comm.

“Captain, there’s a message from Guardhouse Alpha.  They say your guest has arrived.”

Joker sounded as confused as she felt, but Anderson merely nodded.  “Tell them I’ll be right over to see to the authorization.”

As he made to leave, Shepard moved slightly to her left, blocking his path.  “Sir, what guest?  Someone coming to see us off?”

“Something like that.  You’ll find out soon enough.”  He brushed past her.

Shepard strode to the bridge and craned her neck out the port.  Her impatience was soon rewarded as Anderson returned in a transport, with an armed and armored turian riding shotgun.  “The hell is this?”

“Huh?”  Joker followed her gaze.  “Ok, is this or is this not a classified Alliance vessel?”

“Well, they did help with the project, early on.”  She ducked down, trying to keep them in view as they parked, not liking it any more than their pilot.  “Maybe they’re protecting their investment.”

“Still our ship,” Joker said stubbornly.  “We don’t need some random alien watching over our shoulders and checking our work.”

“Ain’t worth the pay some days, is it.”

“You said it, ma’am.”

Shepard got herself the few feet to the hatch just as Anderson and the turian came aboard, and held herself at attention.  There was a glimmer of amusement in his eye, but he kept his tone crisp as he gestured towards her.  “My executive officer, Commander Shepard.”

The turian inclined his head as Anderson continued.  Streaks of white decorated his face and crest. “Shepard, this is Nihlus Kryik, with Citadel Special Tactics and Reconnaissance.”

“A spectre?”  That was the last explanation she expected.  She peered at the turian with new scrutiny.  His polite smile, if she wanted to call it that on a mouth with no lips, widened a touch.

“I’ve been assigned to this ship as an observer,” Nihlus rumbled pleasantly, in that odd turian voice that sounded halfway between a hum and a growl.  He used English, though he had to know Shepard had a translator package in her omni-tool, and like many spec ops marines she could understand the most common turian dialects without it besides.  A small courtesy.  “Do not worry, Commander.  I have no plans to get in the way of your crew or the _Normandy_ ’s operations.  The Council is most interested in seeing your clever stealth system in action.”

She recovered herself and nodded.  “Welcome aboard.”

“See that our guest is made to feel at home,” Anderson interjected, pleasantly, but there was no doubt it was an order.

“Yes, sir.  If you’ll follow me, please.”  A glance over her shoulder as she led the spectre towards the stairs showed Joker staring open-mouthed.  She shrugged, still at a loss, and saw to getting Nihlus settled on the crew deck.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity.  Around midmorning, the military journalist showed up to document the event for the navy's archives.  They all stood around smiling for his camera as Anderson broke a bottle of champagne against the hull.  For years, he shepherded this project through no fewer than three massive bureaucracies to bring the idea to fruition, and nobody could think of anyone more appropriate.  The Alliance was proud of this ship, and nothing in this mission was without ceremony, up to and including the destination for the stealth check-out, Eden Prime- one of the first and most successful human colonies.

Then it was back aboard ship, checking everyone was at their posts, making certain all gear was stowed and there were no last-minute questions or concerns.  That was Shepard’s X.O. duty in a nutshell.  It fell to her to keep the ship running smoothly, whether that meant assigning a duty roster, tracking logistics, or smoothing friction in the crew.  Of course, Anderson had his own reasons for selecting her that had little to do with an ability to make sure the tank was full.  Spec ops was an important branch of the Systems Alliance, but not so important or large that they rated their own ships.  Command preferred to integrate their special forces with other personnel for large-scale undertakings.  Anderson came up the ranks that way himself and appreciated the value.

There was nothing quite like the launch of a ship, even a frigate-class, which launched horizontally like a shuttle.  The deep, shuddering resonance of the engines travelled through the bones of the ship, up through the boots and into the body until it felt like it was the whole rest of the world that shook.  The first five seconds passed so slowly, this enormous ship straining and pushing and going nowhere.  Then, in the pit of her stomach, she felt the momentum dampers come online, thief and salvation both, creating a pocket of stillness in the belly of the beast.  The ship broke free.  And the land ran like wet paint.

There was no describing how fast it went by.  Even Shepard, who considered herself something of a connoisseur of speed, was left without words.  Mars fell away, followed by a gradient atmosphere of pink thinning to black, and at last, passing around the far side, there was nothing but the curve of the planet and the pinpricks of stars.  Even though she knew the ship’s velocity was extraordinary, instinct reported the travel had smoothed, slowed, hit a natural stride.  This was orbit.

Normally, this stage would be passed over.  There was no technical need.  But it was a new ship, and this was the first test of its environmental and engine systems in the real vacuum of space.  Everyone preferred a few trials be run while they were still in range of every conceivable help.  The crew settled in for phase one of the shakedown, slated to take six hours.  That took them into third shift.  Anderson wasn’t keen on sleeping while the _Normandy_ made her maiden voyage through the relays, so the ship would rendezvous with Charon overnight, and pass through first thing in the morning.

Shepard went about her duties, but everywhere she turned, Nihlus was at her back.  He asked the occasional question, but mostly he just watched, arms folded behind his back, eyes black and sharp.  It was getting on her nerves, though she was damned if she would let him notice.  Turian spectre, indeed.  She had nothing against turians, but a lot against any outsider who presumed to cast judgment on an unfamiliar ship or crew.  And spectres were… well.  Everyone had heard the stories.  Shepard wasn’t convinced she believed half of them and the other half she didn’t much like.

Nihlus’ scrutiny made the exemplary performance of ship and crew even more pleasing.  For all their mistakes in the simulators, they executed the live run with next to no errors.  Everyone was sharp and on top of their tasks.  Joker was in heaven- apparently the ship exceeded even his astronomical expectations.  Even Anderson was smiling, albeit in a reserved way.

It was with excitement that the lead team switched out bunks with the night crew.  Everyone was looking forward to reaching Eden Prime.


	4. Special Tactics

It took fewer than two days for Nihlus to get under Joker’s skin.

“Drift of 1500.  That’s good,” The turian’s rumble of a voice was approving.  His mandibles clacked against his jaw.  “Your captain will be pleased.”

Nihlus nodded at Shepard as he took his leave of the bridge, and the moment his back was turned Joker pulled a face.  She folded her arms and gave him a level look.  “What’s the problem?”

“After a relay jump, 1500 drift isn’t good- it’s amazing!  It’s like hitting a rhino between the eyes from orbit.”  He made a disgusted sound at the back of his throat.  “And I don’t like the way he’s been looking over all our shoulders non-stop, either.  Something’s up.”

Alenko sat in the right-hand couch, with a half-dozen displays circling his hands.  His concentration didn’t waver from his work.  “He gave you a compliment, so he has some nefarious agenda?”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” Joker protested.  “It just doesn’t feel right.  Why is he here?  This mission is boring.  We’re inside Alliance space, the ship passed all the ground tests with flying colors, and it’s just a shakedown for the rest of the hardware.  The most exciting thing that could happen is we lose power or something and drift out here all of half a day before the Alliance scrambles a rescue.”

“It’s not just an Alliance ship, Joker,” Alenko replied with the tired overtones of someone who had already made this point twenty times over.

Joker swiveled in his chair.  “What do you think, Commander?  There’s more to this mission, right?”

“You know better than to ask questions like that,” she answered, automatically, but with less severity than usual.  Joker was well aware that need-to-know was real, with real reasons and consequences.  But deep down she agreed and it frustrated her to no end.  She was the X.O.   It was well within her purview to be informed of all ship operations, classified or not, and furthermore she was an N7 operative and accustomed to dealing in secrecy.  What could Anderson possibly have on the boil that was so sensitive she couldn’t be trusted?

To her chagrin, Joker winked and touched his nose.  “Yes, ma’am.  As you say.”

“You watch too many extranet spy vids,” Alenko muttered, not quite quietly enough to escape Joker’s hearing.

He made another face.  “What are you even doing up here, L.T.?  You can’t fly a ship.”

“Adams thinks the drive response might be a bit sluggish, but it was hard to test without putting the ship through a real maneuver.  But for that same reason, he needed all his engineers on deck.”  He shrugged.  “He needed someone with the engineering equivalent of the ability to hold a hammer up here to run the diagnostic.  I can do that.”

“This ship practically dances through a relay.  No way is the command link slow.”

“It is.”  Alenko swiped at the haptic interface, sending a data screen flying onto Joker’s display.  “Check it out for yourself.”

Joker scrutinized the data.  “I’ll be damned.”

“Is it going to affect operations?”  Shepard peered over his shoulder.  It was a futile gesture.  She could no more interpret a series of raw cable readings than sing an aria. 

“No, Commander.  She’ll need some recalibration, that’s all.  Adams might even be able to do it live if we’re lucky.”

“Carry on, then.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

Shepard returned to the CIC.  It was an old habit, but she never got tired of seeing a relay up close.  That moment when the blue tendril of the giant mass effect field vortex at the heart of the relay spun out and engulfed the ship, and performed the vanishing cabinet trick on an entire frigate in the space of a quantum blink, was about as close to magic as she figured she was ever likely to get.  It worked- but it was Prothean.  There were any number of details no human or alien truly understood about the relays even after thousands of years of study. 

Immediately, she overheard Navigator Pressly arguing over his comm to Adams, insisting there was more to this mission than meets the eye.  Her mood soured another notch as she approached his station.

“Commander.” Pressly straightened and turned towards her.  He looked paler than on Mars, the orange lights designed for dark-sensitive vision washing all the color out of him. 

Shepard didn’t prevaricate.  “Navigator, what is our mission?”

“To fully validate the new stealth system, ma’am,” he answered promptly.

“And?” She raised an eyebrow.

Pressly’s brow furrowed.  “That sums it up, I think.”

“Exactly.”  She folded her arms.  “We do not spread rumor and speculation.  Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”  He put his heels together and went to attention, a touch stiffly at the chastisement.  “That turian just has me jumpy, ma’am, no disrespect.  I’ve heard about these spectres.”

“What have you heard?” she asked, with genuine curiosity.  Shepard’s knowledge of their remit ended at the bird’s eye view of their role as the galactic Council’s left hand.

“Enough to know that spectres don’t bother with this kind of mission, no matter who built the damn ship.  They could have sent anyone to do a simple inspection.”  He shook his head.  “And from the way he’s scrutinizing us, hardly saying a word, it’s clear he’s expecting something to happen.”

“I hear that.  He’s been sticking to my ass like a burr since he came aboard.”  It was beyond tedious.  Every checklist, every order, he wanted to double-check personally, and what was worse, Anderson let him.

As if reading her thoughts, Pressly continued, “And then there’s the captain.  If there’s a more decorated black ops officer in the fleet, I’d be hard-pressed to name him.  Why is he overseeing this mission personally?”

Shepard rubbed the bridge of her nose.  “It’s his ship.  It’s hard to imagine he wouldn’t want to take charge of her maiden voyage, test run or no.”

Pressly went on as if he hadn’t heard her, ticking off his third point on his fingers.  “And why do we have a full crew?  A skeleton crew would be cheaper.  Special operations, special personnel, and a damned turian.  No offense, ma’am, but this doesn’t smell right.”

“We need a full crew in case-“ She sighed, and gave up.  “You know what?  It doesn’t matter.  Do your job and stop spreading this kind of shit around.  Even if you’re right, it’ll only make people nervous.”

“As you say, ma’am.”  He turned back to his console.

She folded her arms and changed the subject.  “What’s your problem with turians anyway?”

“My family fought in the First Contact War.  We lost some friends.  I can’t say I trust them.”

“My parents lived through Shanxi, too.  But that was a long time ago.”  In truth, Shepard could barely remember the war, if you wanted to call a three-month misunderstanding a war.  She was only a toddler when it happened.  Most of the old guard, however, those who could recall Relay 314 with great clarity, felt like Pressly, so she tried not to sound too dismissive.

“Yes it was, but they’re still the same damned-“ Pressly caught her look and swallowed the end of his statement.  “Was there anything else, ma’am?”

“As you were.”   Shepard found her own terminal and began looking over the crew reports from the transit.  So far, it was a textbook run.  All the training paid off.

Shepard was only at it a few minutes before Joker’s voice crackled over the speakers.  “Commander, the captain wants to see you in the comm room.”

She glanced at the ceiling instinctively, even though Joker would hear her response no matter where she directed her voice, courtesy of the _Normandy’s_ VI.  “Tell him I’m on my way.”

Shepard rounded the corner and nearly collided with Dr. Chakwas and Corporal Jenkins. 

“I can’t wait for the real mission to start,” Jenkins was saying.  Indeed, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet like a two-year-old, and there was a wild look about him, two parts excited to one part nervous.

A biting response rose to her tongue- couldn’t anyone on this ship focus on their stated mission?- but Shepard was learning to reign in her temper fast.  “You better settle down before you strain something, Corporal.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”  For a split second he seemed appropriately chastised, but it passed quickly.  “I can’t believe there’s a real spectre on board!”

“Spectres are trouble,” Chakwas stated, with little inflection.  There was that little half-smile playing about her mouth Shepard was coming to regard as her base expression, as if she’d seen so much of life the only logical response left was to be vaguely amused.  “They have no official authority, only a general mandate to protect galactic interests.  And they keep to themselves.  It’s rare to see one working with a ship’s crew like this.”

“Protect the galaxy _at any cost_ ,” Jenkins emphasized.  “Spectres operate above the law.  The only person who can take out a spectre is another spectre.”

Chakwas chuckled.  “I believe the corporal is mistaking romanticized anecdotes for reality.”

Shepard's brow furrowed.  “So why aren’t there any human spectres?  If it’s a council-wide organization?”

The doctor shrugged.  “They’re drawn primarily from the council races.  Turians of course have a strong military tradition, but asari turn up everywhere, and salarians are widely considered the galactic masters of covert operations.  The Alliance has tried for years to forward a human candidate for consideration, but so far, no luck.”

“Hey.”  Jenkins’ eyes lit up as a thought struck him.  “I bet you’d make a pretty good spectre, Commander.  You proved you can hold your own against any of those guys back on Akuze.  I hope I get that kind of chance someday.”

Invoking that event in defense of this nonsense made her stomach churn.  Jenkins was as bad as those guys who obsessed over combat sim tournaments, the ones who thought they could be N7 if only their lives turned out differently.  Her eyes narrowed.  “Fifty marines died.  Show some damn respect."

He swallowed.  She didn't let up.  "The Alliance Navy isn’t about seeking personal glory.  It’s about doing the best damn job you can, no matter what, and then getting up the next day and doing it again.  Every last one of those men and women understood that.”

“I’m- I’m sorry, Commander.  I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Shepard watched him for a long moment before she let her expression soften.  “Just remember your training, keep sharp, and follow my orders, and you’ll be fine.  Whatever happens.”

He drew himself up.  “Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded at them both.  “The captain’s waiting for me.”

_Normandy’s_ comm room was state of the art, as befit a ship specializing in reconnaissance.  Aside from the obvious- top-notch displays and audio, multiple channels and terminals- there were the hidden technologies, encryptions so bleeding-edge half the protocol book still had editorial notes from the coders penciled in the margins.  The antenna could get a hook in a comm buoy half a system away, and deliver that signal straight back to Earth if necessary, on a beam so tight she’d bet the whole ship against its interception.  Or it could project a conversation in real time, on a secured link, with fully rendered holos of all the participants from several worlds.

When Shepard walked in, Nihlus was using all that brilliant tech to screen a commercial tourist vid of Eden Prime.

“Planning a holiday?” Shepard asked dryly.

“Ah, Commander.”  The spectre turned and clasped his hands- claws? Turians had such bony fingers- behind his back.  He wore his hard suit, as he had the entire trip, despite the discomfort.  “I hoped to speak with you privately.”

“Regarding?”  She folded her arms and leaned back against the rail ringing the room to protect the video equipment. 

“This world of yours, Eden Prime.”  He gestured at the vid.  “Lovely, isn’t it?”

“Not my world.  I’ve never been there.”  She tilted her head.  “What’s this about?”

“Like every species, humanity is of limited resources.  Yet you pour so many of yours into this jewel of a garden world, this colony, right on the border of Council space, with pirates, slavers, mercenaries, and worse just waiting to spill over from the Terminus the moment you let down your guard.”  His mandibles flared. 

Shepard was no expert in turian body language, but she sensed displeasure.  “What do you care?  It’s an Alliance colony.”

“Your aptly-named Alliance is still young.  Humanity is young.  You’re still used to thinking in terms of disparate nations, not as one people of intertwined concerns.”  Nihlus paced before the holo pedestals.  “This is why you don’t have a good foothold on the galactic stage.  And you have no idea of the true dangers this galaxy can present.  None.”

The corner of her mouth quirked.  “Are you trying to scare me, spectre?”

“Enough.” 

Shepard straightened automatically as Anderson entered the room.  He nodded to her.  “I think it’s time we told the commander what’s really going on.”

“Indeed.”  Nihlus turned to her.  “This is not a simple shakedown run.”

“Thanks.  I’d already figured that one out, along with half the crew.”  She glanced at Anderson.  “I assume there is a good reason I wasn’t informed earlier.  Sir.”

“Don’t get cute with me, Shepard.  This came straight from the top.  Strictly need-to-know.  We couldn’t chance an information leak.”  He paused.  “Scientists on Eden Prime have unearthed a Prothean artifact.  Our job is to go in, quick and quiet, and retrieve it for further study aboard the Citadel.”

She took a moment to absorb that.  There wasn’t a human alive who didn’t appreciate the magnitude of how the Prothean archives on Mars changed the course of their history.  Other than the relays, they’d found no other technological remnants in forty years, in any of their colonies.  “The Protheans disappeared fifty thousand years ago.  What are the odds the thing still even works?”

“Right now, it appears to be intact.”  Anderson was quite serious.  “Shepard, this is big. What if this time it’s not just ship technology, but something even more dangerous, like a weapons cache?  We can’t risk it falling into the wrong hands.”

Shepard considered Nihlus’ concerns in a new light.  Eden Prime sat just this side of the Attican Traverse, an unstable region humans and batarians had fought over for ten years and a buffer zone for the true lawlessness of the Terminus Systems at the far edge of the galaxy.  If Eden Prime was an old Prothean colony, it was uncomfortably close to Terminus territory.  Suddenly, she was worried too.  “Sir, why are we bringing it to the Citadel?  This is a human colony, a human ship.  Is it really a good idea to make this information so public?”

“We need to spread a little goodwill among the other races, and the sanctions for concealing Prothean technology are among the harshest in the galaxy.”  His expression was severe.  Then he admitted, “And we’ll need their help to crack its secrets.  They have more expertise with this kind of scientific work.”

“This goes beyond human concerns, Shepard, regardless of the need for secrecy.  That’s why we want to extract it with a stealth ship.” Nihlus tossed Anderson a significant look that left her puzzled.

Anderson cleared his throat.  “But this so-called beacon isn’t the only reason Nihlus is here.  He’s come to observe you.”

“I guess that explains why I’ve been bumping into him every time I turn around.”  She fiddled with her thumbs behind her back.  “Why?”

“We’ve petitioned the Council for years to inaugurate a human spectre.  Nihlus has put your name forward.  They’ve been watching you for some time.”

“Nihlus put my name forward?”  Her surprise was obvious.  Shepard didn’t have a knee-jerk distrust for turians like Pressly.  She knew they were just people, like anyone else, good, bad, and indifferent, but the Hierarchy wasn’t exactly a friend of the Alliance, either.  Just like the Alliance still remembered the affront to their sovereignty, the turians recalled the staggering reparations they were ordered to pay when the asari brokered peace, for what in their eyes was simply enforcing galactic law. 

“I don’t care about species representation.” Nihlus was frank.  “I do care about the defense of the galaxy.  People who possess the skills required of a spectre are rare in any species, and I suspect you may be among them.  There’s too much work to ignore any candidate on arbitrary grounds.  I care if you can do the job.”

“Nihlus will observe your next several missions and forward his recommendation to the Council.”  Anderson made it sound like a done deal.

Suddenly, it all made sense.  The sudden promotion to X.O.  The way Anderson was riding her about the politics of the position, nitpicking everything from her interactions with the crew to how she dressed.  She hadn’t lived through Akuze for nothing; she knew very well the kind of media circus that could erupt from being singled out like this, and how touchy the galactic Council was about perception.  Nobody wanted to see the Alliance embarrassed.

Shepard’s mind raced.  This was the last thing she’d expected, and she found herself floundering a bit.  “I assume this is good for the Alliance, sir?”

“Very.” Anderson watched her closely.

A dozen questions immediately sprang to mind.  Was it even possible to be both Alliance and a spectre?  Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest?  She signed up to defend humans, human space, against any and all threats, and moreover she enjoyed serving.  Most of the time, anyway.

But the offer was also alluring, in the same way as N7 before she understood what that really meant.  It was a chance to be recognized as the best of the best.  Shepard was no more immune to that than the next marine.  And god knew she chaffed at the restrictions placed on her, sometimes.

In the end, it didn’t matter.  She’d ceded a portion of control of her life when she signed up, and a great deal more when she joined special operations.  This was nothing new.  She saluted smartly.  “I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Good.”  He sounded pleased.  “We should be making our final approach soon-“

“Captain.”  Joker’s voice filled the room.  “I just received a transmission from the surface.  I think you need to see this.”

“Put it up on the screen.”

What filled the room next was nothing less than a vision of hell. 

The farmland of Eden Prime was transformed into a field of corpses.  Marines littered the ground.  A shaky camera captured a few still fighting, firing shots at unseen enemies.  At one point, a fellow marine pushed the cameraman down, in an apparent protective gesture, and continued shooting.  Smoke and a strange pinkish-red light were everywhere.  Shepard found herself glancing at Anderson, checking for surprise, and saw no trace of recognition on his face.  This was a shock to him, too.  Which meant it was outside the plan.

Further down the line, Nihlus’ mandibles were flexing again.  She definitely called it right as a sign of unease.  He fingered the pistol hanging at his hip, thinking furiously.  Shepard turned her attention back to the display.

“That’s all of it, Captain,” Joker said.  “Nothing but dead air on every channel now.”

Anderson’s eyes never left the vid.  “Take it to 38.5 and hold.”

Joker did as he asked, and then Shepard saw it, the object that was too fleeting to make out the first time through.  It was gigantic, sleekly black, perched like a wasp on long segmented legs over the colony.  Pink lightening crackled around its carapace. 

“The hell is that?” she breathed.  It surely wasn’t a ship of Terminus pirates or mercs.

“What’s our ETA?” Anderson barked. 

Joker answered immediately.  “17 minutes out, sir.  No other Alliance ships in range.”

Nihlus turned towards them.  “A small strike team could get in undetected.  Maybe get a handle on the situation, maybe get the beacon out.”

“Get your gear and tell Jenkins and Alenko to suit up.”  Anderson never looked at her, his eyes narrowed at that strange ship.  “Things just got a hell of a lot more complicated.  You’re going in.”

Shepard stared at the frozen image a moment longer.  “Roger that.”


	5. The Beacon

They were in the shuttle bay at ETA five minutes, hardsuits fully checked out and weapons ready.  The hardsuit was at the core of modern marine equipment.  Aside from the best armoring advancements materials science could provide, arranged to protect vital areas while maintaining a wide range of motion, the suit contained a portable mass effect field generator that would act as a weak shield against projectiles and biotic attacks.  The shield wouldn’t hold up for more than a few seconds in combat, but sometimes a few seconds were the difference between finding cover and bleeding out in the dirt.  Unfortunately, it also caused inexperienced marines to treat this temporal padding as an extension on their maneuverability.  That was fine for someone like Shepard, who knew to the millisecond how long her shield would last and by instinct when it was about to go down, but for a rookie it only granted overconfidence.

A hardsuit was also the only piece of gear an Alliance marine was likely to encounter that was custom-fit.  The webbing was cut to measure and the plating adjusted to fit each soldier’s particular frame.  The shield didn’t and couldn’t extend much beyond the boundaries of the armor, so it was important that it fit correctly.  This was aside from the benefits provided to agility and stamina, as proper-fitting gear that hung correctly off the body was less tiring to carry, and sometimes a marine had to live in the suit for days.  Shepard was grateful; she was accustomed to letting out the hems of her uniforms to the maximum fabric allowance, but she couldn’t imagine fighting in a hardsuit that fit so poorly.

The four of them checked over the last of their weaponry while Anderson explained the plan.  “Nihlus will scout ahead and relay information back to your team, Shepard.  Your mission is to assess the situation on the ground and extract the beacon.”

“Survivors, sir?” Alenko asked, where he stood ready behind her.

“Survivors are secondary to recovering this artifact.  We can’t allow it to fall into enemy hands.”

Shepard nodded.  “Understood.”

After dropping Nihlus, Joker deposited her squad away from the combat zone, so as not to draw unwanted attention.  Back here it was hard to remember there was any fighting at all.  Rocky green pasture rolled uninterrupted to the distant horizon, dotted here and there with gas bag creatures resembling overgrown jellyfish.  Even the gunfire was too distant to hear.

At least, until she turned around, and saw the devastation below the ridge where they stood, spreading out in waves towards the heart of the colony. 

The network of valleys looked like bloody scars scoring the land.  Smoke occulted much of the landscape, glowing faintly from the fires beneath as the fields burned, the whole agrarian economy of Eden Prime disappearing before her eyes under an ochre sky.  A gust of wind blew the ash up into her lungs, choking her.

“Ship perimeter secure.” Alenko called, turning as she coughed out the smoke, and caught sight of the devastation.  His eyes went wide.  He breathed, almost to himself, “What happened here?”

Shepard ejected the last of the ash, then gave herself a little shake and deliberately turned her back on the scene.  “We’ve got a hike ahead of us.  Move out.”

Jenkins continued to stare blankly across the colony.  She touched his shoulder briefly, grounding him, and he turned away with a look of determination.  Shepard recalled belatedly that Jenkins hailed from Eden Prime, but perhaps it was for the best.  Nobody would fight harder for it.

She pressed the comm link buried in her ear.  “Nihlus.  We’re in.”

“Good.”  The line crackled with static.  Something was playing hell with the transmissions.  “I’ll scout ahead and meet you at the dig site.”

“Roger that.  Shepard out.”

Eden Prime, for all its significance, had only one colonial site.  Various missions and corporations had scouted locations for additional settlements, but so far no money had come through.  Instead, the original site was allowed to sprawl.  After thirty years, it covered nearly a million acres counting the farmland.  That centralization made the colony only more vulnerable.  Shepard still could not imagine who would have the audacity to wage an attack on this scale, here in the heart of human space, with no warning whatsoever.  Her thoughts naturally ran to the batarians, but this had none of their hallmarks- no sign of a fleet, no demands, no groundside raiding parties in sight.  The invading ship from the vid message, if that was what it was, was certainly not of the Hegemony.

They’d been walking for fifteen minutes when she heard the first shots and signaled a stop.  Peering around an outcrop, she couldn’t make out the enemy, but signaled they should proceed with caution.  The three of them picked their way down into the rock-strewn valley, moving from one concealed location to the next, tensed with weapons drawn.  She could tell already that Jenkins was struggling.  His movements were sloppy, and his crouches exposed the top of his head.  Some of it was undoubtedly the circumstances but a lot of it was typical kid stuff.  These guys came out of basic without ever having experienced a real firefight, or real fear, and they just didn’t watch themselves like they should. 

Her attention was torn between scouting ahead with her eyes and constructing the ear-stinging lecture Jenkins badly needed once the immediate danger was past.  Her nose twitched as another gust of smoke hit them.  She knew she’d heard gunfire.  But where the hell was the shooter?

Then a flash of metal caught her eye, and before she could do more than open her mouth, Jenkins shuffled out of cover.  A pair of flying drones launched a hailstorm of bullets.  His body twitched with the force of it, dancing as it fell. 

Shepard threw her gun over the top of the nearest boulder, braced it against the stone, peered down the sight, and pulled the trigger in one fluid motion.  Over the years she’d learned to all but do surgery with her assault rifle, but she was still too slow.  By the time the turrets fell Jenkins was gone.

Alenko bent over the body and shut Jenkins’ eyes, visibly shaken.  Shepard took a deep breath, and blew it back out.  Incidents like this were always unsettling.  _Damn it._

After a moment, she was able to speak calmly.  “There’s nothing more we can do for him.  We need to finish the mission.”

Alenko continued to squat beside the corporal, his face invisible to her at this angle.  She touched his shoulder.  “We have to get moving.  We’re sitting ducks here.  I’m sorry.”

“I-“ He glanced again at the body, jaw clenched, then back at her.  “Right.  Yes, ma’am.”

Shepard watched him a few seconds more, to be sure he’d hold together, but if anything he seemed more resolute.  That was good.  It was the only way grief, or regret, served any purpose on a battlefield.  They picked up their gear and set off again towards the colony, leaving Jenkins at peace in the grass behind them.

Alenko trudged in silence beside her.  She wondered if she’d given offense by not being more worked up about it.  It wouldn’t be the first time.  She hadn’t know Jenkins well or for very long, and keeping focus regardless of circumstances had never been much of a challenge for her.  And Alenko was difficult to read at the best of times.

After awhile, once their nerves stopped twanging like over-tuned guitar strings and she felt a topic change would not be met with overt hostility, Shepard asked, “What were those things?  They didn’t look much like Alliance recon drones.”

“Call me crazy,” Alenko said, “But I think they might’ve been geth.”

“You are crazy.  Nobody’s seen geth in, what, three hundred years?”

“I took a seminar on quarian technology years ago.  Those looked an awful lot like the drones used during their war.  It’s hard to say for certain from the pieces left.”  If anything, he seemed grateful for the shift in subject, rambling a bit, but harmlessly.

“Where’s there’s geth drones, there’ll be actual geth.”  Shepard grimaced.  “If you’re right we’ll find out soon enough.  Could that wasp ship be geth?”

“Don’t know.  I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.”

At that point, Nihlus’ voice crackled over the comm.  “I’m finding a lot of bodies here, Commander.  Something hit the colony hard, right at the heart of it.”

That quieted any chatter.  It was too easy to picture Jenkins’ body on Nihlus’ field.  Not long after, the distinctive rattle of an assault rifle sounded up ahead.  They picked up the pace. 

As they crested the ridge, a marine ran straight towards them, still too far to make out more than a uniform.  Behind her, two lanky machines were loading a moaning human onto some kind of device.  They had an odd grace, their heads curved and narrow, terminating in an LED cluster that resembled nothing so much as a flashlight.  Long, elegant fingers held their victim’s limbs like manacles to the tripod.  The platform was barely large enough to hold him, its purpose entirely unclear.

Shepard raised her rifle.  But before she could open fire, the machines pressed a button.

Shepard’s eyes went round as they triggered the device.  The man up shot up five meters into the air, impaled upon a telescoping spike, screaming with as much terror as pain.  It trailed off into a ragged burble as he died, too unearthly and exaggerated to possibly be real.  He hung limply from the pole.

The marine was still running towards them.  Their task complete, the machines finally took notice of her and drew the rifles slung over their backs.

Training took over in place of shock.  Shepard dove for cover and set her sights on the machines.  Maybe Alenko was right, and they were geth- she sure didn’t know of any other rogue AI wandering the galaxy, and they had to be AI. No combat mech ever acted with such sophistication.

The unidentified marine stumbled as she tried to duck the crossfire.

Alenko gestured and the machines smacked into a rock wall in a shower of blue biotic light, where Shepard’s gun rendered them shrapnel and grease.  Two more drones, perhaps attracted by the noise, dropped in behind the fleeing woman and planted two shots squarely in her back in a burst of scattered blue as her shield absorbed the impact.  For a second Shepard thought they were about to lose another person, but this marine was quicker, throwing herself onto the ground and returning fire.  The drones were no match for the three of them.

Shepard kept her gun aimed ahead, expecting more trouble, and jerked her head at the woman.  “Go!  We got you!”

The marine scrambled back to her feet and made for an outcrop.   She slid down the stone with an unmistakable expression of relief, panting like she’d just run a marathon.  Which, in all likelihood, she had.

Shepard gave the field one last glance and headed to her position.  She struggled to stand and managed to get off a weak salute as Shepard and Alenko approached, taking in their insignia.  “Are you in charge, ma’am?”

Shepard looked her over.  Her brown eyes were steady, but her hands shook around her gun.  “I’m Commander Shepard.  My frigate received a distress call not more than an hour ago.  Who are you?”

“Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212, and boy am I glad to see you, if you don’t mind me saying.”  Williams glanced over her shoulder, as if expecting more geth at any time, and drummed her fingers against the barrel of the rifle.  Her words came at a staccato pace.

“Are you injured?”  There was something familiar about her Shepard couldn’t quite place.

“No, ma’am.  Not me.” 

Recognition snapped into place.  “You’re the one from the transmission.  You shoved the cameraman to the ground.”

“I didn’t think anyone would pick that up.  He didn’t make it.”  She licked her lips, glanced away, then back, her eyes moving in a quick circle, keeping everything in sight.

“Where’s the rest of your unit?”  Shepard didn’t know why she was asking.  She knew that look from the inside out _._ Fucking Akuze. 

Williams shook her head.  Her face was ashen.  “It’s just me now.”

“This isn’t your fault.  You did exactly what you were supposed to do.”  As if that ever mattered.  The girl looked like she was holding up well enough for some questions.  It would hit her later, in a great wave that threatened to drown her, but for now, Williams might be of use.  “I need you to tell me everything you can remember about the attack.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Williams straightened, holding her head a little higher, glad of something constructive to do.  “We came in a few days ago to provide protection for the scientists.  They found something huge.  I heard one of them say it could be the greatest discovery in the last thirty years, since they found all the Prothean stuff on Mars.”

“Where did the geth come from?”

“Fuck, is that what those machines are?”  She paled beneath the bravado.  “We were deployed to secure the site as soon as the science guys figured out what they were dealing with.  Some said they saw a ship, bigger than a dreadnaught, falling out of the sky.  All I know is suddenly those things were swarming our camp.  We were on patrol.  We headed back straightaway and did the best we could, but…  All the scientists are probably dead, too.”

She trailed off.  Her eyes went out of focus and drifted somewhere over Shepard’s left shoulder.

“Stay with me, Chief.”  Shepard let a little sharpness into her voice, and Williams’ face snapped back to hers.  “What can you tell me about the beacon?  The thing the scientists were digging up?”

“Right.” She held her hand up above the level of her head.  “It was really tall, and kind of… sweeping?  Green.  I don’t know.  It didn’t seem to do much.”

Alenko interrupted, clearing his throat.  “Starting to feel a little exposed up here, ma’am.”

She nodded, and glanced at Williams.  But she sensed the question before Shepard could ask.  “They were keeping it at the dig site down the hill.”

Shepard nodded.  “Take us there.”

“Gladly.”  Williams checked her gun and smiled with absolutely no humor.  “Time for some payback.”

Shepard let that one go- whatever kept Williams on her feet, and hell, they were just machines.  Whatever she wanted to do with them couldn’t be wrong.  “Move out.”

The archaeological dig was shrouded in ramps, mountings, cables, energy generators, and everything else a group of scientists might need to investigate an exceptionally valuable monolith.  It was also swarming with geth.  Shepard moved ahead herself this time.  There was no need to have a repeat of Jenkins’ demise.  If they were spotted, she damn well wanted to be between their line of fire and the rest of her team, because she knew how to take it. 

From what she could tell, though, Williams understood how to move- not a rookie, then, or maybe just talented.  She didn’t make a racket and there were no signs of hesitation or halting, despite the horrors she’d so recently endured.  And they’d passed several broken drones on the way.  Also several bodies of marines who hadn’t made it, ones Williams scrupulously avoided so much as looking at. 

How the hell a woman with enough stamina and courage to survive this kind of assault was stuck down on the ground defied speculation, to Shepard’s way of thinking.  Maybe there was something in her service record that couldn’t be ignored.  Or maybe she just liked groundside posts.

They methodically gunned down the geth, working their way to the center of the dig, where they found… nothing.  Williams stared in disbelief.  “It was right here.”

“Somebody moved it,” Alenko glanced at her.  “The geth?  Or one of ours?”

Nothing was ever simple, Shepard thought, not without a touch of frustration.  “Where would they have taken it?”

Almost on cue, her comm spoke again in Nihlus’ grating turian voice.  “The spaceport’s up ahead.  I’m going to check it out.  Meet you there.”

Their eyes met, each reflecting the same thought.  Shepard cursed.  “They’re trying to get it off-world.”

“We have to stop them.”  Alenko started searching for a way up out of the dig.

Williams was confused.  “Why would the geth want a Prothean beacon?”

“We can ask those questions later.  Right now, we make for the spaceport.”  Shepard jerked her chin at Williams.  “Do you know the way?”

The chief nodded, and began walking.

They cleared the top of the dig site, and saw sheds serving as temporary housing and field laboratories for the scientists.  There weren’t any bodies, which Shepard found strange.  It was obvious a fight happened here.  What were the geth doing with the corpses?  Spiking them?  What was the point?

She voiced the question, and Alenko shrugged.  “Basic psychological warfare, right?”

“No.”  Williams hissed.  “The geth aren’t content with just killing us.  They want us to suffer.”

Shepard and Alenko exchanged a look.  Williams was clinging to stability by the skin of her teeth, but she was their only guide, things were too hot for an evac, and there was nothing they could say or do to make it easier.

The first shed was unlocked, and held nothing of interest.  It didn’t look abandoned in any haste.  Books were still on shelves, terminals neatly locked down.  No sign of any struggle.

There was movement behind the tinted windows of another shed.  Alenko hacked through the lock, and they stepped in with guns drawn, only to find two very frightened people in lab coats.

“Oh, thank god, you’re human,” the woman gushed, with a relief that couldn’t be forged.  She was the older of the pair.  The man squirmed beside her with wild eyes, barely acknowledging their presence, twitching faintly.

Williams blinked.  “Dr. Warren.”  She glanced at Shepard.  “The head of the science team.”

“Yes.”  Warren nodded, then shuddered, elaborately.  “When the attack came, we ran to the shed here and locked ourselves inside.  It was… horrifying.  Everyone was dying.  We heard them…”

The man mumbled something, drawing an apprehensive glance from the doctor.  She added lamely, “And this is my assistant, Manuel.  He was at the bottom of the dig when they attacked.  I’m afraid he’s…” 

“The age of humans is ended in fire and darkness,” Manuel intoned, suddenly meeting Shepard’s eyes.  She saw nothing of sanity in their depths.  He mumbled again and looked away.

Her squad shifted behind her, unnerved, but she steeled herself.  “Dr. Warren, what exactly did you find here?”

“The discovery of a lifetime.  Operational Prothean technology!  We called it the beacon- it seemed to be a communications device.  I’ve spent my whole career studying the Protheans.  This dig was like a dream…”  She trailed off, her gaze drifting to the window and the devastation that lay beyond.

Manuel stirred again, slamming his fist against the glass and making them all jump.  “They are coming.  Their return is imminent.  Soon they will cover the galaxy again and none shall be spared!”

His voice was rising.  Shepard narrowed her eyes. 

After an uncomfortable pause, Williams continued with the questioning.  “Did you see anyone move the beacon?”

“What?  We moved it ourselves, this morning, down to the spaceport.  We’ve done all we can in situ.” Warren gasped.  “You don’t think that’s what these creatures-“

“Could be.”  Shepard looked back at the open hatch, nervous.  “Did you see a turian come by, not long ago?”

“There are no turians on Eden-“ the doctor began to protest, but her assistant raised his gaze to Shepard’s and spoke in a tone of awe and fear.

“I saw him,” he stated, with the weight of dead certainty.  “The prophet.  He is their leader.  He brought the machines.  He will herald their return and grant them passage back to the light.”

Warren’s brow furrowed.  “You saw a turian?”

“Couldn’t be Nihlus,” Alenko remarked, confused.  “He was on the ship with us when the invasion began.”

Manuel muttered something.  Shepard stepped closer, cautiously, reaching out a gentle hand.  “Please, I need to kn-“

At that moment, Manuel’s eyes rolled back in his head and he opened his mouth, as if to scream.  Shepard clocked him in the temple before she even realized what she was doing, acting on pure instinct.  Manuel fell to the floor without so much as a sigh.

Warren sprang back, shocked.  Alenko rubbed his forehead, evidently disappointed, but there was no mistaking the slight relaxation throughout the group.  “That might have been a little extreme, Commander.”

“He was going to attract the geth with his antics.”  Shepard shook out her hand, a touch ashamed, but gladder than she was willing to admit that Manuel was silent.   “He wasn’t in his right mind.”

“I gave him some medication.  I suppose this will give it some time to kick in.”  Warren sighed, not entirely appeased, but as relieved as any of them.  She knelt beside Manuel.

“Thanks.”  Shepard blew out a breath.  “You’ve been very helpful.”

“What should we do now?”

Shepard glanced over her shoulder.  “Lock up again after we’ve gone, keep the lights down, and sit tight.  Keep him quiet.  If they haven’t found you yet I think you’ll be fine.”

The squad found more and more bodies as they moved closer to the spaceport, just as Nihlus reported.  Still not as many as Shepard would have expected from an assault of this magnitude.  Three million people lived on Eden Prime.  The lack of a recent update from Nihlus also began to worry her.  Hostages crossed her mind along with several less pleasant possibilities, things that could make even a spectre go quiet, but it wasn’t until they were within sight of the spaceport that she put it all together.

“Hold up.”  She peered forward through the haze, covering her nose with the back of her hand.  “What’s that?”

Williams shuddered.  “Oh, god.”

Humanoid forms hung limply from several of the tall spikes they’d seen earlier, blood caking the sides and gathered into rusty pools at their base.  The stench of iron and offal joined the smoke in the air.  Shepard didn’t think the victims could truly be called human anymore.  Hair and clothing were gone, along with genitalia and any recognizable facial features.  Their skin, if it could be called skin, was gray, ashy, shot through with strange blue markings.  Mouths hung open in silent screams.

One twitched on its post.

Alenko’s tone reflected her own sudden nausea.  “They’re- they’re still alive?”

Words failed her.  “We should…”  What?  Cut them down?  Shoot them?

Without warning, the spikes telescoped back into their bases and shook loose their cargo.  The victims shambled to their feet and turned their empty eyes towards the squad. 

“Put them down!” Shepard yelled, bringing her rifle up. 

The fight was quick and brutal.  Nothing short of total disintegration of their bodies would stop the transformed humans.  Thankfully, they seemed to be held together with spit and cobwebs.  Shepard discovered quickly that shooting them out at the knees was highly effective.  They waited a moment, ready for another wave, scanning the foreground, but that seemed to be all of them.

“I almost wish it had been just brutality,” Williams commented, emptily, eyeing the muddled meat of the corpses and the quiescent implements that bled them dry. 

Shepard was grim.  “The geth are making them into those… things.  Those zombies.  I’ve never heard of any technology like this.”

She felt like they ought to try to disable the spikes, somehow, or kick them over at least, but she couldn’t bring herself to approach them.  There was a brooding malevolence about the devices, like something out of a legend, that made her skin crawl.  Every instinct recoiled against the idea of touching them.

“Look,” Alenko said, pointing.  “The bodies.  They’re…”

“Yeah.”  Shepard watched as the corpses collapsed into ashes, with no sign of flesh or bone.  “What the hell?”

He just shook his head.  Williams raised her head.  “More sheds.  Maybe more survivors-”

Everyone froze as a single pistol shot rang out from the direction of the spaceport, followed by silence.  She waited for the return fire but it never came.  “That wasn’t geth.”

The machines weren’t using pistols.  Their armaments would ring with staccato fire, not single shots.

“We need to go,” Alenko said, urgently.

Williams’ eyes lingered on the sheds.  Shepard reclaimed her wandering attention.  “Chief.”

Her face was a mask of anger.  Alenko muttered, barely loud enough for Shepard to hear, “Cut her some slack.”

Shepard looked at both of them.  “You’re smart enough to figure this out.  I know this isn’t what we were expecting, but all we can do is keep moving forward.  We’re going to make it to that beacon, and we’re going to get it into Alliance hands, and figure out what makes it worth starting a war- because that’s exactly what this is.  Just stay focused.  We’re almost done.”

For a moment it seemed Williams would snap at her, but she bit it back.  “Understood.”

Alenko looked away, towards the sheds, just as torn.  He bit his lip.  “Let’s get to that spaceport and get the hell out of here.”

The dock was covered in bodies.  Too many, apparently, for even the geth’s sadistic purposes.  Shepard could feel the slickness of their deaths under her boots as it trickled down the stairs in sticky lines, and wished, for the space of a moment, that she had her breather helm to avoid the stench.  Smoke, fire, traces of munitions and explosives, machine oil and rocket fumes, mixed with all the very human scents of carnage, made for a hell of a cocktail.  The odor was distracting.

One of the corpses was Nihlus.  She knelt beside it.  “One bullet to the head.  Close-range, too.  How does that happen to a spectre?”

“Movement, behind the crates.”  Williams’ gun was already aimed.  In a flash, Shepard and Alenko joined her.

A shaking man slowly stood, with both hands raised.  “Don’t shoot!  Oh god, please don’t shoot me.”

“Who are you?”  Shepard lowered her gun slightly.

“I work out here at the docks.”  He licked his lips.  “Name’s Powell.”

Shepard looked around at all the bodies.  “How are you alive?”

Williams’ offended stare drilled into her back.  She supposed it was a bit blunt.

Powell shifted from one foot to the other.  “Sometimes I need forty winks to get through a shift, know what I mean?  Nobody finds me behind these crates.  Not even those machines.”

There was something odd in his expression- the way his eyes started to slide to the crates, before he checked himself.  And unlike the scientist, he was less than happy to see a rescue arrive.  The geth got past Alliance listening posts somehow…

She strode to the nearest crate.  The man reached out his hand, a feeble attempt to stop her.  Shepard pried off the lid.  “Fuck me.”

Alenko and Williams peered inside.  A dozen Mark 14 grenades modified with thermite paste lay nestled in foam, like eggs.  Alenko blinked.  “These are military supplies.”

Powell whispered a curse.  “It’s not like anyone ever notices when a little goes missing off the top of those big Alliance shipments.”

Williams rounded on him, beyond incensed.  “You little bastard!  We’re out here busting our humps to protect your asses and all you can think about is how to rip us off?”

“It wasn’t like I thought you’d ever have to use them.”  He was sweating now, no doubt about it.  “Who’d attack Eden Prime?”

Shepard threw out her arm to stop Williams from jumping on the guy, and replied with crisp sarcasm.  “Yeah, a prime colony like this sitting all ripe and juicy on the edge of the Traverse wouldn’t attract any hostile attention.  Did you manage to see any of the attack?”

“Yeah.  Sure.  I woke up when that mothership landed.”  He grew distant, shivering faintly.  Shepard was oddly reminded of Manuel.  “There was this- sound- I don’t know how to describe it.  I don’t think it was in my ears.  Made my head feel like it was going to split open, like my brain was turning to mush.”

Alenko glanced her way.  “They were probably trying to jam communications.  All transmissions from the surface were cut off about the time we got the Chief’s vid, and we haven’t gotten any transmissions from the _Normandy_ either, not since we’ve been on the ground.” 

Shepard’s nod was more confident than she felt.  Everyone knew standard electronic communication frequencies didn’t overlap human audible range.  They could be looking at yet another exotic geth weapon, something to incapacitate targets, maybe make it easier to capture and spike their victims.  “So what exactly were you smuggling?  Just arms?  Information?”

He paled.  “Look, I never… All I did was take some stuff out of the big shipments, things nobody would miss.  I may be a coward but I’m no traitor, ok?  Just let me go.”

He glared at them sullenly.  Shepard ignored this, too.  “Did you see who shot Nihlus?”

“Nihlus?  Oh, the turian.  Yeah.  It was the other turian.”

Her brow furrowed.  “What other turian?”

“Your guy seemed to think he was a friend.  Lowered his guard.  Shot him right in the head!”

“Did you catch a name?”

“Called him Sarum.  Saren.  Something like that.  It’s hard to be sure.  Like I said, I was sleeping.”  Powell eyed the three of them nervously, his eyes shifting from gun to gun.

She glanced at Williams, who shrugged without taking her eyes off Powell.  “Never heard of any Saren.  Never heard of any turians on Eden Prime before this.”

“I’ll just be going now,” Powell interrupted.  “I need to get out of here.”

“One last thing- do you know where they took the Prothean artifact they dug up south of here?”

The dock worker jerked his chin towards a tram rail running the length of the spaceport.  “We took it to the other platform.  It’s all arrivals over here, not exports.”

Shepard let him go.  He slunk off, metaphorical tail between his legs. 

The dock was abandoned.  Parts of it were on fire.  Shepard was hardly a stranger to warzones, but each had its own unique kind of horror.  This one stank of fear, shock, and panic.  She licked her dry lips and raised her eyes up to the platform.  “The train’s stalled.  There’s a cargo platform halfway across.”

Alenko moved up to an abandoned terminal and holstered his weapon.  “I’ll see what I can do.”

As he worked, Shepard watched Powell walk away until she couldn’t see him anymore through the smoke.  The weasels always survived.  It took a certain amount of self-centeredness.

“I’m done.” Alenko straightened as the platform groaned into motion and began sliding towards their end of the port. 

They took the platform across to exports, over a natural valley dividing the spaceport.  Nobody spoke at all on the ten minute ride.  Whether the silence was out of exhaustion- they’d been on the surface, on high alert in a combat zone, for hours now- or out of shock or even respect for what occurred, she couldn’t say.

Shepard spent it checking over her gear.  It was a kind of meditation, something she’d done so many times it was comforting, and left her free to think.  If the beacon was still on Eden Prime, Saren or whoever this other turian was would have it heavily defended.  Shepard had only two goals now.  Get the beacon, if possible, and get her team extracted safely.  Anyone else out there would be on their own.  She fervently hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but no three people could fight a full-scale invasion alone, and there was zero doubt remaining that was the precise nature of this attack.

“Approaching the station, Commander.”  Alenko was already straining his eyes ahead, searching for enemies.

“Great.”  She slapped the cover back on the heat sink and vented the chamber.  “Let’s turn this place into a flashlight scrapyard.”

The fighting started before their platform even came to a complete stop.  She hit the dock at a flat run and dived behind a sheet metal guardrail, ducking over the top to provide cover fire as her squad moved into position.  The geth weren’t mindless, and it took a few exchanges to polish them off.  “The bridge!  Go!”

Alenko and Williams dashed ahead, up a ramp and across the highly exposed area between the rail and the eastern dock before more geth could return.  Shepard followed, gun clutched to her chest and head tucked down to maximize shield efficiency.  The whole time she felt like she had a giant target pasted on her suit. 

“What is that?”  Williams pointed.  Alenko swore.

Shepard crouched next to the cylinder.  “It’s a bomb.  They must be planning to blow the whole station.”  The timer blinked a host of information.  “It’s not set yet.  Looks like it’s wired to three other devices, all synced up.”

“We’ve got to shut them down!”  Alenko fired at the geth massing at the far end of the station. 

She ripped the front piece off the explosive, exposing the wiring.  “Cover me!”

“Yes, ma’am!”  Her squad began sniping at the geth to force them to hold position, as Shepard hastily sorted through the tangle of circuitry.  Luckily, it was very basic.  They must have been in a hurry.   Unluckily, it was in sequence with the remaining bombs, so there was no way to disable it without starting the timers on its sister munitions.

She did it anyway.  It was better than letting Saren start them at his leisure and catch them by surprise.  “Done!  We need to find the other ones ASAP.”

As they ran, Alenko panted, “Where did you learn to take apart a bomb?”

“N7, remember?”  Despite everything, she grinned.  “Did you think all we know how to do is _activate_ a bomb?”

“Geth!” Williams called out, crouching against a wall.

They fought through the defenses, lighter than Shepard had feared, and there was a collective exhale as she diffused the final bomb with thirty seconds to spare.  There was enough ordnance to level the entire spaceport.  Saren was playing hardball.

The geth were all either dead or gone, along with the zombies they’d found guarding the beacon.

The beacon itself was something to behold.  As tall as three men, it glowed yellow-green in the haze and smoke, and was to all appearances undamaged, a small victory against the losses here today.  Of Saren, there was no sign, and the insectile ship departed around the same time they arrived at the port. 

The glow startled Williams.  “It wasn’t doing that before.”

“We’ll let the scientists figure it out once we get our asses out of here.”  Shepard turned away, radioing their position so the _Normandy_ could come pick them up.  With the departure of the dreadnought, communications had cleared significantly.

Alenko and Williams continued staring at the device. 

“Real working Prothean tech,” Alenko said, amazed.  “Just imagine what it can teach us.”

“It’s a wonder, alright.”  Williams shook her head.  “I just hope it was worth it.  C’mon.”

She sauntered back towards Shepard.  Alenko continued to admire the device, drifting a few steps closer.  Then another few.  He found, suddenly, that he was unable to control his own legs, no matter how he dug in his heels.  His whole body started to shake.

Shepard caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye.  “Shit!”

She pushed past Williams and made a flying leap, managing to grab him about the waist and half-haul, half-toss him to safety before the alien device seized control of her own body in his stead.

Shepard started a good deal closer to the beacon than Alenko.  It was a matter of moments before it gripped her with its full extraordinary power, imbued with all the high technology tricks of the ancient masters of the galaxy.  She was lifted from the ground and transfixed in midair.

Alenko shook off the blow and made to go after her, but Williams held him down.  “No!  It’s too dangerous.”

Shepard was in her own world.  Scenes of carnage far surpassing anything she’d ever witnessed flashed through her mind, disjointed, chaotic.  No image held long enough for her to focus or fathom its purpose. 

Her whole body shook, her eyes stretched so far open that she feared the lids would tear. 

Unrecognizable aliens painted in orange flame sobbed in pain.  Here a creature screamed, intense, primal, a signal straight to her mammalian hindbrain, an overwhelming urge to flee- but she couldn’t.  She was held in the beacon’s thrall, to bear witness to these terrible things.  She couldn’t even scream herself despite the raw agony igniting every nerve her body.  Her spine arced with the force the visions moving through her.  Every muscle strained to breaking.

Then there was a massive wave of energy- the beacon’s hold vanished- and she fell into darkness.


	6. Shepard Wakes

Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko sat in the _Normandy’s_ med bay reading a book.  The first hours, the bad ones, when he and Williams had carried their unconscious commander back to the ship, when nobody was sure the extent of her injuries, were behind them.  Dr. Chakwas, so concerned at first, now felt confident there was no lasting harm that her instruments could detect, and it was only a matter of time until her patient woke. 

Alenko, however, noted all the “should” and “I thinks” in the doctor’s explanation, and thought it best to park himself here.  He’d had his share of waking up alone in coldly clinical rooms aboard Jump Zero as a kid, and Shepard was a friend.  He was worried.

Though the worst of it seemed over, he didn’t truly relax until Shepard groaned and stirred a bit on the table.  He set the book aside.  “Dr. Chakwas?  I think she’s waking up.”

The doctor hustled over.  She was at the late end of middle age, with a cap of silver hair cut short and practical.  Her fingers wielded her pen light with the precision of long practice.  Chakwas scrutinized the reaction of her pupils. “How do you feel?”

Shepard made a pained sound.  “Like the day after shore leave.”

Dr. Chakwas tutted, but she was smiling.  “I think you can try sitting up.  Easy does it.”

Slowly, Shepard raised herself until she was perched on the edge of the table, rubbing her head.  She caught sight of Alenko and blinked.  “How long was I out?”

“About fifteen hours, give or take,” he said.  There was real concern in his voice.  “We couldn’t wake you up after the beacon… did whatever it did.  Williams and I had to carry you back here.”

A small smile.  “Thanks.”

He returned it.  “What else are us grunts good for, right?” 

She snorted laughter and immediately regretted it.  Her hand rubbed her temple.  “God, I feel like my head’s going to split open.”

Chakwas felt around the base of her skull and neck with careful, gentle movements.  “Everything seems to be in place.  I think you got a nasty bump when you fell, likely a small concussion.  I recommend taking it easy the next few days.  And swallow these.” 

She handed her a paper cup of pills, which Shepard slammed down before accepting a small cup of water.

The light-hearted expression faded from Alenko’s face.  “Anyway, it was my fault.  I was too curious.  I must have triggered some kind of defensive mechanism when I got too close.”

“No.”  Another smile, this one meant to soothe more than convey anything like mirth.  “You couldn’t have known what would happen.  It was my command.  My fault.”

Shepard felt like she’d been hit by a Mako tank going at top speed.  Her whole body was one big ache.  Images from the beacon were still clear as glass in her mind, and as sharp.  Her thoughts shrank from them.

Almost on cue, the doctor said, “I did detect some strange activity in your brain scan.  Abnormal beta waves, usually indicative of some kind of intense dreaming.”

“More like a nightmare,” she muttered, staring past her knees to the cross-hatched metal floor.  Now that it was over, it felt… well, what would she think if a marine came to her and claimed to have been granted visions from an alien device?  She changed the subject.  “Did the beacon make it on board?”

“No,” said a voice from the doorway.  Anderson.  “It exploded after it did… whatever it did to you.  Maybe we’ll be able to get something from the pieces.  Maybe not.”

Shepard’s feet touched the ground and she managed to pull herself mostly upright.  The last thing she wanted was to appear an invalid in front of the captain. 

He nodded to her, pleased, and glanced around the room.  “I need to speak with my X.O.  Alone.”

“Right, sir,” Alenko said.  “I’ll be in the mess if you need me.”

He spoke to the captain, but he glanced at Shepard before he left, followed by the doctor. 

“How are you feeling?” Anderson asked, his voice crisper and less compassionate than Chakwas’.

“How do you think?”  She shook her head and winced- another mistake- and continued, a bite in her tone.  “The mission goes to hell because navy intel can’t find their backsides with both hands and a flashlight, thousands of civilian and military casualties including one of mine, and we didn’t even manage to recover our primary objective.  It was a total failure.”

“Don’t lecture me, Shepard.  The geth haven’t been seen outside the Veil in three hundred years.  Nobody could have predicted that.  And Saren.”  Anderson snorted disgust.  “Saren’s not just any spectre.  He’s a living legend, one of the Citadel’s most accomplished agents, and Nihlus’ mentor on top of that.  This is bad.   Real bad.”

“You’re telling me.”  She closed her eyes and massaged her forehead with her fingers.  She tried to force herself to think.  “Why attack Eden Prime?  He’s a spectre for fuck’s sake.  We may not sit on the Council, but we’re allied with them.  We have to live by their rules like everyone else.  And we get their protection, like everyone else.”

Anderson sighed and rubbed his face, looking old, and tired.  “Saren Arterius hates humans.  He thinks we’re expanding too fast, overstepping ourselves and becoming a menace to the galaxy.  A lot of aliens feel that way.  And now that the Council is starting to sympathize with us, just a little bit, now that we’ve got agreements to settle their problem territories, maybe he’s decided it’s time to take matters into his own hands.  He’s got an army of geth at his command, and attacking Eden Prime is nothing less than an act of war.”

“He has to know neither the Council nor the Turian Hierarchy is going to condone this.”  As plans went, this struck Shepard as a particularly poor one.  “If his goal is to force humanity back to Sol, or wipe us out, it’s going to take a lot more than one shipful of machines.”

“True.”  Anderson rubbed his chin.  “But he could be counting on the Council finding a way to stay neutral in the fight.  He may even be right about that.  The fact that they invented a shadow organization like the spectres should tell you the size of their appetite for getting dirt on their hands.”

She shook her head and raised her eyes.  “It won’t matter.  We’ll find some way to take him down, with or without their help.”

Anderson paced.  “It’s not that simple.  Spectres can go anywhere, do just about anything.  We don’t have that kind of mobility and after this disaster your odds of joining their ranks have decreased substantially.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong-” she began, hotly, but Anderson held up his hand to quiet her.

“You think I don’t know that?  It doesn’t matter.  The Council is only going to see that the beacon is lost and Nihlus is dead.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back against the table, frustrated.  “What now, sir?  The Citadel needs to know about Saren.  Even if they don’t believe us.”

He peered at her intently.  “I’ve got Alenko and Williams’ reports.  Can you tell me anything else?  Did the beacon reveal anything to you, anything at all that could help our case?  I find it hard to believe that a mere communications device would have defenses like that.”

“I…”  Shepard wasn’t sure how to say in a way that didn’t sound completely insane.  “I had some kind of… vision.”

“A vision?”  That seemed the last thing he expected to hear.  He chewed his lip.  “What sort of vision?”

“War.  Death.”  She shrugged, scuffed at the floor with the toe of her boot, then looked back up at him.  “Fire.  Somebody was getting a real ass-kicking, sir.  Whole planets were under attack by synthetics- machines.  It’s too disjointed to make any sense of it.”  Shepard paused, and said, slowly, “Nobody knows what happened to the Protheans, how they died out.  Do they?”

“No, they do not.  And it’s likely that whatever information you got, Saren has as well.”  He shook his head.  “He didn’t take the beacon with him.  I doubt it’s because he couldn’t make it work.  It’s because he got what he needed.  Damn it.  But why?  What’s so important about this information?” 

She watched him pace for another minute, chewing things over.  Finally, he said, “The Council needs to know about this.”

“What, all of it?”  Shepard was surprised.  “They’ll think I’m out of my mind.”

“It’s another piece of the puzzle.  Evidence towards what Saren wants, and what he’s planning.”  He folded his arms.  “I’ve arranged for us to travel to the Citadel.  Joker should be approaching now.  Walk up to the bridge and tell him to initiate docking protocols.  Then go and get yourself ready to meet with the ambassador.”

She didn’t like it, but recognized an order when she heard one.  “Yes, sir.”

He paused at the door.  “Oh, and one other thing.  I’ve had Williams transferred to the _Normandy_.  We can use someone with her courage.”

“Respectfully, sir, I don’t want her on my ship.”  Shepard gave him a level look.  “She shouldn’t be near active duty at the very least until she’s had a psych eval.  The entire 212th Division was just destroyed in front of her by monsters out of childhood stories.”

“I seem to remember another bright young woman who damn near mutinied when her C.O. suggested the exact same thing following a similar incident,” Anderson replied, with irony but very little humor.  “Alenko recommended the transfer and he’s got solid judgment, and the marines are his purview.  Anyway, it’s _my_ ship, and it’s done.  If it becomes a problem you’ll deal with it later.”

Anderson nodded, and left her standing alone in the infirmary.  She tried a shaky step, and found it wasn’t as hard as she thought.  Either the meds or her brain was sorting itself back out. 

She tagged the touchpad to open the hatch and nearly collided with Alenko.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said.  “I just saw the captain leave, and I left my book.” 

He nodded to the other end of the room.  Shepard looked at the paperback, and looked back at him, connecting for the first time that he must have sat there the whole fifteen hours, and this was after a grueling mission that exhausted the lot of them.  It left her with a warm rush of affection for him.  Not many people would have cared enough.  Anderson sure hadn’t.  “How are you holding up?”

“You’re asking me?”  His turn to be surprised.

“It couldn’t have been easy for you either,” she hazarded.  “Losing Jenkins and all.”

Shepard regretted it as soon as she said it, because it suggested Jenkins’ death had not been particularly hard on her, which was the truth.  But Alenko just furrowed his brow and crossed his arms.  “Yeah.”  Then, abruptly, “This might sound odd, given everything, but that was the first time I’ve lost someone under my command.  And all those dead civilians… It’s going to take awhile to process.  I’m just glad we didn’t lose you too.”

That explained sitting by her bedside.  “It’s a club nobody wants to join.  Tell you what.  When we get to the Citadel, we’ll find a dive bar somewhere and raise a few glasses in his honor.”

“I think he’d like that.”

Shepard rubbed her head again.  “Council’s not going to be happy about any of this.”

“That’s for sure.  Probably try to use it to lever more concessions from the Alliance.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Politics.  What are you going to do?”

A snort of what might have been laughter.  “Spot on, I think.  Council politics are way above my paygrade, that’s for damn sure.”

He shrugged.  “Maybe not for long, if the captain has his way.”

“Scuttlebutt travels fast.”  She wasn’t entirely pleased to hear her spectre vetting had become public knowledge among the crew.

“That it does, ma’am.  Sometimes it’s better to keep some things to yourself.”

“That stuff you’ll tell me about someday.”  She couldn’t resist.

“That, yeah.”  He leaned against the doorway, his refusal still plain, but relaxed.  “Though I can’t see that having the spectres look you over is something to be ashamed of.”

The worst part of Akuze wasn’t the attack.  It was the circus that came after.  The medal ceremony.  The promotion.  The interviews.  All the accolades due a hero, simply for being too damn stubborn, tenacious, and lucky to die.  Trying to make sense of what had happened in private while playing the resilient bright-eyed toy soldier in public, undaunted, proud to serve.  The shining light at the end of the tragedy.   

This spectre thing had the same feel to it, like someone was seeing an opportunity they wanted or needed, rather than something she’d earned honestly.  Humanity wanted a spectre; she was in the right place at the right time, especially now, after the devastation of Eden Prime.  They needed a symbol, someone to carry the torch onward.  Just like damned Akuze. 

She gave him an even look.  “Some things I keep private, too.”

Alenko held up his hands.  “Fair enough.  Can I get my book now?”

“Right.  Sure.”  Shepard blinked and stepped out of the way.  She watched pick up the paperback and flex the pages to keep it closed.  “Maybe it’s unreasonable to be of two minds about it.  I just feel like the only reason they’re considering me at all is because I’m half-ghost.  The girl who walked out of a graveyard.  It’s nice PR.”

“I don’t know.  Not many people can claim that.  You could charge them to rub you for luck.” 

She stared at him the space of a startled moment, and then started to laugh.  He chuckled.  Shepard shook her head.  “I need to get to the bridge.  Apparently our pilot needs a little direction.”

  
Alenko nodded.  “See you later, ma’am.”

She walked away from the meeting a little lighter.  Or maybe it was just Chakwas’ magic pills finally kicking in.  Her head certainly hurt less.

Williams was sitting on the stairs up to the CIC, staring at her hands.  Shepard studied her a long moment, before the girl noticed.  The gunnery chief was a pretty thing, never an advantage in the military, and wore her long brown hair in a knot at the base of her skull.  She’d handled a rifle like a pro.  Infantry clearly suited her.  She still wore her armor, the customary white and red of colonial posts standing out against the somber navy blue of the ship, the helmet discarded beside her.

Shepard lounged against the wall, arms folded.  “We try not to block the stairwell around here, Chief.  Too many people coming back and forth.”

Williams started.  Shepard gave her an easy smile to calm her down, and gradually the girl settled back.  “Sorry, ma’am.  Haven’t got my billet yet.”

“Anderson can be a bit vague on details sometimes.  We’ll get you sorted out.”  She studied her face closely.  “How are you holding up?”

Williams picked up the helmet and turned it over in her hands.  “I’ve had friends die before, but my whole unit… there were so many dead down there.  I… honestly, ma’am, I haven’t seen much in the way of combat outside training exercises.  I’ve mostly had ground postings.”

Shepard tried for encouraging.  “You did well.  It won’t get better, but it will get easier.  I promise.” 

“You can’t promise that.”  Her head jerked up.  “When I think of them all, Donkey with his stupid magazines, Bhatia and her cooking…”

“Yesterday, when we were headed for the relay, I thought about how Park would always get sick every single time we made a jump, never failed.  It’s been almost six years.”

“You lost a unit, ma’am?”  Williams sounded doubtful, and Shepard found herself oddly bemused.  It was so rare to have to introduce herself to fellow marines these days.

“Yeah.  50 marines.  I was an L.T. then.  A colony completely dropped off the radar, suspected terrorist activity, so they sent in spec ops.  Never found any terrorists, or colonists for that matter, but a whole lot of thresher maws.”  After so much practice it was easy to keep her tone light, ignore the scent of mud and jungle rain that suddenly filled her nose.  “Didn’t even know what maws were at the time.  Hell of an introduction.”

“Holy shit.”  Williams was mortified.  “You’re THAT Shepard?  From Akuze?”

She didn’t bother to reply.  “C’mon.  Joker’s taking us into the nebula now.  I hear the view is not to be missed.”

Shepard held out her hand and hauled Williams to her feet.  They reached the bridge just in time to see the _Normandy_ dive into the petals of the giant station.  She glanced at Joker.  “The captain says we’re ready to dock.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”  Joker made a marginal adjustment to the pitch of the ship.

Williams all but pressed her nose to the glass.  “Wow.”

“Hard to believe it’s really that big.”  Shepard had only been to the Citadel a handful of times herself, and spent the approach below decks.  It really was spectacular.  The whole station was lily-shaped, pearly white on the outside and flecked with rosy orange lights and fixtures within.  

Clutched in its center, like a prized jewel, was the largest spaceship in the galaxy.

Williams was quick to spot it.  “What’s that?”

“The _Destiny Ascension_.”  Joker chuckled.  “Head of the Citadel Fleet.”

“It’s huge!  I bet it could rip through the hull of any ship in the Alliance.”

“Well, size isn’t everything.  You need firepower too.”  He winked at Shepard behind Williams’ back.

She rolled her eyes.  “I should knock that cap straight off your head.” 

Williams looked over her shoulder.  “What?”

“Nothing.”  Joker cleared his throat.  “Citadel Control, this is the _SSV Normandy_ , requesting permission to dock.”

“That’s our cue,” Shepard said, turning to leave the bridge.  She sized her up.  “Draven is about your size.”

“Huh?”  Williams trotted along behind her. 

“Anderson wants the ground team to be available to the ambassador.  Udina is putting together a case to present to the Council.  That means dress blues.”  She gave the chief a dry glance.  “Unless you’re hiding a uniform somewhere in that armor, I need to find you a set.”

Ten minutes later, they were both dressed and standing side-by-side in the women’s restroom aboard the _Normandy_.  Shepard was braiding her hair, into a spiral winding around the back of her head, a style called a conch shell.  It was somewhat more formal than her customary bun, and somewhat more interesting than simply pinning it back.  Her long red hair was her sole conceit; it would take a lot more work and a kind eye to make her pretty, but her hair could look nice.

Williams suffered from no such dilemma.  Shuffling in front of the sink, tugging on her makeshift uniform, freshly showered and pink-cheeked, she looked like a recruitment ad come to life.  Shepard was damn sure she never had to get _her_ dress blues tailored to fit correctly.  Like all infantry, Williams was fit, but she still filled it out in all the right places- quite unlike Shepard, who wouldn’t even have to wear a bra if it weren’t for regs.

She squashed the nascent tendril of jealousy and tucked away the end of her braid.  “Ready, chief?”

Williams bit her lip and glanced at Shepard sidelong.  “You don’t think Ambassador Udina will ask me any questions, do you?”

“He might.  That is why Anderson is bringing us along.”  Her brow furrowed.  “Is that a problem?”

She swallowed.  “No, ma’am.  I’m just not used to this kind of attention, is all.”

“Don’t over think it.  This is easy.”  Shepard’s mouth quirked at the corner.  “Just answer clearly and honestly, and let his twisty politician’s mind do all the translating to Council-speak.”

That got her a half a smile, and Joker’s voice crackled over the comm, in broadcast mode.  “Captain, docking procedures are complete.  The ambassador’s shuttle is waiting.”

Shepard smoothed her jacket one last time.  “Let’s go find out exactly what these Council bastards want.”


	7. Meet Garrus

The fun part was well and truly over.  The ambassador’s car waited at the Alliance dock to whisk them off to the central ring that formed the base of the massive station, where each of the arms attached.  They called it the Presidium.

The elite of the Citadel lived in a garden-world environment, complete with a ring-shaped lake and a holographic sky.  Here, every day was sunny and warm.  As the car zipped over the azure water, it was hard for Shepard to remember the hazy, fire-strewn carnage of Eden Prime.  The memories ran together with all the other battlefields, washed away in the rushing of the air and the calm of the district.  This was a place where the very concept of war felt impossible.

Anderson spent the whole ride with his hands folded in his lap, staring stonily at nothing at all.  Shepard slouched so far down in her seat that the top of her skull was level with the bottom of the headrest, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes half-lidded.  Her head throbbed, a love note from her concussion.  Williams fiddled with her uniform until Shepard was certain the piping would tear loose.  Alenko, for his part, had his nose glued to the window, admiring the scenery.  He had a natural curiosity as innocent and unfeigned as a child’s.

Upon arrival their party of four was hustled straight up to the offices of Ambassador Udina, who had a voice like a bulldog and a face perpetually lemon-bit.  His suit was expensively tailored and what hair he possessed immaculately groomed.  He also had an apparent talent for pissing off the Council.  They walked in just as he was finishing a call.

“We will not discuss this here, Udina,” the turian councilor chided, with a hint of anger.  “This is for the hearing and not before.”

Udina might have tried for a last word, but at that moment the Council cut the call.  So instead he spun on his heel and spared no time informing them of their inconvenience, turning his rage on Anderson.  “Captain.  I see you brought half your crew with you.”

“Just the ground team from Eden Prime,” Anderson replied coolly.  “I thought they might be needed to answer some questions.”

Udina looked down his long nose at the three marines.  It was an impressive feat considering the ambassador was a rather short man, and would have remained so even if Shepard weren’t an exceptionally tall woman.  She stared him down, and was mildly impressed when he didn’t blink. 

Udina wrinkled his nose.  ”I see.  And what have you been up to, Anderson?  I hear reports of geth, and dead spectres.” 

“Saren shot Nihlus.”  Shepard was frank, and firm.  “He’s the one who brought geth to Eden Prime.”

“So you say.  And I suppose he managed to destroy the beacon as well?”  Udina dripped with sarcasm.

Anderson, however, was sharp.  “The beacon’s loss was unfortunate, but impossible to foresee.”

“Your hamfistedness cost us Eden Prime, allowed a traitor to escape, and led to the death of the one of the few who could have given us our first human spectre.”  His stared piercingly at Shepard, stroking his chin, before sliding his gaze back to the captain.  “You of all people should know better than to meddle with spectres, Anderson.  It was bad enough that she’s your protégé.”

“And where were you twenty years ago, ambassador? Aside from kissing the ass of any politician aboard Arcturus who stood still long enough for your lips to get a good grip?”

Udina’s face went purple.  Shepard took a step forward, subtly insinuating herself between the two men.  “What are the councilors looking for, exactly?”

“Hrm.  Proof.”  Udina’s lips thinned.  “They don’t make up their minds quickly- that would be the asari influence- and they don’t play hunches.”

She lifted her chin and folded her arms.  “So how do we find them proof?”

Anderson glanced at her.  “While you were knocked out, I sent ahead our reports about the attack.  Citadel Security initiated an investigation into our claims about Saren.”

“Sounds like you got an audience, anyway.”  She glanced at Udina.

“We will present our case against, hrm, Mr. Arterius, as will C-Sec.  If we can get his spectre status revoked it will help immensely in the search for this fugitive.”  Udina cleared his throat.  “Unfortunately, their word will carry more weight than ours.  Citadel Security is well-regarded here and they’re full of turians.”

These days every human schoolchild knew the Citadel was built by the Protheans and discovered by the asari in pre-historic times.  The Council was founded by asari and salarians, and the turians were invited to join their ranks after proving their commitment to galactic freedom during the Rachni Wars- universally events that occurred while humans were still debating the basics of cosmology, such as whether the Earth revolved about the sun. 

Humanity, far from being the masters of the universe imagined in earlier times, was afforded a single spacious office aboard the Citadel for a lone ambassador with no authority, persuasion and access his only tools, like the other lesser races before them.  Their second-class citizen status was a given.  As far as the rest of the galaxy was concerned it wasn’t even scandalous.

Non-participation was not an option.  Anyone who might think otherwise need look no further than the batarians, who opted out voluntarily in a fit of spite over a ruling on Traverse settlement in humanity’s favor.  Now the Hegemony might as well be the Terminus for all the safety or law that ruled there, and their economy went into freefall without ties to galactic commerce- a second hammer blow to their worlds.  Or perhaps the quarians, whose embassy was expelled in punishment for the creation of the geth, and who remained galactic vagrants with no home and even less respect three centuries later.  Council politics were merciless.

In her more charitable moments, Shepard sometimes thought it was a small wonder humans were considered a rogue element.  They possessed a militant heritage the equal of the turians, with none of their reverence for authority.  They practiced diplomacy by political machinations without any of the asari’s inherent respect for the process or their allies.  And if they couldn’t match the salarian’s technical prowess, they could certainly equal their enthusiasm for progress, often at the expense of wisdom. 

Humanity was seen as volatile, arrogant, and juvenile.  And they were gobbling up open territory in the galaxy huge swaths at a time.

Watching Udina rant and scowl now, Shepard was certain he had done little to impress any other reputation on their alien allies.

Anderson set his jaw.  “C-Sec is charged with upholding the law, regardless of stature or species.  They’ll do their job.”

“You don’t seriously believe that.”  Udina snorted.  “I’ve been on this Citadel nearly since we learned of its existence.  The Council makes a good show of respecting every species, but make no mistake.  This is a clique, Captain, and humanity is on the outside looking in.”

“The facts are on our side.”  Anderson was concerned, but unruffled.  This wasn’t his first battle.  “It will have to be enough.”

“Hrmph.”  The ambassador turned his attention back to Shepard, with that same piercing glare.  “A spectre’s weight could have helped us considerably.  A shame.”

She opened her mouth, but Anderson got there first.  “She’s not out of the running yet.  We just have to make our case.”

“Yes.  Well, we will certainly do our best.  Eden Prime demands answers.”  Udina straightened his jacket.  “Captain, I need to review a few details with you before the hearing, and I need to get guest clearances in place for your, ah, colleagues.”

It wasn’t a request.  Anderson turned to his crew.  “Go enjoy the Presidium.  I’ll contact you via omni-tool when the proceedings are about to begin.”

“Yes, sir.”  They soon found themselves on the other side of Udina’s locked door.

Shepard sagged against the wall and pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Why do I get the feeling he’s going to be a continual problem?”

“Because he’s a politician?” Alenko suggested, unhelpfully.

“They’re all worthless,” Williams spat.  “Still, one of their people is dead, and that’s got to rankle.”

Shepard knew it was the appropriate moment to say that Nihlus was a good man, but hell, she didn’t know.  He’d been a pain in her ass for the two days she knew him.  She wasn’t much for deifying the dead.  Jenkins was the same way.  A good kid, though she couldn’t in honesty call him a good marine- but he’d literally died trying, Shepard would give him that much.  She could pawn the letter off on Anderson as the C.O. of the ship, but she was on the ground with him, and it ought to be her.  Damn it.

She pushed herself off the wall and blew out a breath.  “Well, looks like we’ve got some time on our hands.  Let’s figure out what makes this place one of the wonders of the galaxy.”

The ramps took them out to the lowest level of the Presidium, where broad boulevards overlooked the water.  “I wonder if it’s a sign of favor or insignificance that our embassy is so close to the lake?” 

“Insignificance, definitely.”  Alenko sounded certain.

She raised an eyebrow.  “What makes you so sure?”

He shrugged.  “I have some friends who live on the Citadel.  Property values are steeper the higher you go, when it comes to the Presidium.”

“You’ve been here before, L.T.?”  Williams was curious.

“The Citadel, sure.”  Another shrug.  “The Presidium, no.  Believe it or not, it’s heavily access-controlled.”

“It’d be a shame if the cream had to mix with the rabble, huh?” Shepard observed dryly.

“I don’t know.  This is home to some of the most powerful people in the galaxy.  People like that make enemies, and when they fall they do a lot of collateral damage in the process.”  Alenko was peering up now, at the rows upon rows of balconies clinging like nests to the cylindrical wall. 

Williams crossed her arms, her contempt clear.  “What, they may be evil little bastards, but since it’d be chaos otherwise, they should be protected?”

“Pretty much.  You have to weigh it against all the innocent people who’d get hurt.”  He stuck his hands in his pockets.  “Sure is a pretty place, though.”

The three marines made their way along the street, heading lengthwise down the ring.  Every so often they passed a side corridor vanishing into the recesses of the station.  Most of the population lived aboard the five arms, called wards, and each ward was hinged to the Presidium ring, curving around a fifth of it. 

There weren’t many pedestrians this time of day, and those that were out and about set a leisurely pace.  They were forced to walk slowly.  Shepard said, “I’m surprised there are so many humans.”

“Makes sense.  We’re near the Alliance dock.”  Alenko tried not to stare as a salarian swathed in robes shuffled by, head bobbing under his or her hood.  “Plenty of aliens, too.”

Chief Williams made a sound in the back of her throat, an ugly sort of laugh.  “It’s hard to tell the aliens from the animals.”

Shepard and Alenko exchanged a startled did-you-just-hear-that look.  In truth, it wasn’t any worse than a thousand other remarks that peppered the dialogue of the Alliance navy, particularly in the enlisted ranks.  But it was another thing altogether to hear it in the heart of the Citadel, in hearing range of the same aliens she disparaged. 

“We’re not exactly shooting the breeze in the duty locker, Chief,” Shepard finally said, lightly enough, but it was impossible to mistake her meaning.

“Yeah.”  She scuffed her boot on the street with too much force to be accident.

“Yeah _what_?” Shepard asked sharply.

Williams cleared her throat.  “Yes, ma’am.  Sorry, ma’am.  The war’s a bit of a sore spot with my family, is all.”

“Join the club.”

“Your family fought in the war?”  Her interest was piqued.

Shepard held up two fingers.  “Both my parents fought in the liberation of Shanxi.  Left me stuffing myself on tamales at my grandmother’s house back on Earth.  I don’t think I even knew what was happening until it was already over.”

“I bet they were both officers, too.” 

There was an edge to that comment Shepard didn’t quite grasp.  “No, actually.  My mother’s the officer.  X.O. aboard the _Kilimanjaro._  My father was a deck chief aboard a carrier.”

That set Williams back on her heels. “I’m sorry, ma’am.  These things just usually run in families, that’s all.  It’s who you know, right?”

“My dad resigned under less than ideal circumstances,” Alenko said mildly.  “They still gave me a commission.  What’s your problem, anyway?”

“No problem, sir.”  Williams grit her teeth.  “With your permission, ma’am, I think I’m going to clear my head awhile.”  
  
“Granted,” Shepard said immediately, and watched the young woman stride away, tension in every line of her body.  “The hell was that about?”

Alenko shrugged.  “You got me.  She seems to have quite a chip on her shoulder, and she’s been through a lot the last few days.”

“As long as she doesn’t start any fights while we’re on the station, I guess I can live with it.”  Shepard shook her head.  “By the way, I meant to tell you- nice job on the ground.  I’ve never had the opportunity to fight alongside a biotic before.  I can see why the Alliance goes to such lengths to recruit you.”

The enlistment bonuses for biotic-talented recruits had become legendary in the navy.  The ability occurred at a low rate to begin with, and not very many human biotics were old enough to sign up, much less interested in doing so.  Before eezo there were no biotics, and the general population still didn’t know what to make of them.  They tended to keep to themselves.  But biotic talent, the ability to create and manipulate mass effect fields using one’s nervous system, was a game-changer in combat situations and highly sought after by the military.

His smile was forced, uncomfortable.  “The incentives weren’t why I joined up, but thanks all the same.”

“I’d like the chance to practice against you sometime, when we’re back on the ship.  I don’t know if geth have a turn for biotics or not, but plenty of aliens sure do, and I could use the experience.”

“If it’s all the same to you, ma’am, I’d rather not.”  His tone was polite, but final.

Shepard was surprised.  “Why not?  I’m sure we can find the space.”

“I don’t like using my abilities against living targets when I can help it.  It’s playing with fire.”  He folded his arms. 

She blinked.  “Surely you need the practice, too.  It’s hard to stay combat-ready any other way.  If I were you, I’d want to make certain every tool in my box was sharp.”

“You’re not me,” Alenko said with sharp exasperation.  “Look, that scholarship I told you about?  I got it because it turns out it’s pretty unethical to shove untested tech into teenagers’ brains, or teach a thirteen-year-old kid to slam another kid into a wall, even under the guise of ‘exploring the potential of human biotics’ or ‘teaching us to control our gifts’, and taking it was better than dragging my family through a lawsuit we wouldn’t win anyway.  It leaves a bad taste in the mouth, you know?”

She was taken aback.  It explained his age, at least.  He had to be one of the oldest human biotics.  “I didn’t know.”   


“I don’t like talking about it.”

“Understandable.”  They walked in silence a few minutes.  Alenko studied the lake.  Shepard was thinking furiously.   

After awhile, she said, slowly, “We get taught a lot about how to fire a gun, how to hold it and maintain it use it properly.  But at first we don’t get taught a lot about why to fire- when ordered, that’s what we’re told.  And at first it’s enough.  Later though, those are the situations that haunt you, in your bunk after a mission when you try to sleep.  Those times when you have a choice that must be made, and there’s nobody there to give an order.”

“This is what I’m saying.  I’ve… had too many of those nights.”

Shepard nodded, sympathetic.  “Me too.  But sometimes, it was the right choice to discharge my weapon.  Sometimes, it was the only choice.  And I’m damn glad I knew how to do it, and do it well, without hesitation.”

His brow furrowed, and his expression changed from defensive to more thoughtful.  She put her hand on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry I made the request so lightly.  I won’t do it again.  But think about it, maybe?  I was serious about needing the practice.  It seems like everyone out there is better at this biotics stuff than us, and not all of them are friendlies.”

“I... I’ll think about it, ma’am.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”  She paused in her step as her omni-tool lit up.

Alenko peered at it.  “Is it time?”

“No.  It’s a summons from C-Sec.”  Her brow furrowed.

“You were the only one who didn’t send a report over,” Alenko reasoned.  She hadn’t had time to write one.  “Maybe they want to interview you, as evidence.”

“Maybe.”  The explanation was plausible, but it didn’t match the feeling in her gut.  “I’m going to see what they want.  You’ll be here?”

“Until they call for us, yeah.”

Shepard spotted the sign directing her to C-Sec HQ illuminated against the wall, and was already moving when she returned C-Sec’s call.  “This is Commander Shepard.”

The faint growling voice of a turian greeted her.  “Commander,” it purred.  “I’m glad I was able to reach you before the hearing.  Can you meet me, briefly, right away?”

“What’s this about?”

“I’d rather not say over an unsecure link.  There’s a tea shop not far from Udina’s office.  I’ll meet you there.”  The call cut off.

“It never rains but it pours,” Shepard muttered, but she backtracked to the ambassador’s office and found the shop in short order. 

The place had a slightly bohemian feel, in an upscale way.  It was mid-morning.  The café was half-full of sleepy late risers and uptight Citadel support staff, busily talking into their omni-tools and ignoring the uniformed man in the corner, quietly sipping at a mug while his eyes swept the entire shop at regular intervals.

He saw her when she pushed through the curtain over the door, and waved her over with a bony hand.  “Commander.”

“I assumed you’d want to speak with me eventually,” she said, taking a seat.  “I never imagined it would be so informal.”

That almost elicited a smile.  “Yes.  Circumstances are evolving rapidly.  Council affairs are like oil- thick and viscous and barely mobile when things get started, but once it heats up…”

“I see.”  A server swooped down on their table, and Shepard ordered the first thing she spotted on the levo side of the menu, some kind of green tea from asari space.  She might be spec ops, but she never had any patience for cloak-and-dagger bullshit.  Action was preferable to what amounted to an international rumor mill.  “Who are you and what do you want?”

“My name is Garrus Vakarian,” the turian said.  “I’m the officer at C-Sec assigned to oversee the Saren Arterius investigation.  I don’t have access to all the data- as a spectre most of his work is classified well above my supposed need-to-know- but what I have found is troubling, to say the least.”

“So you believe us.”  That was an unexpected surprise.

“Let’s say I’m willing to buy your arguments for the moment.”  His mandibles flared.  His face was painted with blue geometric stripes Shepard knew represented an individual’s place of birth, but she couldn’t have said which one.  He spoke the Palaven dialect perfectly- Shepard barely needed her translator.  “Unfortunately, the executor disagrees with my findings.  Saren is a very influential figure aboard the Citadel.  Rebranding him as a traitor is problematic.  I’ve been ordered to close my investigation.”

“What, they’re going to simply ignore the findings?”  Shepard was flabbergasted.  “What was the point of involving C-Sec as a neutral body?”

“First lesson of Citadel politics.  Nobody is neutral.”  This was uttered in the tones of a world-class cynic.  “Anyway, right now the evidence is inconclusive.  The executor fears it will become… more conclusive, if my work continues.”

She shook her head.  “Why tell me this?”

“Because I think I can trust you.”  He sat back and picked up his mug, took a sip.  “I don’t know if you’re aware, but you’ve been under C-Sec investigation for years.  We’ve got a whole directory on you.  Nihlus made it clear he wanted an airtight case for your spectre candidacy prepared before he undertook field tests.  From what I’ve seen, you do the right thing, if sometimes in your own way.  I can respect that.”

The server returned, bearing a steaming cup, and set it down in front of Shepard.  A pointed look forestalled any hovering questions of could she get her anything else.  She turned back to Vakarian.  “The Alliance doesn’t like that streak in me, you know.  They don’t appreciate their orders being subject to creative interpretation.”

“Neither does the Hierarchy.  But the spectres, well, that’s rather what they look for.  Initiative, sound judgment, a dash of insanity.  You were handpicked by an experienced spectre from literally hundreds of candidates, most of them not human.  Take that for what it’s worth.”

“Huh.”  Shepard tried the tea.  It had a pleasant citrus aftertaste.  “If Nihlus explained it like that, I might have been more enthused about the position.”

That got a laugh.  She found herself warming to this C-Sec officer, strange and off regs as the meeting was.  “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to keep looking into Saren.  Off-record, obviously.  And you have a hearing to get to.”

Almost on cue, her omni-tool lit up with Anderson’s code.  “Damn it.”

She punched the button and went through thirty seconds of conversation, confirming the Council was ready to receive them.  By the time she looked up, Vakarian was gone.


	8. Saren Fools the Council

Her two marines apparently got the message, because Shepard found them both waiting near the elevator up the Presidium tower.  “We should head up.”

“Right,” Alenko said, tearing his gaze away from a very strange-looking alien repairing a terminal along the boulevard.  It crouched on four insectile legs, the head snaking up from a bulbous body and crowned with two wide, black eyes.  Delicate green hands manipulated the haptic interface with the ease of a master, but there was something off about the creature.  Like nobody was home despite the obvious intellect.

“The hell is that?” she asked.

Chief Williams snorted, crossing her arms.  “That asari VI called it a ‘keeper’ when the L.T. got too close.  Apparently, they’re critical to station operations and interfering with them or their work is subject to strict penalties.”

“I’ve heard of them, but never seen one up close,” Alenko added.  “They burrow into parts of the station even the Council can’t access.  The asari say the keepers were already here when they found the station thousands of years ago.  They could date all the way back to the Protheans themselves.”

“Maybe they bred them for maintenance,” Williams hazarded.

The creature kept at its work, oblivious to the conversation.  Shepard wasn’t easily unnerved, but its passive, unblinking stare into the depths of the terminal gave her goosebumps.  “Are they self-aware?”

“Not as far as anyone can tell,” he said.

“They give me the creeps.”  Williams shuddered. 

Alenko flushed.  “I just find them interesting, that’s all.”

“I get the impression there’s very little you don’t find interesting, Lieutenant,” Shepard said, her mouth quirking at the corner.

“Well, why join up if you’re not interested in seeing the galaxy, right?  There’s so much out there we don’t know anything about.”

“Oh, I don’t know, sir.”  Williams’ sarcasm was plain.  “Tradition, loyalty, protecting humanity…”

Shepard shut it down before it could turn into an argument.  “Enough.  The captain’s waiting on us.”

They found the elevator, and submitted to a VI scan before being permitted to ascend to the council chamber on the highest level of the presidium tower.  The VI seemed startled that the three humans cleared its security protocols, if one could ascribe an emotion to a VI.  Apparently the audience Udina wrangled for their cause was unusual. 

They rode up in a tense silence.  The elevator took them to the exact center of the Presidium ring, the transition from centripetal to artificial gravity stomach-churning, and then further up along the axis of Citadel rotation.  The Tower was a spindle about which the cylinder turned.

After a small eternity, the doors opened onto an enormous, vaulting chamber, filled with the murmur of fountains and hushed conversations.  Shepard was startled by how dark it was, almost too dim to see clearly, and wondered if asari vision was tuned to a different part of the spectrum than human eyes.  It lent the room an ominous feel.

Nonetheless, trees, bushes, and even a smattering of flowers flourished in the weak light.  Through the breaks in the canopy, Shepard could see balconies and alcoves clinging to the walls above.  The path they followed up to the audience chamber proper wound through the gardens, with benches cleverly positioned every so often along the way to allow for respite and impromptu meetings among the various dignitaries of the Citadel. 

“I like it,” Alenko said, as they passed by a fountain with an almost Italian feel.  “It’s very soothing up here.  Peaceful.”

“Right now, sure, but check out these stairs.”  Williams pointed.  “These are great defensive positions.  Anyone planning to storm the Council is in for a rough time.”

He glanced at her.  “I don’t know who would be foolish enough to try.  They’ve have to get through the Citadel defenses first, and I don’t think anyone’s ever made it past, not once in almost three thousand years.”

She nodded, acknowledging the point. 

Shepard shook her head.  She wasn’t much for parade garbage even when her nerves weren’t wound up tighter than a fifty-pound spring.  “It’s lovely to look at, but this is so ostentatious.  Almost like they’re trying to impress or intimidate the hell out of anyone long before they meet the actual members of the Council.”

At last, the final staircase came into view, with Captain Anderson pacing restlessly before it.

“You’re late,” he said, without preamble.  “The ambassador’s already with the Council.  Come on.”

They hurried after him.  Udina’s strident voice reached them long before they got to the top of the stair.  “This Council cannot allow the attack against Eden Prime, against humanity, to stand unopposed and uncensured!”

“You do not instruct this Council, Ambassador Udina.”  The asari councilor’s lips thinned into a sharp line.  “As you have been reminded twice today already.”

Unlike the ambassador, she spoke Vinassi, a tongue from Thessia and the de facto diplomatic language throughout Council space.  Udina had to lose some face using English here, forcing everyone to rely on their translators.  It was gauche.  But then, Shepard supposed Udina had never been in a situation where his translator was disabled or jammed, and his life depended on actual linguistic skill.

Udina calmed himself, but lost no resolve.  “You have the evidence sitting before you.  Saren is guilty of this most heinous crime.  He is sworn to protect the galaxy, yet he brings an illegal AI army down upon our very soil?”

The ambassador was pointing now, to emphasize his point, up to a high platform at the Council’s right.  Shepard followed his finger and, with a sinking heart, saw a larger-than-life holocomm of Saren Arterius glaring down at the assembly.  Her eyes briefly met Anderson’s.  Clearly, this was unanticipated.

“The C-Sec findings were inconclusive,” Councilor Tevos continued with fading patience. 

“You have eyewitness testimony that Saren shot Nihlus in the back of the head,” Udina argued.

“Yes.”  The turian councilor’s voice was very dry, a difficult feat given the lilting cadence of Vinassi.  “I don’t think the testimony of a terrorized dock worker, who is evidently also a thief, holds much weight against the word of a spectre.”

“Why would I have shot Nihlus?” Saren interjected.  “We do the same work, and moreover, Nihlus was my protégé years ago, and a friend.  Your argument is senseless.  The geth surely have their own reasons for wanting the Prothean communications device.”

Shepard figured if Saren could interrupt the proceedings, so could she.  She stepped forward without hesitation.  She did know the language, and used it now, so there was no possibility any of them could mistake her meaning.  “We never mentioned what the artifact did.  How could you know unless you were there?”

Saren stared at her with open contempt.  “You must be Commander Shepard.  Impulsive, like all of your kind.  No, Commander, I know the nature of the beacon you so conveniently destroyed because Nihlus’ case files passed to me upon his death.  I read the reports from Eden Prime.”

“The beacon blew up on its own,” she shot back, tightly.  The words _your kind_ in Saren’s mouth sounded uglier than most curses.

“Because you couldn’t resist the urge to play with it.”  Saren sneered.  “Monkeys, all of you.  Humanity’s not ready to join the Council.  You’re not even ready to join the spectres.”

Udina slammed his hand on the banister.  “That’s not his decision!”

“The matter of Shepard’s induction to the ranks of the spectres is not material to this hearing,” Tevos replied mildly.  “If this is all the evidence you have to present-“

“Wait,” Anderson said.  Shepard threw him a desperate look, knowing exactly what he had in mind and exactly how unbalanced it would make her appear.

Saren focused on him like a laser. 

“Anderson,” he hissed.  “I might have known you’d be involved when humans attempt to slander me.”

Udina grimaced.  Shepard was merely confused.  Behind her, Williams and Alenko shuffled, equally baffled.  Tevos, however, ignored the jibe.  “You have something further to add, Captain?”

“Yes.”  He cleared his throat.  “There is the matter of Commander Shepard’s vision.”

“Am I expected to defend myself against dreams, now?”  Saren laughed, but there was no humor in it.  His beady eyes bore through Shepard, the sheer magnitude of his hatred making her skin crawl, but she didn’t let it show on her face.

“Calm yourself, Spectre Arterius.”  The asari’s gaze returned to Anderson.  “Captain, I’m sure you can appreciate that we cannot admit testimony of this nature into these proceedings.”

“This wasn’t a fever dream.  This is data from the Prothean beacon, imprinted upon the commander’s mind.  It was a warning.  We would be wise to heed it.”

“A warning.”  Sparatus, the turian councilor, looked dubious.  “Against what?  Commander?”

Shepard cleared her throat.  Her voice sounded loud in the room.  “I don’t know, sir.  The Protheans were… under attack.  Entire worlds were falling to this… enemy.  It’s all a jumble.”

He made a kind of dismissive noise, shaking his head at Tevos.  She nodded, the slightest of movements, and glanced at the salarian councilor, who likewise demurred.  It was obvious that they’d worked together a long time, probably long enough to agree on nearly everything.  “Commander, do you have anything further to add?”

“No.”  Shepard only just kept herself from spitting the words.  “It’s clear you’ve already made up your minds.”

“Very well.  This Council finds there is not sufficient evidence to merit further investigation.  Your request to have Saren Arterius barred from the spectres is denied.  The subject of Commander Shepard’s status will be raised at a future hearing.”  She entered a command into her terminal.  “These proceedings are closed.”

“I’m pleased to see that justice was served,” Saren said, supercilious. 

Shepard’s glare as he disconnected was solid ice, but she held her tongue.  The Council was sufficiently annoyed with them already.  Anderson put his hand on her shoulder.  “We need to regroup.”

“Sir-“

“Not here.”  He motioned towards the end of the platform.  The four Alliance, accompanied by Ambassador Udina, made their way to one of the alcoves Shepard passed earlier.  She sank down on the bench and massaged her temples- if her head hurt before, it was positively throbbing now- while Udina laid into Anderson.

“This is your fault.”  When Udina frowned, his whole body joined in, eyebrows angled, shoulders back, foot tapping the ground.  “I never should have allowed you into this audience.  Your history with Saren tainted everything.”

“That was twenty years ago,” Anderson said, but there was no fight in his words.  He looked defeated.

Alenko’s brow furrowed.  “What happened twenty years ago?”

Anderson sighed, folding his arms over his chest.  “Saren and I were on a joint mission, to investigate a terrorist threat in the Skyllian Verge.  It went bad- real bad.  There were a lot of casualties, and most of them unnecessary.  He set it up to look like my mistake.”

“The Council upheld Saren’s actions,” Udina stated stiffly.

“I know you and I don’t always see eye-to-eye, ambassador.”  Anderson jabbed his finger towards the shorter man.  “But you’ve been around.  You know what Saren is.  He’s vicious.  Sometimes casualties are unavoidable, but he doesn’t even try.  He likes the violence and the killing.  Saren’s exactly the kind of recruit who looks like a model soldier at first, but gets Cat 6’d inside five years.  If he doesn’t end up in the brig first.”

Williams scowled.  “Hard to see how a bastard like that winds up as a spectre, sir.”

“Can everyone just shut up for a minute?” 

Everyone turned to stare at Shepard.  She pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Look, the history lesson is lovely, but we need to focus.  Chief, the whole point of the spectres is that they’re a shadow operation.  It’s pretty clear the Council uses them to circumvent their own laws.  That’s practically Saren’s M.O.  Ambassador- I know we’re not giving you the best material to work with, but it’s your job to make the Council help us.  We need you to keep working all the angles.”

Udina pursed his lips.  “And what, exactly, will you be doing, Commander?”

She met his glare steadily.  “We are going to find you the evidence you need to knock Saren’s pointy ass the hell out of the spectre ranks.  The more you can do to soften the ground, the easier it’ll be.”

“You’re not familiar with the Citadel or C-Sec.”  The ambassador snorted.  “You can’t have the faintest idea where to start.”

Shepard didn’t miss a beat.  “Then I’ll ask someone who does.  Garrus Vakarian is the C-Sec officer in charge of this investigation.  He has doubts regarding Saren’s innocence.”

Anderson stroked his chin.  “There’s not even a small chance C-Sec is going to allow you to see him, if you waltz into their office and ask.”

“Harkin,” the ambassador said suddenly.  “He knows everything that moves in C-Sec.”

“No good.  He got thrown out a month ago.”  Captain Anderson didn’t veil his disgust.  “Drinking on the job, and that was just his latest offense.  Drugs, getting aggressive with detainees, bribery, you name it.”

“Guys like that are like roaches,” Alenko reasoned.  “They survive by knowing every nook and cranny of their environment, and they never let their information get out of date.  I bet he’ll still have a good idea where to find your C-Sec detective, Commander.”

“Find Harkin and we find Vakarian.  It beats no plan at all.”  Shepard stood.  “And it’s not too hard to guess where a drunken washed-up cop might choose to spend his time.”

Udina wrinkled his nose as if such notions were beneath him.  “I’ve got a mess to clean up.  If you’ll excuse me.”

They watched him stalk away, before Shepard turned to Anderson and sighed.  “Sir, you know how much I respect you, but you should have told us about your history with Saren before the hearing.”

He didn’t deny it.  “I know Saren.  This attack is just the beginning.  He wants to exterminate us, and I don’t trust Udina to understand that.  Without the Council’s acknowledgment of his actions, not even Earth will be safe.”

“Do we really need the Council?”  Williams wondered.  “I mean, we’re still sovereign in Alliance space.  Why can’t we go after Saren on our own?”

“It’s not that simple.”  Anderson shook his head.  “We don’t have the military might to defy the Council and withstand their reprisal.  Just look at what’s happened to the batarians.  But we also have something the Council wants- a thirst to expand, even into unstable regions they’ve long wanted brought to heel.  It’s a delicate dance of power.  We can’t upset it, but we can’t allow Saren’s attack to stand, either.”

Shepard had all the political analysis she could stand for one day.  “It’s getting late.  I’m going to suggest we all get some sleep, and I’ll have my team tackle the Harkin problem first thing tomorrow.”

“I agree.  You’re free to duke it out on the _Normandy_ , or there’s bunk space available at the Alliance outpost near our dock.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Anderson grunted.  “As you were.”

He ambled off toward the elevator, while Shepard lowered herself back onto the bench and tilted her head back until she was staring at the ceiling.  “The dock worker had no reason to make that story up, and there’s no way he or the geth got the jump on a spectre.  It has to be Saren.”

“I caught a news vid while we were waiting,” Alenko said abruptly.  There was an uncustomary coldness in his tone.  “Current estimates place the initial death toll in the tens of thousands.  Homeless, maybe a hundred thousand.”

“Initial?”  Williams was confused.

“There’s still some of those… things loose.  The ones they made by spiking humans.  They’re calling them husks.”

“No excuse can justify this.”  At the time of the battle, Shepard was completely focused on completing her mission and the survival of her team.  As it sank in, however, her rage was growing, nursed in her belly like a bed of banked coals, hot and sullen.  “I don’t care who or what he is.  We’re going to nail Saren to the wall and god help anyone who tries to get in our way.”

Williams gave her a caricature of a grin.  “Ma’am, that’s an order I can gladly say I’ll follow.”

/\/\/\/\/\

When the clock rolled over to 0300, Gunnery Chief Ashley Madeline Williams, formerly a platoon guide of the 212th marine guard, currently assigned to the _SSV Normandy_ , running on six hours of sleep spread over the last two days, was hiding in a toilet in the Alliance barracks aboard the Citadel.

She had her knees drawn up to her chin to hide her feet from the gap under the stall door, the furthest from the entrance.  A few soldiers, half-asleep, had stumbled in to use the facilities over the course of the two hours she’d been there, but so far she remained undetected.  That was good.  Let everyone think she was sound asleep in her bunk.  God knew Shepard had all but fallen into hers.  Williams would swear she was out before her head hit the pillow.

It made her angry.  Williams was stationed on Eden Prime for nearly a year.  It was starting to feel like home.  She knew the local stores, the people who owned them.  She knew the kids who lived on base.  She drank in some of the same bars as those dockworkers whose bodies they stepped over so casually as they crossed the port.  Nobody should be able to sleep right now.  The world shouldn’t just keep on going.  The only backup they received- the only help the Alliance could be bothered to send, two measly marines off one damn frigate- shouldn’t be snoring in a rack like nothing ever happened.

Williams bit down on her hand to stifle a sob.  The images just wouldn’t stop coming, no matter how much will she exerted trying to shut them down.  There was so much fire the sky turned red, and the smoke rolled so thick around them that she could hardly make out her squad as they died all around her.  It blew up her nose, made her cough, and it carried a stench of blood so strong she retched.  Here and there geth lanterns lit the world like lighthouses, cutting through the fog, zeroing in on anything still moving.  She _crawled_ her way out, through the grass and bodies and parts of bodies, trying not to think too hard about how the muddy the ground became, or the nature of the warm mush that met her hand in the dark. 

A shudder ran through her as her back remembered the shots from the drones, _one two_ , hitting her as she finally got off her knees and ran.  They were twin bruises now, each as large as her spread hand and ugly as a tempest.  The way her heart stopped as the impact made her stumble, certain the next would come through her brains.  The adrenaline as hundreds of hours of drills bypassed her fear and took hold of her body, rolling her over and aiming her gun.  The drones peppered her face with shrapnel when they exploded, micro-cuts that stung in the shower earlier, and now, as the tears she was trying with all her might to suppress leaked out anyway.

“Stop it,” she whispered to herself, as if it would make any difference.  “Stop it- damn it.”

God, what would her father think if he could see her now?  He always praised her for being the bravest and steadiest of his brood of daughters.  She never cried at anything.  That was her place- to be the rock for her little sisters and later her mother, no matter what life threw at them, when her father couldn’t be there.  Even when he died she kept a firm grip on her grief, so they had someone to lean on. 

And now she was on the _Normandy_ , and could afford it even less.  Her first space posting, finally, and a far more bitter pill than she ever imagined.  She’d earned it twelve times over, she knew she had, but it took a tragedy and an absolute travesty to get anyone to notice.  It shouldn’t be like that. 

And even now the executive officer of her ship didn’t think she belonged, Williams saw it when the Shepard looked at her.  Confirmed it by her patronizing attempts to empathize.  Pity, mixed with a little confusion and a little exasperation, at having been saddled with the stupid groundside grunt on her elite warship.  Probably looked up her dossier first thing, saw the names, made the connections.  Just like everyone else.

And now what were they doing?  Cooling their heels, playing at galactic politics on a glacial Citadel schedule, while the man responsible for killing her squad mates and destroying her adopted home ran loose, plotting his next move. 

What if he hit another colony while they were sitting around?  What if Saren was gathering more allies and ships for his fleet?  Every moment they wasted here he got a little more ready.  And there was nothing Williams could do about it.

0330 now.  Soon, the barracks would start waking up.  The bathroom would be flooded with people waiting for the showers, getting ready for the day.  She knew she had to leave before that happened.  But she was exhausted, physically, emotionally, and her legs didn’t want to unfold and carry her out of there.  Her face wasn’t ready to erect the façade again, her mind unprepared to assume its armor. 

The thought came, fearful.  _I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up._

_But if I don’t, it’s all over.  I’ll be stuck groundside forever.  Hell- they’ll probably send me back to Earth and stick me in some office somewhere, where I won’t snap and get anyone hurt.  Shepard would probably give the order herself._

So Gunnery Chief Williams took a deep breath, set her feet on the floor, splashed some water on her face, and ventured out in search of a clean uniform.  Just like nothing ever happened at all.


	9. Rough Edges

Shepard’s boots slapped against the smooth, plasticky material that served as pavement in the Presidium.  She grew up on stations.  It was unusual for them to obey any planetside conventions like day or night, yet apparently it pleased these aliens to pretend their highbrow ring had a sun.  It was “dawn” now, the holographic sky tinged pink with scattered clouds.  Hardly anyone else was up and about.  That suited her just fine.  Fewer obstacles to her morning jog.

She liked to run.  It cleared her head, let her think.  Some days it was almost like a meditation.  This morning, it gave her a necessary silence and privacy for an unenviable task.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins,_

_My deepest condolences on the loss of your son…_

That was the way they always began.  It was a careful phrase, conveying the necessary sympathy while abrogating all responsibility.  _Condolences_ , as if she had nothing at all to do with it.

_...Corporal Richard L. Jenkins.  He was killed in action during the defense of Eden Prime from an attack of [redacted]._

Because they’d never let her say the word geth, never mind that every news network on a hundred systems was screaming it.

_Though only under my command a short time, I greatly admired your son’s…_

Shepard paused mid-step.  What was the proper word?  Enthusiasm?  No, that was too bright, too light.  Stamina?  That wasn’t really accurate.  Ah…

_…commitment to his calling and his fellow marines, as did everyone serving alongside him.  To the very last his loyalty to the Alliance stands as a testament to his character.  He died attempting to turn the tide against a terrible enemy, for the sake of the innocent citizens of one of our finest colonies and his own home._

She hated doing these things.  They went out of style in favor of visitations for a time, in the mid-twenty first century, but it was found that some surviving kin found the formality a comfort.  These days they did both.  Every time she had to write one, she felt like a fraud.  The words the letters should include but never did were _“I’m sorry.  We should have done more.”_ Prepared him more, watched him more, protected him more.  Why the hell had she put him on point, anyway?  Because she thought she could cover him better from the rear?  That turned out brilliantly.

_It is our hope that, in time, you will be left with pride in your son’s dedication and accomplishments.  Richard will be deeply missed by us all._

It was too bland.  They probably didn’t even call him Richard- it was hard to imagine that name on a kid.  Maybe Ricky.  Jenkins struck her as a Ricky.

She rounded a corner and side-skipped out of the way of a pair of highly confused turians.  She just hadn’t known Jenkins very long.  It was hard to fill the gaps with those important personal touches, what he liked to do, what was important in his life.  What his goddamn name was to people who knew him outside the military, where everyone was a surname.  Alenko would know, but she hated to ask, as hard as he was taking the loss. 

She didn’t quite know what to make of Alenko himself.  Off the battlefield he was calm, thoughtful, sometimes to the point of intensity, insatiably curious, and there was none of the cockiness Shepard would expect of a career marine.  Nothing about him suggested any talent for violence.  Yet he fought cleanly, expertly even, with professionalism rather than malice.  Even Williams’ jabs at his commitment didn’t get under his skin.  But Jenkins’ death was clearly still beating him up inside.  It was both confusing and admirable.

Her feet carried her back to where she started, the tunnel leading down to the pocket of the Citadel delegated for Alliance use, interrupting her thoughts.  Time for a quick shower to get the sweat off, then find Harkin.  Work never ended.

Thirty minutes later found her in front of a terminal in the small library gracing the outpost.  It was one of those times when she could see the appeal of becoming a spectre.  Somewhere, there had to be a database tabulating every registered resident aboard the Citadel, how to contact them, and where they lived.  Shepard didn’t have that.  She had a sorry collection of Alliance intel and public registries.  For the hell of it, because even bastards got lucky sometimes, she tried Vakarian first.  Not much came back.  The ident he’d used to call her yesterday led to the C-Sec switchboard.  On the extranet, she found an entry on the C-Sec staff list, a recent article about the black market trade in organs, and a personal extranet site hosting a rather bizarre collection of editorial rants and amateur philosophy.

Harkin, worm that he was, scoured his name from most of her databases, though she found plenty of news articles and vids discussing his many disgraces.  If anything Anderson lowballed it.  Harkin wouldn’t have lasted a week in her command, no matter who intervened.  Twenty years of this was inexcusable.

Shepard kept at it for several hours before throwing her datapad down in disgust, with only a handful of notes to show for it.  To the room at large, she said, “This man is a bloody awful ghost.”

“What’s that, ma’am?”  Williams came up behind her and lay a hand on the back of her chair.  “Someone told us you’d been holed up in here for ages.”

“For all the good it’s done me.”  She sat back and thumped the datapad again to indicate her lack of progress. 

Alenko, who followed Williams into the room, winced.  “You really shouldn’t do that.  That model breaks easy.  It’s got a subpar board made somewhere out in volus space-“

“You know,” Shepard said, “There are times when I wish for a good, old-fashioned notebook and pencil.”

He hid a smile by glancing away.  He had a nice smile, all warmth and understatement.  She found a similar expression tugging at her own mouth.

Williams, as usual, pressed the issue.  “So what now?”

“Now we do things the hard way.”  She stood and stretched.  “Suit up.  I don’t want to be caught with our asses hanging out if we run into trouble.”

It only took three tries to figure out the transportation system.  Citadel geography was nothing if not confusing, based on the centripetal gravity of the station, and the array of five long arms.  Shepard was determined to at least try getting through to C-Sec before beginning an exhaustive search on foot.  The Citadel Security Academy served both as a training ground for new recruits, and the headquarters for all C-Sec operations in Zakera Ward.  The marines attracted more than a few suspicious glances as they made their way to central processing.

“Can I help you?”  The asari manning the desk gave them a very flat look over the top of her terminal.  C-Sec uniforms weren’t all that different from Alliance digs, though they favored black and gray over blue.  Hers was crisply pressed, almost to a fault, and the insignia on her sleeve gleamed with polish. 

Shepard was direct, but courteous.  “We need to see Officer Vakarian at his earliest convenience.”

“I’m sorry, but our detectives don’t take orders from Alliance soldiers.”  Her polite smile had all the warmth of interstellar space.  “I can make an appointment, but we’re very busy people.  I’m sure you understand.”

“I have new information concerning his most recent investigation that I’ve been asked to pass along by my superiors.”  Less a white lie and more a spin on the truth.  Technically, the Council’s ruling was both new and relevant.

“If you’re referring to the investigation into Spectre Arterius’ activities, that file has been closed by direct order of the Executor.  We have no further need of far-fetched leads.”

Williams muttered something.  Shepard shot her a warning glance.  “If we could just leave him a message-“

“I’m sorry, but if you have no further business with C-Sec, I must ask you to step aside,” the asari interrupted, firmly.  “There’s a line forming.”

“Right.”  Shepard shoved away from the counter, not concealing her irritation very well.  The squad wandered out into the carport, away from the bustle of the office, while she fumed. 

“Well, that was useless,” Alenko observed at last.

“No shit.”  Shepard tapped her fingers against her pistol and tried to think of what to try next.  If she could avoid it, she really didn’t want to stumble from one seedy bar to the next searching for a drunk ex-cop, and she didn’t have the first idea where to start looking for Vakarian himself.  “Maybe we can-“

“Excuse me,” said a voice behind them.  “Are you… are you Commander Shepard?”

She turned, brow furrowed.  A hefty blonde kid in a C-Sec uniform stood in the middle of the lot, staring at her with a mix of excitement and awe.  She felt a blush creep up her neck.  _Oh god, not again._

“That’s me,” she answered tersely.  “What do you want?”

“Wow,” he enthused.  “I had no idea you were on the Citadel.  I saw the memorial on Akuze- they have a whole section on you.  It’s a miracle you were able to survive that.”

Alenko wasn’t quite able to swallow a laugh.  She gave him a death stare.  He cleared his throat.  “Looks like you have a fan, ma’am.”

“I’m Officer Lang.”  He held out his hand, which she shook.  “Sorry, you probably get this kind of thing a lot, but you’re a real inspiration to those of us fighting in the trenches.  What brings you to C-Sec?”

She started to make some vague excuse, but was suddenly struck by an idea.  “I’m looking for Officer Vakarian.  It’s critical to resolving what happened on Eden Prime, but C-Sec is blocking me.  I don’t suppose you could tell me how to get in touch?”

“Vakarian?  Name rings a bell.  Detective, right?”  Lang shook his head regretfully.  “Sorry, I can’t help you there.  I’m in enforcement.  We don’t cross paths with investigation that much.”

Well, it was worth a shot.  “Thanks, anyway.”

“What about a former officer named Harkin?” Alenko asked suddenly.  “We’ve been told he might be keeping tabs on Vakarian.”

“Harkin keeps tabs on everyone.”  Lang rolled his eyes, his contempt clear.  “He’s got his sticky fingers in every division.  If I had to guess, he’s holed up at that new club up in the ward, Chora’s Den.  Rumor had it he was tight with the owner right before his ass landed on the sidewalk.”

Shepard blinked.  “Thanks.  That’s actually very helpful.  Here I thought I was going to have to just start crashing clubs at random.”

“Anything to get those bastards who burned down Eden Prime.”  There was real rancor in his voice.

She raised an eyebrow.  “You’re from the colonies?”

Lang shook his head.  “No, but I’ve been on the Citadel almost a year now.  Life is fragile out here.  And word has it a spectre might be involved?  Someone needs to put those guys in their place.”

“You don’t get along with the spectres.”

“Most of us in C-Sec, the Executor especially, don’t like the way they’re allowed to take a free pass on the law, that’s all.  They do some good, for sure, but you got to ask yourself if two wrongs make a right.”

“I’ll let you get going, Officer.”  Shepard nodded.  “And thanks again.”

“No problem.”  He actually saluted before heading into the office.  That gave her pause. 

Williams was staring at her.  She turned to face her.  “What?”

“You really don’t get it, do you.”  The chief’s voice was laced with disbelief.

Shepard was lost.  “Get what?”

“You’re Commander Shepard.  Every human from here all the way back to Earth watched the interview you gave after Akuze.  It was primetime, for god’s sake.  And they broadcast the medal ceremony, too.  I was training in the outer planets, they rounded all of us up and sat us down in the mess to watch.  You’re a damned icon of human resilience, ma’am, and that’s a fact.  There wasn’t a single soldier in my unit who didn’t want to be you that day.”  
  
“I never asked to be a symbol of anything,” she spat back, more harshly than she intended.  Anyone who actually wanted to go through that needed their fucking head examined.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t think it matters whether you asked.”  Williams held herself stiffly.

Shepard rubbed her temple.  “Let’s just get to this club, find Harkin, and figure out where the hell our turian detective ran off to.”

“Right.”  Alenko had his omni-tool up and was scrolling through a map of the ward.  “It’s at the far end, past the markets.  We probably want to take a taxi.”

The ride over was short and uneventful.  Even outside the club, the music was loud, the bass streaming through the metal and up through their boots. 

The entrance zipped upwards at a touch of the pad, greeting them with the sight of a central bar topped by a ring of pole dancers, and tables of bored-looking businessmen thronging the walls.  Williams made a sound of mixed contempt and infuriation.  Alenko appeared mildly surprised. 

Shepard, for her part, was bored.  “Shall we?”

“I guess I can see why people come here,” Alenko said at last.  “It has a nice… view.”

“You might want to roll your tongue back into your mouth before you trip on it, L.T.”  Williams shook her head.  “I don’t believe it.  We travel a million light years from humanity’s home, and what do we find?  A bar full of half-naked women shaking their asses for drooling men.”

“What, you don’t think they’re here for the hot wings?” Alenko jabbed back, lightly.

“God.  You’re all the same.”  Williams turned to Shepard.  “Isn’t this awful?”

“I don’t know.  I used to come to places like this a lot.”  Shepard answered on auto-pilot, distracted.  She did manage to find a picture of Harkin on an archived copy of the C-Sec extranet staff page, and she was busy scanning the room for a matching face.  “I don’t see our mark.”

“What?”  Williams was floored.  “Why?”

Shepard ignored her and approached the bar.  She showed the picture on her omni-tool to the bartender, who needed a little persuasion to give it a good look.  The girl eventually confirmed that Harkin was a regular.  Almost guilty after her initial rudeness, she also mentioned that if they were willing to wait a bit, he usually came in mid-afternoon.  So they found a table and settled in.

Williams was on her immediately.  “Ok, Shepard, you can’t think I’m just going to let that one go.”

Shepard rolled her eyes.  “You’re a marine.  You can’t tell me you haven’t been to your share of strip joints.”

“Not if I can help it.  Besides, that’s not really what you said.”  She leaned forward and nudged Alenko.  “C’mon.  We won’t tell, will we?”

Alenko didn’t seem to know what to make of the situation.  He held up his hands in a surrender gesture.  “I’m staying out of this one.”

“Why shouldn’t I like it?”  Shepard sat back and sighed.  “This galaxy is full of some terrible shit.  There are worse ways to forget than finding a dive bar and watching pretty girls defy gravity after you get back from one of those runs.”

Williams snickered, but it was short-lived as Shepard failed to pick up on the joke.  “Oh, come on, ma’am.  Seriously?”

“Seriously.  Hell, I met my ex-fiancé in a strip joint.”  It was true.  It wasn’t that different from this one, actually, if she ignored the asari dancers and the turian patrons. 

Williams blinked.  “What?”

“He was a grad student at Mars University.  Planetary science.  I was a young jarhead struggling to finish night school between deployments so I could enlist in officer training.  Where the hell else were we likely to meet?”

“That…”  Williams stared, mouth ajar.  “...makes sense, I guess.”

“Live and learn, kid.”  She looked away, suddenly vaguely embarrassed.  Whatever reaction Alenko was busily concealing behind his own casual indifference, it didn’t seem approving.  “Do me a favor, Williams, and go buy us something to drink so we don’t look like armed bums.  We’re getting a lot of stares.”

Then, as the girl shot off, she called, “Non-alcoholic.  We’re on duty.”  Shepard sat back.  “God, she’s like a puppy with a bone, isn’t she?”

“If puppies could shoot as well as her, we’d all be out of a job.”  He managed a half-smile.  “Though I didn’t really think you’d be the one handing out hook-up tips to the newbie.”

“Pretty poor tip.  He left me three weeks before what would have been our wedding day.”  Shepard folded her arms and sat back, rueful.  “I’m losing my touch.  It usually takes a few drinks to get that story out of me.”

“Rough memory?” Alenko asked.

“Dodged bullet.”  She snorted.  “It’s been almost six years.  I wasn’t upset, not really, even then- just pissed as hell that he thought that was a good time to make my life that much harder.”

“That long ago, huh?”  Williams returned, clutching a bottle in each hand and one tucked into her elbow.  She caught Shepard’s look.  “Don’t worry, Commander, it’s root beer.  Promise.”

Shepard sniffed at hers and found this to be true.  She took a long sip.  It wasn’t her favorite.  “Harkin had better get here soon.”

Williams knocked the top off her bottle and took a long draw.  “You can’t just leave us hanging.”

“You can’t just leave us hanging…?” Shepard prompted.

“You can’t just leave us hanging, _ma’am_.”  Williams leaned forward.  “What happened?”

“I can and I will.”  Shepard took another sip.

“Aww, Commander-“

Alenko, who was a bit quicker on the uptake, gave her his best are-you-stupid look.  His root beer went untouched.  “Six years ago was Akuze, Chief.  What do you think happened?”

Williams was suddenly abashed.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to-“

Shepard waved her off.  If they were going to talk about this, it was damn well going to be on her terms, which didn’t include pity.  “It’s fine.  You know, they took me back to Arcturus for debrief and a med check, and that jackass couldn’t even be bothered to come off-world?  He sent me a vid message about how upset _he_ was.  And I still stayed with him for another six months.”  She shook her head in disgust.  “Young people are fucking stupid.  No offense.  I got him back, though.”

“How’s that?” Alenko asked.

She grinned, a little forced, and just a touch of evil.  “His buddies had already laid out the credits for his bachelor party, so they decided to re-brand it a freedom party and go anyway.  I showed up an hour before they got to the club and paid off the girls to leave them alone.  They were… sympathetic.  I actually ended up dating one of them for a while, kind of a rebound thing.”  Shepard cleared her throat.  “Anyway, the boys were stuck with the cover charge, the drink minimum, and absolutely no action for the night.”

“He breaks your heart, you ruin his evening.  Seems like a fair trade.”  His skepticism showed through his sarcasm. 

“Fair, maybe not, but satisfying- hell yes.”  Just then, a man started ambling his way through the light crowd, angling for a back table.  Shepard got to her feet.  “I think that may be our disgraced officer.”

  
She nodded in Harkin’s direction.  Alenko stirred and narrowed his eyes, evaluating.  “That’s him alright.”

“Showtime.”  Shepard stood and adjusted her armor. 

Harkin chose a table to himself, in the corner of the bar, where he could see everything and few people could make out his face.  Shepard didn’t bother with pleasantries.  “You’re Harkin?  From C-Sec?”

He didn’t even try to disguise his appreciative scan of her body in its close-fit hard-suit.  “A woman like you can call me anything she likes.  Why don’t you sit down awhile, doll, let me buy you a drink.”

“Spare me.”  Shepard recognized the tactic for what it was- an attempt to humiliate or fluster her into leaving.  Her hand strayed near her pistol, but didn’t draw it.  She could play stupid games, too.  “We’re looking for a turian detective, Garrus Vakarian.”

“Who’s we?”  He was scowling now.

“I’m Commander Shepard, X.O. of the _Normandy_ under Captain Anderson, here on the behalf of the Systems Alliance.”

“Anderson?”  To their surprise, Harkin started to laugh.  “Priceless, him sending his wind up soldier girl to do his job.  The man’s washed-up.  I don’t suppose he let you in on his little secret, princess?”

“Captain Anderson’s a good officer,” she corrected pointedly.  “And I don’t have time for this crap.  Where’s Vakarian?”

“Anderson and Garrus.  Hah.  Failed spectre working with a white knight who thinks he can change the world.  It’s perfect.”  Harkin faked a contented sigh.  “I just might cry.”

Shepard was merely confused, and losing patience fast.  “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how your captain used to be a human spectre, very hush-hush, and screwed up a mission so badly they kicked him out.  And Garrus is a vigilante nutcase you’d be better off without.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Ask him yourself.  I bet Anderson’s so caught up in his honor that he’ll tell you the whole thing.”

Alenko interjected, with a modicum of diplomacy, “Nobody asked your opinion, or for a history lesson.  We just need to know where to find the turian.  I’m sure you know what’s what in C-Sec.”

“I do know.”  Harkin glowered.  “You know they were keeping a file on me?  Bastards.  Tracking my every little move.  Everyone knows that a bribe here or a blind eye there greases the wheels so everything keeps running smoothly.  Everyone knows sometimes you need to get a little rough with the scum to get your answers.  I made it in.  One of the first humans, better than the lot of ‘em.  They can’t tell me how to do my job.”

Shepard leaned forward on the table.  “You need to learn to take some responsibility for yourself.”

“Save it, sweetheart.  This ain’t a church.”  He sipped at his beer.

“It’s Commander.  And I’m done humoring you.  Tell us where Vakarian is.”  Harkin hesitated, and Shepard leaned further towards him.  “Location.  Now.  Or you’ll be picking up your teeth with that cup.”

There was a quick glance from her face to her collection of weaponry, and Harkin got a few shades paler.  “I might have heard he was going around the med clinic, down in the wards.  The doc there managed to get on Saren’s bad side.  Garrus never knows when to let anything go.”

“Thank you.”  Shepard gave him a polite smile with a razor’s edge.  “You’ve been very helpful.”

On the elevator down to the main thoroughfare, Williams started up her banter again.  “Yeesh, Commander, ye of little patience.”

“I’ve got plenty of patience,” Shepard protested.  “I have patience for my crew, patience for my family, patience for people who need our help, hell, I even occasionally have patience for the persistently stupid.  I just don’t waste any of it on rats like Harkin.”

“Would you really have knocked his teeth out?”

She found herself smiling at the door.  “No.  Probably.”

“I can see it now,” Alenko said.  He cleared his throat and took on a formalized tone.  “’Alliance soldiers detained after strip-club brawl.  Sources close to the Council say one of the perpetrators was a spectre candidate and decorated special forces officer.  Is this proof that humans are far from ready for the responsibilities of galactic citizenship?  Tune in at eleven!’”

Williams laughed.  Shepard pretended to glare.  “Why do I take you anywhere?”

Alenko returned it with an expression of perfect innocence.  “Because, ma’am, you occasionally find it easier to collect teeth once the previous owners have been blasted into the nearest wall.”

“Oh, right.  Silly me.”

The elevator doors opened on a long corridor out to the commons.  It was deserted.  As Shepard stepped into the hall, every warning bell in her head started going off at full volume.  Her whole body tensed.

Behind her, Alenko and Williams continued their joking, but they sounded far away.  Shepard’s concentration was running in overdrive now, her blood loud in her ears, as her eyes swept the scene at triple speed, every detail magnified.  There was a glint from a doorway up ahead.

“Commander?” Alenko asked, confused.

“Move!”  She flung herself flat against the wall just as the glint became a rifle barrel and the unseen assailant started spraying bullets toward the elevator. 

Williams cursed as the two marines scrambled for defensive positions amid the uncanny warble of bullets impacting a suit shield.  Shepard crouched down, drawing her pistol- there was no way of getting at her own rifle on her back without presenting a larger target- and returned fire.  A fist-sized blue ball of light went flying by her shoulder- Alenko’s doing- and knocked the gunman out of his doorway.  He dangled helplessly in the air.

Shepard didn’t have a chance to take advantage of it, however, as at that same moment a second shooter emerged from the other side of the hall with a clean shot at her.  Immediately, she tucked her head to her chest and covered it with her arms, to protect her brain and maximize her dying shield’s efficiency.  A bullet pinged painfully off the armor covering her right hand.

Another wave of light sent him crashing into the doorframe, and she managed to get off a shot.  Assault rifle fire from the elevator finished the job.  The floating man, now dead, hit the floor with finality.  Then there was only silence, marred by the hiss of cooling weapons and the beeps of suit shields coming back online. 

Alenko held out his hand to haul her up.  “Are you alright, ma’am?”

“Never better.”  She surveyed the scene with disbelief.  They were all breathing heavily.  She glanced over both of them.  “Anyone hurt?  Williams?”

“No, ma’am.”  The marine was clutching her rifle in a death grip, the angry red streak of a grazing wound gracing one cheek.  “How did you know they were coming?”

“Light glinting off a barrel.”  Shepard rubbed her hand.  It was going to ache like nobody’s business for the next few days, but it didn’t feel like anything was broken.  The Alliance didn’t scrimp on their armor plating. 

She approached one of the fallen men and rolled him over with her boot.  He wore no insignia and his armor was basic, the kind any enthusiast could buy at a reputable sporting goods shop.  The serial number was filed off his weapon.  “Saren’s men.  Have to be.”

“No transmitters.”  Alenko scanned the men with his omni-tool, collecting as much data as possible.  “Think Harkin tipped them off?”

“He’d have to be damn fast about it.”  Not fifteen minutes had passed since they left Chora’s Den.  “But anything’s possible.”

Footsteps clattered off the metal flooring.  Two C-Sec officers rounded the corner with pistols drawn.

Shepard looked back at Williams.  “Call Anderson.  Now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  She turned away and immediately opened a channel on her comm.

The officers trained their weapons on the trio.  “Hands in the air!”

Shepard did as he said, though she couldn’t stop the fierce, grim smile that crept onto her face.

Alenko, also raising his hands, looked at her sidelong.  “Ma’am?”

“This is good, L.T.”

“I don’t follow.”

She returned the glance, smile growing.  “If Saren wants us dead, it means we’re getting close to something that stings.”


	10. Prison Headaches

Naturally, the C-Sec officers, both turian, were skeptical of any story three Alliance marines could produce to explain why they’d just shot two men dead on a well-traveled thoroughfare.  Shepard gritted her teeth and allowed her squad to be handcuffed, after the officers relented just enough to allow Williams to finish speaking with Anderson.  He agreed to meet them at central processing.  He was not amused.

“What now, Commander?”  Alenko was calm enough, considering, though he shifted uncomfortably in the seat of the cruiser, wincing at the lights flashing through the glass.

Williams was decidedly less sanguine.  “I am not getting locked up in some alien prison.”

“Easy there, Chief.”  Shepard rested her head against the window.  “Nobody’s getting locked up.  We were defending ourselves.  As soon as they dig up the security footage from the hall, we’ll be released.”

“Assuming that Saren’s men didn’t disable the cams before the assault,” Alenko amended darkly. 

Shepard didn’t allow any trace of how much that suggestion troubled her to show on her face.  “Anderson will sort it out.”

He closed his eyes and leaned back, expression pinched and drawn.  Shepard looked away and tried to think.  She was more worried now about being stuck in custody, relieved of their weapons, than she was regarding the actual charges.  Spectres had the run of the Citadel.  In a C-Sec holding cell, they’d be sitting ducks if Saren decided to try again. 

They were dragged through the Academy- Shepard swore she saw the damned asari receptionist smirk in their direction- and unceremoniously dumped in a small processing room with a badly programmed VI doing its best to force them to submit to various security scans.  Another officer, human, came to collect a statement.  Then they were left alone.  The whole process took maybe thirty minutes, and there was still no sign of Anderson.

Shepard blew out a breath as the hatch shut behind the officer, while Alenko, free of the cuffs at last, instantly fished through a suit pocket.  She raised an eyebrow as he withdrew a bottle of pills and downed two without hesitation. 

“Migraine,” he said shortly.  “It’s probably too late to stop it, but what the hell.”

“Stress?”

He jerked his head sharply, no, and elaborated with sarcasm.  “I have a dark energy amplification device hardwired into my brain.  There are some side effects.”

Williams was skeptical.  “A biotic in my unit said they got rid of all the side effects.” 

“Lucky me, I’m old enough to have an L2, not an L3.”  He propped himself up against the wall and covered his eyes with his palm.  “Please don’t talk so loud, I’m begging you.”

“I wasn’t-“  Williams began.  Alenko visibly flinched.  She lowered her voice to a whisper.  “Well, I wasn’t talking loud.”

Shepard turned her attention back to the VI, which smiled cheerfully into space from its corner.  Like the tour guides, it was programmed to resemble an asari, albeit one half as tall as real life.  “How long can they keep us here?”

“Citadel Security is authorized to detain suspects for up to thirty hours after arrest without filing formal charges.”

Shepard still didn’t have the hang of Galactic Standard Time.  “And that’s-“

“Forty-one hours, forty minutes in Terran Coordinated Universal time units.”

“Have there been any charges filed?”

“You are still being processed.  Once your records are fully established within Citadel Security databases, I will be able to provide more current information.”

“Great.”  Shepard groaned and took a seat on the bench running the length of one wall.  Her knowledge of the Citadel justice code was sketchy at best.  Certainly she could pump the VI for information, but at the moment she preferred to believe it would be unnecessary.

Williams paced the room nervously, her hand straying to the empty holster of her confiscated weapon at regular intervals.  In his corner, Alenko was now biting his lip so hard she half expected his teeth to go straight through it, every muscle in his face clenched.  It hurt just to look at him. 

Time passed into endless waiting.  A hard suit was an incredible advantage in a fight, but after hours of sitting in it with no distraction, Shepard felt like her ass was going to fall off.  Williams stretched out the length of the bench, hands folded over her stomach, dozing.  Alenko was a ball, his head drawn up against his knees with his face hidden in his lap.  Every so often he banged his forehead against his legs.  She wondered if it helped.  It had been at least an hour since anyone spoke.  Even the damned VI eventually timed out, dissipating from the air.

Shepard had almost nodded off herself when the hatch split open abruptly and Captain Anderson strode into their tiny stronghold.  She ripped off a lazy two-finger salute from her seat.  “Hello, sir.”

“Shepard,” he replied evenly.  “I forget the part of my orders that told you to gun men down in the street.”

“They shot at us first.  I think they were Saren’s men.”  She explained the generic armaments and Alenko’s theory that Harkin sold them out.  “It seemed best to cooperate with C-Sec instead of adding to the body count.”

He didn’t disagree.  Anderson surveyed the room once more, speculatively.  “Nicer digs than what they have on Mars, I’d imagine.”

Shepard’s jaw dropped momentarily before she could collect herself.  His face remained stern, but his eyes laughed as they caught hers. 

“My mother has a big mouth,” she managed at last.  Damn it, she’d been seventeen.  The records were sealed.  How in the hell did Anderson find out about that?

“Huh?”  Williams shuffled back into the land of the waking. 

“Nothing,” Shepard said, a touch too quickly, before Anderson could take up the thread of conversation.  She changed the subject.  “So, Captain, can we blow this popsicle stand, or what?”

“It took a personal call from Udina to the Executor, but yes.  The security footage confirms your story, but they wanted to hold you for questioning all the same.”  His lips pursed, any trace of earlier amusement gone.

She frowned.  “You think Saren’s leaning on them.”

“I hope whatever intel you got from Harkin was worth it.”

“I know where to go next,” Shepard confirmed.  “There’s a doctor down in the wards who attracted some of Saren’s interest, which in turn got the attention of our C-Sec detective.  We’re getting warmer.”

“Better turn up the heat,” he growled.  “Saren’s playing for keeps.”

“I was just shot at, sir,” she said soberly.  “I’m not the one you need to convince.”

Williams rubbed the sand out of her eyes.  “Let’s get our gear and go find this med clinic.  Sooner is better.”

She spared a glance for Alenko, who managed to stagger to his feet, still obviously in bad shape.  Shepard didn’t suffer from migraines herself, but she’d heard other people’s descriptions.  Knives stabbing into the skull, unbearable pressure, vision fading or flashing, nausea- sometimes lasting hours or even days.  “I don’t think Alenko is in any condition to go anywhere.”

As if to confirm it, Alenko stumbled forward a step, and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach onto the cheap plastic tiles.  Anderson didn’t seem surprised or even perturbed.  “I’ll get Alenko back to base.  You and Williams find this clinic.  We need to move fast.”

She nodded.  “Yes, sir.”

They collected their guns from a reluctant C-Sec staffer and saw themselves out.  Thankfully for their search, though likely not for the health of the residents, there was only one medical clinic listed in the area.  The head physician was given as Dr. Chloe Michel, a smiling, slender young woman with a cap of red hair and lively green eyes.

It wasn’t far, so the two women set out at a walk.  It was very late now, by the Citadel clock, and being this close to the Presidium most of the lights were dimmed and few people were about.  Williams jumped at every noise along the way.  Shepard supposed several days of almost getting killed could do that to a person, if they weren’t used to it.  “Try to relax.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”  Williams swallowed.  “I don’t like this, bumbling around in the dark.”

Shepard didn’t know if she was talking about the investigation or their present circumstances- probably both.  “I don’t like it either, but we have to keep a hold of ourselves, understand?  Otherwise you’re just as likely to shoot some ward rat as an enemy.”

“I know what to shoot at, ma’am,” she replied, more than a little chill in her tone. 

“Good.”  Shepard paused in front of a locked hatch and checked her maps.  “I think this is it.”

They regarded the darkened clinic warily.  For the hell of it, Shepard banged on the door.  There was no response.  She glanced around for security cameras, and then turned her attention towards the control panel. 

“Are you sure that’s allowed?” Williams asked as Shepard pried off the cover.

“Surely not,” she replied absently, examining the tangle of wires beneath.  “Do you have any omni-gel on you?”

“Yeah.  The suit’s a bitch to maintain without it.”  She produced a tube and tossed it to Shepard, who began squeezing a generous supply over the innards.  “No offense, but what good does that do?”

“It creates a weak conductive sheet across the entire system.  Since most locks work in a physical sense by opening circuits…”  She stuck out her tongue in concentration, the tip between her lips, and spread it carefully among the nest of wires.  Her suit would ground her sufficiently for this task, though she wouldn’t much care to test it on anything stronger than a lock.

Williams seized her wrist in her hand, hissing.  “Don’t you think we’ve been arrested enough for one day?”

Shepard stared at her coldly.  Her voice was very low as she spoke.  “Touch me again, Chief.  I dare you.”

Williams’ grip gradually slackened.  “I’m- I’m sorry, ma’am, just- _breaking into a building_ , really?”

“I’m not going to hurt anything.  I’ll even scoop the goop out of the control panel when I’m done.”  The hatch zipped open onto an abandoned room.  “Shall we?”

Williams cursed under her breath, but followed Shepard into the depths of the clinic.  The flashlights mounted on their rifles gave the room an eerie cast, a scant illumination that served more to deepen the shadows than reveal their surroundings.  Directly ahead was a half-wall wrapping around some structural complication of the station, and partitioning the entry from the beds and medical scanners at the far end of the clinic.  Dispensers for medicines, bandages, and other supplies hung neatly off the walls. 

Shepard made a beeline for the terminal sitting shut in the corner of the room.  Williams swept her light over the beds, searching for occupants, while they waited for it to warm up.  Every bed lay empty, but her uneasiness refused to fade.  “I don’t like this, ma’am.”

“So you’ve said.”  Shepard didn’t permit her flagging patience to govern her response.  “C’mon, Chief.  Where’s your sense of adventure?”

She stared.  “You’re nothing like what I expected.”

Shepard blew out an exasperated sigh.  “It’s like I told you- I’m no icon.  I’m just me.  Sorry if that doesn’t quite match whatever ridiculous notions those old vids put in your head.”

Williams muttered something.  Shepard leaned over the console, tapping in a few commands.  “I can’t hear you.”

The marine turned to face her directly.  “I said get over yourself, _ma’am_.”

“Go to hell.”

“My entire platoon is dead.  I’d be dead, if you hadn’t shown up.  Saren would have gotten away with it, too, without the evidence you found.”  She took a step closer.  “In my book, that makes you a hero.  And now we’re on the brink of war, and we _need_ a big goddamn hero.  So, with all due respect, Commander- I don’t care _what_ you think.  Someone has to step up.”

Shepard laughed.  “I’m just a marine, Ash- can I call you Ash?  I’m good at my job.  Hell, I’m goddamn amazing at my job, but I’m pretty bad at everything else.  If you’re looking for a hero I can suggest a few.  It sure as shit isn’t me.” 

Williams made no reply, except to turn her back and resume monitoring their perimeter.  Shepard turned back to the terminal.  So far, there was little to suggest any misdoing in the clinic.  No unusual supply shipments, no notable names on the patient log.  She found a password cracking package on the extranet, downloaded it to her omni-tool, and set to work on the patient files.

After a moment, she said, “You’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?”  Williams raised an eyebrow over her shoulder.

“You’ve got the biggest chip on your shoulder I’ve ever seen.  I know not all of it’s Eden Prime.  What’s your problem?”

“No problem.”  She rolled her shoulders and turned back to her duty.  “The Alliance never treats us Williams as well as we treat them, that’s all.  My dad used to say a Williams has to be twice as good as anyone else to get half the recognition.  He served the Alliance until he died but never got promoted past serviceman, third class.  How’s that for justice?”

Shepard glanced back at the young woman, who was holding herself quite stiffly.  This had nothing to do with the Alliance.“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Williams swallowed.  “Thank you, ma’am.”

Shepard bit her lip, hesitating, and checked the progress of her password cracker.  So far, it wasn’t having much luck.  Slowly, she said, “My dad almost got spaced, when I was a teenager.  It left him with a lot of health problems.  Lately he’s… he’s not doing very well.  It was always just my mom and him and me, and he kind of held the whole thing together while she was off chasing rank.  I don’t know what’s going to happen if…”

She trailed off, and cleared her throat.  “Sorry, you don’t want to hear this.”

“No, it’s ok.” 

It might have been her imagination, but Williams sounded slightly less aggressive.  In any case, at that moment her bootlegged program beeped disappointment, and she thumped her hand against the terminal irritably.  “Damn it.  Worthless piece of garbage code- I can’t get into these patient files.  They’re all protected.”

“Check the deletions log,” Williams suggested.

“Good thinking.”  She tapped a few more commands.  “Hey, this is interesting.  Most of the data’s been scrubbed, but she treated someone for a gunshot wound not five days ago.  Name is literally Patient X.  Dr. Michel needed a file to feed the scanners, but it’s like she didn’t want any record of this person to exist afterwards.”

“Think Saren shot them?”

“Probably not personally, but I’ll take any lead we can get at this point.”  Shepard copied the relevant data, what little of it there was, and shut down the terminal.  “Let’s get out of here.”

“You said it.”  Chief Williams led the way out, and didn’t seem to relax until Shepard wiped clean the inside of the door control box and replaced the lid.  “What now?”

“Now, we go get a few hours’ sleep and be waiting here tomorrow when Dr. Michel opens the doors,” Shepard replied grimly.  “I have a lot of questions for her.”

They took an auto-pilot taxi back to their billet.  Small frigates like the _Normandy_ only had enough sleeping pods to rest a third of the crew at a time.  That was entire reason the modern Alliance navy ran three watches rather than two- to save precious space aboard ship.  Not that its service members complained.

That arrangement worked just fine in deep space, but less well in port.  Most of the crew had been moved to visitor’s quarters on the small Alliance base aboard the Citadel.  Shepard found the racks to be standard-issue- narrow, stacked three high, and outfitted with a sheet, pillow, and blanket.  There was a laundry at the door for trading out soiled uniforms alongside a rack for body armor.  She crawled out of her hard suit and found her bed, but sleep proved elusive, in spite of the long day 

She lay staring at the bunk above her, idly spinning her dog tags on one finger, an old habit all too many C.O.s had tried to break her of.  Too much was happening, too quickly.  Eden Prime was scarcely behind them.  Saren was altogether too far in front.  Somehow, she had to find a way to bring those two points together. 

The visions granted her by the Prothean beacon also haunted the darker corners of her mind.  She thought she’d seen it all, between the Blitz, Akuze, Aonia, and all the rest of it.  This was something else altogether.  She had only one word for it.

Annihilation.

Shepard shuddered.  There was still a hope that the Council was correct, that what she’d seen was imaginary or irrelevant, but in her bones she knew this was a pleasing lie.  What she saw was real.  It meant something.  Not being able to figure out why the Protheans would have left that for someone to find was going to drive her crazier than the images themselves.  Was it a warning, like Anderson told the Council?  A final cry for help?  Or merely some kind of premonition or war of their own?

 _And I’ll drive myself crazy if I don’t get any sleep._ The tags slipped back over her head and she rolled on her side, shutting her eyes resolutely against the Prothean nightmares.

And when she heard, two bunks over, Gunnery Chief Williams crying herself to sleep into her pillow, as quietly as possible, she was kind enough not to notice.  She rather felt they’d had enough togetherness for one night.


	11. The Geth Memory Core

Morning saw a much-welcomed shower and a quick breakfast in the Alliance mess.  Human food was still a novelty aboard the station.  Shepard opted for cold cereal, sans milk, given that the milk in question was a shade of pale blue.  Her red hair was in its customary knot behind her head, but there was no time to dry it properly, and every so often an uncomfortable bead of cold water would roll down her neck and soak the collar of her shirt.

Williams still looked a little red around the eyes when Shepard met her ground team outside the mess.  Alenko was similarly exhausted.  She cocked her head.  “Feeling better, Lieutenant?” 

“I’m sorry about that, ma’am.”  He seemed mortified, holding his hands behind his back and not quite meeting her eyes.

“Does this happen often?”

Alenko shook his head.  “No.  I’m on two medications for it, one I take every day and the emergency one.  Usually, so long as I take the second when the aura starts, they manage to knock it down enough that I can still function.  This one came up fast.”

Or because he wasn’t able to take his pills immediately due to his hands being cuffed, she thought, recalling him flinching away from the lights of the C-Sec squad car. Her brow furrowed.  “Aura?”

“It’s a precursor symptom causing visual and sensory interference.  Spots in my eyes, tingling in my hands, that kind of thing.”  His face reddened slightly.  “It won’t be a problem, ma’am, I promise.”

She left it at that, to his evident relief.   Anderson clearly didn’t find his medical problems a danger to their mission, and that was good enough for Shepard, seeing as he had his pick of crew for his ship.  She’d just keep an eye out for any warning signs in the future. 

They all woke up a bit more as they made the brisk walk back to the clinic.  Though taxis were plentiful and convenient, it continually surprised her how close to the wards the Alliance outpost truly was.  A part of Shepard wondered, idly, what it would be like to be stationed here, at the heart of everything, outside the familiar confines of human space and the perimeter of her ship. The thought was odd and rather surprising.  Her duty as a marine was to protect humanity, at all costs and against all enemies, which historically had included some of the aliens who lived here.  But as time went on it was harder to think of them as aliens instead of simply people.  The Alliance grew more tightly bound to the galactic community- economically, militarily, culturally- every passing year.

Williams apparently had similar thoughts.  “Do you think it’s expensive to live here?”

“Probably.”  Shepard shrugged. 

Alenko shuddered.  “Too many lights and too much noise.  No thanks.”

They reached the med clinic.  The inside was lit up and the hatch blinked a cheerful green, indicating the lock was disengaged.  Shepard stole a glance at the time.  It was fully thirty minutes before the clinic was scheduled to open.  “Anyone want to bet Dr. Michel is an early riser?”

“With our luck?”  Williams chuckled.  “No.”

“I don’t think so either.”  Alenko pointed.  “Look.  Burns on the lock.  Somebody wired it open.”

“Crap.”  That wasn’t her doing.  Omni-gel left no marks.  Stickiness, sometimes.  Shepard drew her pistol and edged over to the window.  It was hard to make out what was going on, but she saw several figures crowded together past the frosted glass of the dividing wall.  “Hold your fire for my order.”

There was a chorus of assent.  Shepard took a breath and slapped the door panel.  It sprang open.

It took her only a split second to evaluate the scene.  Four thugs, human, surrounded a woman in lab garb who was stark white with terror and babbling aimlessly.  “I didn’t tell anyone, I swear!”

Garrus Vakarian spotted Shepard and put a finger to his mouth, a plea for silence.  He was crouched against the half wall, out of sight.  Meanwhile the ringleader shoved his pistol in Dr. Michel’s face.  “Good.  Fist wants us to make sure it stays that way.”

Shepard trained her rifle on his head.  The movement caught the eye of one of his friends, who cried a warning, and suddenly all three henchmen were more interested in her than their intimidation racket.  The leader grabbed the doctor and pressed her to his chest in one smooth movement.  “Stop right there or she dies.”

Shepard’s aim never wavered.  “Let her go and maybe you’ll live.”

She thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, but she didn’t dare betray Vakarian by looking left.  Beside her, Alenko and Williams each picked their targets, posing a credible threat to the leader’s friends. 

“You must think I’m some kind of-“ he started to reply, but the jab was cut short by half his head exploding in a cloud of gore.  The doctor stumbled back, retching and spattered in tattered human tissue, and it was a good thing, too.  At that same moment, bullets filled the air as the men left alive immediately panicked. 

The glass shattered.  Shepard dove for cover.  “Take them out!”

It wasn’t much of a contest.  Gangs like these liked to think they knew gun fighting, but their street-skills weren’t up to military standards, particularly not those who had gone through ICT’s harsh education, and neither was their hardware.  It was almost boring, popping up over the barrier, firing off a few rounds, crouching again while her marines did the same.

She rose as the final man fell, shaking dust out of her hair.  Their assailants hit the bulkheads far more often than their targets.

The doctor didn’t know whether to sound grateful or appalled.  She stared at the turian.  “You killed him!”

Detective Vakarian inclined his head towards the both of them.

Shepard holstered her gun.  “Nice shot.”

“A clean kill.”  If turians could smile, this one was doing so.  “Sometimes you get lucky.”

Michel seemed to have decided on gratitude.  She spoke with a French accent that seemed to thicken the most upset she became.  “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come when you did.  Fire fights in a hospital _._ Can you imagine!”

“Who sent them?” Shepard demanded.  Her squad quietly checked the bodies as they spoke, a grim if monotonous task.

“It was Fist,” she answered immediately.  If Michel harbored any doubts, they didn’t show.  “This must have been about that quarian.  It couldn’t be anything else.  I should never have hid her here, even just to stabilize her.  I put all my other patients at risk.  Anyone could have been here this morning.”

“What quarian?”  Shepard didn’t expect that.  Quarians kept to their fleet, and their numbers aboard the Citadel weren’t high.

“She came in here in a bad way.  Shot, and not in one of the nice places.  Begged me not to report it.  Her infection was terrifying, and the quarian immune system so hard to bolster.”  Michel shook her head, disapproving.  “She never told me her name, just got her treatment and left.  She was playing some kind of hunch on the geth, babbling nonsense about a data core.  I didn’t ask many questions.”

Alenko got Shepard’s attention.  “They’re clean, ma’am.  Almost too clean, like the men we saw before.”

“Thanks.”  She brushed aside the attack on the quarian and pressed the lead.  “Who’s Fist, and how did he get involved with this?”

“He’s an agent for the Shadow Broker.  The quarian was looking to sell her information in exchange for protection, so I put her in touch.”  Dr. Michel paled.  “Oh, god, you don’t think they got to her, too?”

Vakarian was more satisfied than angry.  “Fist doesn’t work for the Broker anymore.  He’s Saren’s man now.  I hoped I’d find your quarian here, before he did.  She’s up to her neck in trouble.”

The doctor’s brow furrowed.  “Fist betrayed the Shadow Broker?  That’s stupid, even for him.  Nobody crosses the Broker.  He knows everything that moves in the galaxy.”

Shepard caught Vakarian’s eye.  “This quarian must have information that proves Saren’s a traitor.  Why else come down this hard?”

“Exactly.”  He gave her a grim little smile.  “We’ve got him, as long as we can find her before he does.”

“Damn it.”  Time was always their enemy.  “Where do we start?”

“With Fist.  We hauled in a krogan mercenary, name of Wrex, for making threats against him.  He’s been consistently insistent that he intends to make Fist a corpse.  If anyone will know where to find him…”

“Right.”  Shepard glanced back at her squad.  “Chief, I need you to report back to Captain Anderson, let him know what’s going on.  If we’re going after Saren’s agent I want someone to know where we went.  Vakarian, you’re with us.”

Williams saluted, concealing her disappointment well.  She was a good gun, but Shepard was still feeling out her judgment- and when push came to shove, she might well need Alenko’s technical expertise more than raw firepower to get close to Fist.  Taking the order without protest was, however, a big point in her favor.

Shepard looked back at Dr. Michel. 

“Those men would have killed you,” she stated flatly.

The doctor swallowed and nodded.  “Yes.  I think, in the future, I’ll stick to medicine and avoid intrigue.  I can’t thank you enough.”

Vakarian checked his heat sink.  “I’ve wanted to take down this bastard for years.  Commander, please, lead the way.”

When they arrived at C-Sec, Vakarian immediately led them past reception and into the warrens of the Academy.  Shepard couldn’t resist tossing a smug look at the asari receptionist as they strode by. 

The krogan waited in an interrogation room, grinning evilly at a very put-out Citadel Security officer.  She threw Vakarian a look of relief as they entered.  “Sir, the suspect is being very… recalcitrant.”

“Is that so?”  He glanced at Shepard, and she found her own mouth curving in sardonic amusement.  “Officer, you’re dismissed.  We’ll take it from here.”

She hurried off like she couldn’t put enough space between her and the krogan detainee.

Shepard looked over her shoulder at Alenko.  “Watch the door.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”  He took up station in the hall.  Shepard ducked inside.

Vakarian settled down in the vacated chair.  His eyes flicked over the file.  “Really, Wrex.  Is frightening a wet-behind-the-ears kid like that necessary?”

Shepard tagged the hatch shut behind them and took up station nearby, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning casually against the wall.  “I take it you two are acquainted?”

“I can’t say the same for you,” the krogan- Wrex- growled, his voice an octave lower than a typical human’s.  Krogan were large, with pointed reptilian faces beneath a crest of plated bone, in his case a dark maroon.  Wrex’s armor concealed the large hump on his back, where krogan bodies could store enough nutrients to go months without eating.  His nose tasted the air.  “But you smell like a warrior.”

She chuckled.  “I’m Commander Shepard, _SSV Normandy_.  I hear we’re looking for the same man.”

“Wrex is a bounty hunter,” Vakarian interjected dismissively.  “He’s usually smart enough to steer clear of business while he’s on my station.”

The krogan folded his arms as well, unconcerned.  “I take the jobs as they come.  Fist is a nasty piece of work, but he’s… civilized.”

“He has information critical to my mission.  I need to know where I can find him.”  Shepard didn’t have any time to waste on this banter.

“I’ve heard of you, Shepard.”  He looked her up and down.  “We’re both warriors here together, so I’ll give you fair warning.  I’m going to kill Fist.  He’s mine.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do with him, so long as I get to ask my questions first.”  Not entirely true, but enough to pass.  Wrex seemed to feel some kind of camaraderie between them and she wasn’t above milking that if it got her what she needed.

Detective Vakarian folded his hands on the desk.  “I could have you charged for that, you know.  Making threats to Fist is one thing, making them in front of a C-Sec officer while being recorded is another.”

Wrex just laughed.  “It’s not a threat, turian.  It’s a promise.”

“Do you _want_ me to arrest you?”

The krogan shoved forward.  The table slid ten centimeters.  “I want you to try.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Shepard found she couldn’t hold in a laugh.  Both men glanced at her, startled.  She clamped a hand over her mouth but another giggle slipped out anyway.  “I’m sorry… sorry, I know all this posturing must be very important _._   But I’ve got a quarian to catch, so if you don’t mind…?”

Vakarian was chagrined.  Wrex stared at her for the better part of thirty seconds, and for a moment Shepard worried she’d inadvertently started a fight in a small room with a one-ton enemy species renowned for their prowess in close-range combat.  But she lifted her chin and held her ground.

The he burst out laughing.  “Human- you, I like.  You’ve got more courage than the half of these sniveling C-Sec pyjaks.  Sure, I can tell you where to find Fist.”

She smiled.  “I’m listening.”

“He owns Chora’s Den.  Built himself a nice little office behind the place, where he can oversee the business personally.  Spends most of his time there.”

“Shit.  No wonder he was able to put together an assassination squad so quickly after we left Harkin.”

“A couple of guys in an alley is a love note compared to what he’s going to have waiting for you at his place,” Wrex said confidently.  “You should take me with you.”

“I’ll end up in prison myself if I spring another officer’s suspect,” Vakarian protested.  “It’s how this crap mill works.  I’ll have to process your release, and that takes more time than we’ve got.”

“We’ve got this,” Shepard assured him, pulling out her rifle and checking over it.  “Vakarian, you’re with me.”

A slight smile.  “Call me Garrus.”

“Garrus then.”  She jerked her head towards Alenko as they made their exit.  “We’re headed back to the lounge.  Be ready.  Our informant thinks Fist is going to have quite the welcoming party.”

Garrus drove them across the ward in a C-Sec car, though he nixed the lights and sirens in favor of getting a jump on Fist.  He might be expecting them, but there was no reason to let him know the moment they arrived.

“Power’s off,” Alenko stated grimly as they approached the door, weapons drawn.  “He’s shut the place down.  It’s going to be dark, and there were chairs and tables everywhere.  Shin-knockers, my dad would say.”

“Watch your fire and stay together.”  She nodded to the powered down door panel.  “Think you can do something about that?”

He pried off the cover and pulled a few wires.  After a moment, the panel lit up green, and he fell back into place.

Shepard took a breath and raised her free hand.  “On three.  One… two… “

She slapped the panel and the hatch sprang open.  The club looked foreign without the bass and the flashing lights, and without the haze of cigarette smoke hanging over everything, but what immediately caught her attention were the 20-odd guns pointed directly at them.  “Oh, shit-“

As one, they opened fire.  Shepard’s shield was down a half-second before she hit cover, leaving a nice pockmark on ceramic plates that made up the chest of her suit.  She’d feel that one later, but right now, there were thirty pounds of adrenaline coursing through her veins and she doubted she would have felt an amputation.  A quick glance verified that Alenko and Garrus had taken up residence behind the till across from her.  Neither that nor the overturned table shielding her offered much resistance to bullets, but at least the enemy couldn’t aim for them directly.

There was only one thing to do.  Shepard unclipped a grenade from her belt, pulled the pin, and sent it sailing towards the back of the room.  She tucked her head into her knees.  Alenko, who was familiar with Alliance tactics and half-expecting the maneuver, followed suit.  Garrus, however, was distracted and failed to notice the throw.  He was peering cautiously over the top of the till when all hell broke loose.

The concussive blast knocked her into the wall despite her precautions.  The club filled with smoke and screaming.  Garrus lay stunned on the floor, blinking stars out of his eyes, but he was low enough to ground to keep cover from the debris.  Ears ringing, she used hand-and-arm signals to order Alenko to move up alongside her.  They pressed towards the bar.

The wounded were for the most part too surprised and in pain to offer more than a token resistance at best.  The men were so crowded into the room that her single explosive found a lot of targets.  It was gruesome, but not any worse than what she’d seen before.  They advanced steadily, with a quick burst of fire here and there to settle the last of the resistance.  Most of those still alive were too injured to bother with an attack.

Shepard jumped over the bar for some cover as they reached the end of the room.  She nodded to a hatch, and whispered above the groans of the injured and dying.  “Think that leads to the office?”

“Has to.  It’s the only door other than the entrance.”  Alenko peered over the top of the bar, similarly ignoring the battlefield horrors.  “On your order, Commander.”

She looked over her shoulder, not liking the thought of having her squad separated.  She expected him to catch up by now.  “Check and see if you can find Garrus.”

He slunk off, keeping low, while she kept her gun trained on the hatch in case of reinforcements.  A minute later Alenko returned, a mildly concussed turian in tow. 

Garrus’ expression was half-amused and half-annoyed.  “Next time, a little warning, if you please.”

“What, and warn them too?”  She nodded to the hatch.  “Lieutenant, if you please.”

They took up position and Alenko sent a gentle wave of energy towards the hatch, just enough to trigger the touchpad.  It slid open smoothly.  Beyond it, a small cluster of men in overalls- not armor- crouched behind a few hastily-assembled crates, clutching pistols.  Unlike those in the main room, these would-be combatants simply looked terrified.

“They look like dock workers,” Garrus said.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”  Shepard raised herself up over the bar a bit.  “You going to use those guns, or are they just for show?”

“Stay back!” one of them called.  “Stay back or I’ll shoot!”

She spared an ironic and only slightly heightened glance at Fists’ men, strewn all around them, then decided to take a chance and hopped the bar.  She stalked towards them without a trace of fear.  “I killed at least fifteen guards to get this far and maimed a lot more.  What do you suppose I’ll do to you?”

Shepard was now standing at point-blank range from the man who spoke up, looking down at him, hands on hips and her expression promising the wrath of god if he didn’t make the right choice, and quickly.  His eyes wavered between her and the tangled bodies, and blanched.  “Shit.  We’re not getting paid enough for this.”

“Go on, get out of here.  Go back to your families.”  She jerked her head towards the door.  The dock workers scattered.

Garrus watched them go, blinking.  “I’d never have thought of that.”

Alenko looked around.  “Shooting people isn’t always the answer.  But I wonder where all the staff went.”

“Hopefully, our friend Fist just sent them home for the day.”  Shepard listened briefly at the next door.  It sounded like someone was shuffling around in the next room.  She lowered her voice and nodded towards it.  “Ready?”

Both men nodded.  She tagged the hatch and slipped into the room.

A swarthy blonde raised his rifle immediately and held down the trigger until he overwhelmed the heat sink.  Shepard simply waited out the fire behind a wall partitioning the space.  Someone was panicked.

The weapon began to click and beep in irritation.  Still, the man kept trying to fire.  She rolled her eyes and slapped it out of his hand.  His eyes went wide as she leveled her own gun.

“You’re Fist?” Shepard asked mildly.

“Shit.”  He couldn’t focus.  His eyes kept darting between the three of them. 

“Your men are dead or dying,” she continued pleasantly.  The muted moans from the bar underlined her point.  “That was a lot of effort to go to for a simple conversation.”

“I’m not an information broker anymore,” he said.  “I can’t help you.”

This she ignored.  “I’m looking for a quarian.  She came to you for protection, so you should remember her well.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  The answer was a little too fast, a little too practiced.

Alenko glanced at her.  “He’s lying.”

She altered the angle of her gun.  “If you’re fond of functional knees, I suggest you start talking.”

“I told you-“

“Lieutenant, shoot him.”  Shepard turned away.  She knew he’d never do it, not for real, not to an unarmed civilian no matter how vile, but he understood what she wanted and took aim, finger twitching but not actually depressing the trigger.  Garrus, she felt, would have shot Fist without hesitation.  That kind of coldness had its own value but this wasn’t the place.

The gesture was enough.  The blood drained from Fist’s face in a single gush.  “Wait!  Wait, ok, maybe I do know something.  She’d only deal with the Shadow Broker directly.”

“Nobody ever meets the Broker.”  Garrus frowned.

“I know.  Even I don’t his true identity.”  Fist sighed.  “But she didn’t know that, see.”

“You vile little worm.”  Shepard rounded on him.  “She came to you for help, probably paid you for it, and you set her up.”

He didn’t look at her.  She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and jerked him towards her.  “Where’s the meeting, hmm?”

When he didn’t answer, she shook him, hard.  “Location.  Now.”

“An alley in the upper wards, not far from here.  If you hurry you might still catch them.”

Shepard dropped him unceremoniously on the floor.  Fist rubbed his neck, where his collar dug into his flesh, and shot them a death glare.

Garrus nodded towards him.  “What should we do about him?”

She frowned.  There was no satisfactory solution here- no time for an arrest, and she wasn’t about to commit murder, either.  Not over scum like Fist.  So she crouched on the floor, her face inches from him, and snarled, “I never want to see your face again.  Is that clear?  You get yourself the hell off this station, and away from the company of good people.”

He was sullen, but she could tell he wasn’t lying.  At this point he was too afraid of them to do anything but comply.  “Don’t worry.  You won’t see me again.”

Alenko caught her eye.  “We need to run.”

“Right.”  She left Fist to make his plans and high-tailed it out of the bar.  Garrus, who knew the station best, took the lead.

“This way,” he called, as they entered the twisted back alleys of the wards.  The marines followed on his heels.  He dropped his voice as they turned down a long corridor and saw a lone quarian standing, apprehensively, up ahead.  “There she is.”

Shepard crouched behind a garbage collector, figuring how to play this.  But before she could act, a turian entered the scene.

“Where’s the Broker?” the quarian demanded.  She had a contralto voice, pleasant, but overlaid by the electronic amplification of her helmet.  Quarians never left their envirosuits, at least not in public, though Shepard didn’t know why.  Unlike volus they did breathe standard oxy/nitro air.  Despite the obscuring nature of the suit the woman seemed very young.  Maybe because of the amount of naivety evidenced along this chase, or maybe it was simply how alone she looked in the middle of the alley.

The turian ran his hand over her shoulder and down towards her torso.  None of his attention was on the conversation.  “He’ll be here.”

She slapped his hand away.  “No way.  The deal is off.”

The turian just laughed.  A number of other men of various species stepped out of the shadows.  The quarian took a hesitant step back, looked around wildly, and then tried to run for it.

Shepard took that as her cue.  “Open fire!” 

They took the thugs by surprise.  Shepard shot the turian first, with no small amount of satisfaction as her gun wiped the smarmy expression from his face.  The whole sad episode was over in a matter of minutes.  Without cover, without coordination, the young woman’s assailants dropped like flies.

As the dust settled, she was surprised to see the quarian crouched against a wall, with a serviceable shotgun settled grimly in her hands and every sign of having used it.

She looked up at Shepard as the commander sauntered over.  The purple-tinted mask hid her face, but two canted eyes shown out like stars.  What trick of biology could make them glow like that was anyone’s guess.  “Thank you.  I owe you my life.”

“I’m just glad we got here in time.”  Shepard was surprised by her own response.  Protecting civilians was, in a way, the entirety of her job, and it was the right thing to do, but they were still strangers.  This one, she felt oddly good about.  Maybe it was just the quarian’s age.  Girl still applied as readily as woman.

“Me too.”  The eye lights flickered.  A blink?  “But… not that I’m looking a gift horse in the mouth, but who _are_ you?”

“I’m Commander Shepard, with the Alliance.  I’ve been tracking Saren since Eden Prime.  My investigation led me to you.”

Comprehension dawned.  “You’re the one from the vids.” 

Her brow furrowed.  “What vids?”

Garrus cleared his throat.  “Some of the footage from your meeting with the Council leaked to the press.  It’s been all over the news.”

Great.  She pushed the unpleasant revelation aside, and refocused.  “Why is Saren after you?”

“My name is Tali’Zorah.  Tali’Zora nar Rayya.  I found some information while trying to complete my pilgrimage that could help your case against Saren.”

Alenko glanced around.  “Not to interrupt, but this alley isn’t secure.  I suggest we get somewhere safe before we continue this story.”

“Good thinking.”  Shepard bit her lip.  “The ambassador’s office.  Udina and Anderson need to hear this, too.”

Tali’Zorah gulped, audibly, but voiced no objection.

Luckily, both the ambassador and the captain were already at the office when they arrived.  Udina rounded on her immediately, purple-faced.  “Have you gone daft?  Bodies in the streets?  A shoot-out at Chora’s Den?  Is this how Alliance officers conduct their business nowadays?”

“Shut up,” she snapped.  Even Anderson was taken aback. “I’ve been gathering the evidence you wanted.  Believe it or not, Saren’s associates share his tactics.  Some altercation was unavoidable.”

Udina pointed at the quarian.  His voice dripped contempt.  “What is _she_ doing here?”

“My name is Tali.”  Her tone was tight, agitated.  She glanced at Shepard.

“She has evidence against Saren.  He tried to kill her for it,” Shepard explained, an edge in her voice.  Udina was staring at Tali like she was something the cat dragged in, or possibly vomited up.

Anderson cut in before any more barbs could be exchanged.  “Let’s hear it.”

Tali looked at each of them in turn, nervous and sour.  She tapped away at her omni-tool.  Saren’s voice abruptly filled the room.  “Eden Prime was a major victory.  The beacon has brought us one step closer to finding the conduit.” 

Udina slapped his fist into his palm.  “We’ve got him!”

But Tali’s gaze never left Shepard’s as she allowed the recording to play on.  A second voice, a woman’s, practiced and mellow, joined Saren’s.  “And one step closer to the return of the reapers.”

The recording fell silent.  Shepard cleared her throat.  “Who the hell was that?”

It was clearly an asari language- turians evolved out of the same genetic line as birds on their homeworld, and nobody except a turian could really vocalize their languages with any success.  So the mystery woman couldn’t speak Saren’s tongue.  But Shepard didn’t know the one she did use, which was damned odd.  In mixed company, asari typically chose one of their handful of widely-spoken diplomatic languages.

“I don’t recognize the second voice,” Udina mused.

“It doesn’t matter.”  For the first time in days, Anderson looked hopeful, and excited.  “There’s no way the Council can ignore this evidence.”

“Wait a minute,” Alenko cut in.  “I hate to rain on everyone’s parade, but it’s just a recording.  There’s no easy way to verify it’s not fabricated.  Hell, we used to do this kind of thing as a prank, when I was a kid.”

“Shit,” Shepard cursed, looking over at Anderson.  “He’s right.” 

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t have proof.”  Tali was almost offended, a true technophile.  “I took this recording from the memory core of a geth unit.  I have the core in a secure location.”

Anderson was confused.  “I thought geth memory cores self-destruct when they go offline.  Some kind of fail-safe.  All the ones we’ve dug out on Eden Prime are burnt out.”

Tali leaned back, something satisfied in her posture.  “My people created the geth.  Sometimes, if you’re quick, careful, and lucky, small caches of data can be preserved.  I tracked this geth for four days, until I could lure it away from its unit and disable it.  I wanted to bring back something useful for my pilgrimage, but…”  She shrugged.  “The flotilla has no need of this kind of data.  I’ll have to keep looking.”

“Pilgrimage?” Shepard asked.

“It’s a rite of passage for my people.  Going out into the galaxy for the good of the fleet, bringing home something of value, like hardware, or new technology… it’s how we become full adults.”  So, the guess about her age was evidently spot-on. 

Alenko was still parsing the information.  Slowly, he asked, “What’s a reaper?  Why does Saren want to bring them back?”

Tali almost laughed.  “The geth revere the reapers as gods.  They’re the ultimate machine.  According to their beliefs, they vanished fifty thousand years ago, after purging the galaxy of all organic life, leaving behind a paradise for synthetics.”

“That’s absurd.”  Udina shared in her amusement.  Even Anderson was entertained.

Shepard, however, felt a cold, hard knot form in her stomach.  “It’s not.”

Now everyone was looking at her.  She was too certain to be embarrassed, or doubtful.  “I saw it.  That’s the beacon’s warning.  That’s what happened to the Protheans, it has to be.  Everything fits.”

“Nathaly, think about what you’re saying.”  Anderson was concerned. 

She returned his look levelly.  “I know exactly what I’m saying, sir.  And the geth believe Saren can bring them back, using this ‘conduit’, whatever that is.”

“This is all beside the point.”  Udina seemed pleased, despite everything.  “I’ll convince the Council to call an emergency session.  We’ll present this evidence and they will be forced to act.”


	12. A Chat With Anderson

Three hours later, Commander Nathaly Shepard once again stood before the galactic Council in the middle of an argument.

They kept the attendance small this time.  It was just her and Udina.  Anderson’s presence, even in light of the evidence, was ruled a distraction, nor would a quarian add to the cause.  Tali’Zorah didn’t seem to mind.  She surrendered her recording and retrieved the geth memory core without fuss, and was waiting back in Udina’s office under the protection of several Alliance marines, including the two under Shepard’s command.  If Saren wanted another shot at Tali, out of ignorance of recent developments or pure spite, he was in for a challenge.

After some preamble, the ambassador presented the recording with an air of triumph.  For her part, Shepard watched the faces of the Council as Saren’s voice thundered through the room.  Valern’s dark salarian eyes were unreadable, but his turian counterpart, Sparatus, looked distinctly discomfited.  Tevos had gone pale.  No question whether she understood the language- no slight translator delay in her reaction.  When the recording switched to the woman’s voice, she jerked as if shot, and swallowed visibly.

The last words died.  Udina spoke into the quiet.  “There you have it.  Proof that Saren led the unprovoked assault on Eden Prime, and is a traitor to his office.”

“We’ve examined the memory core.”  Sparatus’ mandibles twitched.  The admission pained him.  “It is uncompromised beyond the geth’s own self-destruct protocols.  C-Sec experts have verified the recording.  The evidence is irrefutable.”

“And Saren?” Udina barked.

“Saren Arterius will be stripped of all titles and privileges,” Valern concluded.

Udina wasn’t done.  “And Eden Prime?”

“Saren is hiding somewhere in the Traverse, with his ‘army’, such as it is,” Sparatus chided.  “He no longer has the rights, privileges, or respect due a spectre of the Citadel.  He is no threat-“

“That’s not good enough!  What’s to stop him from attacking our colonies?  You must send the fleet to bring him to justice.”

“We must do nothing,” Sparatus hissed.  “A fleet cannot find one man.  Besides, any strong military presence in the Traverse is likely to provoke a war with the Terminus.  We won’t risk that, not for a handful of colonies.”

The ambassador was practically purple.  Shepard felt her own indignation slowly turning to rage.  She met the turian councilor’s eyes.  There was a small, sly smile in their beady depths.  They both knew damn well that if these were turian colonies, or asari, Saren wouldn’t live to see next Tuesday.

She took a breath just as Udina opened his mouth to levy another argument.  “There is another solution.”

“Commander Shepard.”  Councilor Valern sounded vaguely pleased.  That was a surprise.  “I understand we have you to thank for these curious revelations.  What is your plan?”

Shepard stepped forward and looked from one councilor to the other.  “Send me after him.”

Sparatus had an ugly laugh.  “Vigilante justice, now?”

“I’m Alliance- I’ve got their resources at my back.  You won’t have to expend your own.”  She forged onward steadily, not acknowledging the slight.  “I’ve spent the better part of ten years crawling all over the Traverse, so I know the lay of the land out there.  And one person, one ship, seeking a known criminal and nothing more, will not provoke a war.”

Valern pursed his narrow lips.  “There is, however, only one way to deploy you in the interests of the galaxy with all the proper authority to pursue Saren.”

“That is true,” she acknowledged.  Shepard was amazed she managed to keep the smug grin off her face.  Politics, it turned out, could be fun after all.

“Councilor Tevos,” Sparatus said.  “You’ve been very quiet so far.”

The asari raised her head from her podium.  She licked her lips.  “I recognize the second voice.  The woman.”

He blinked.  Udina and Shepard exchanged a glance. 

“Tevos, who is it?” Sparatus asked.  His voice was quieter, gentler, the way one speaks to a friend in shock. 

“I-“ she lowered her head, shook it once, took a breath.  Her gaze leveled the turian.  “It’s Matriarch Benezia.  She is a great leader among asari, very progressive, and she has many followers.  Her philosophy, her opinions, are very influential on Thessia.”

Shepard would bet all the credits in her account that Councilor Tevos was one of these vaunted followers.  She was as shaken as if she’d just been told of the death of a family member.

Valern was puzzled.  “Why would an asari matriarch be assisting Saren in these… plans, whatever they are?”

“I don’t know.”  The councilor shook her head again, stricken.  “I honestly don’t know.”

“It doesn’t matter.”  Udina attempted to regain control of the dialogue.  “Shepard’s plan is a sound one.”  
  
Sparatus sneered.  “Of course you would say that.”

“It’s a win for everyone,” Shepard cut in.  “You get your rogue spectre, your embarrassment, brought to heel, the Alliance gets to protect its colonies, and Udina gets his human spectre.”

“And you, Commander?  You have no stake in this?”

“Sir,” she began.  She paused to compose her thoughts.  “Sirs, ma’am, I graduated one of the harshest training programs in the known universe.  I have spent most of my adult life undertaking dangerous and secret missions in unlikely places to preserve the peace and safety of this galaxy.  I currently serve as the executive officer aboard what may be the most technologically advanced frigate in any fleet, promoted above those exceeding my age and experience.”

Shepard met the eyes of each of them in turn.  “With all due respect, I have all the honors one person needs or indeed knows what to do with.  This isn’t about ego.  I’ll find a way to take Saren out regardless.  You need this more than me.”

Udina was staring at her with something like surprise.

“Well spoken,” he said at last.

The councilors exchanged glances.  Again, she sensed an advanced degree of unspoken communication.  Then, as one, they reached forward and touched their consoles.

“Commander Shepard.”  Councilor Tevos motioned her forward.

She held herself at attention.  Shepard wasn’t certain what was appropriate on the galactic stage, but figured it was rarely out of place. 

Sparatus looked like he’d bitten a rotten apple but made no objection as Tevos continued.  “You will be instated as a member of special tactics and reconnaissance, the strong arm of council authority within our galaxy, with all the ceremony due an appointment of this magnitude.  As the first human to receive this honor, I am certain you are aware that the eye of history is upon you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Shepard didn’t flinch from her scrutiny.  “I’ll find Saren and shut him down.”

“See that you do,” she said, and Shepard had never heard anyone more sober in her life.  “This session of the Citadel Council is adjourned.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard didn’t remember much of the ride back to the ambassador’s office.  It was always like this.  She was calm and collected in the moment, and everything hit her later, once the urgency was ended.  Udina was crowing.  She just felt like she was about to be sick.

They burst into the room like a sunrise.  Udina was gesticulating wildly and, by that point, incoherently.  Shepard slumped into the nearest seat and rubbed her forehead.

Tali’Zorah got to her feet.  “What happened?”

“They bought our testimony.”  Shepard let out a long breath.  “Saren’s a traitor.  Now everybody knows it.  They’ve disbarred him from the spectres.”

The statement hung in the air, begging for more information, but she sat back and let it lie.

“And?” Alenko took a step towards her.

She looked up without really seeing him.  “They’re sending me after him.  They’re making me a spectre.”

“Wow,” he said.  “That’s… big.”

Williams peered at her.  “You look a little green around the gills, ma’am.”

“I’m pretty sure I just promised three of the most powerful people in the galaxy that I know the Traverse like the back of my hand, and I would not only find but put down a man who has two decades’ experience on me, along with his personal robot army, like mad dogs.”  She paused.  “I’m… going to need a minute.”

“I think that’s probably a natural reaction,” Alenko stated.  She peered at him, but didn’t detect any mockery.

Shepard stood, walked over to the balcony, shook herself out, ran her hand over her hair and took a deep breath.  “Ok.  So what’s next?”

Udina had calmed himself.  “We need to get you a ship, supplies.  Start running down leads.”

“Someone needs to find Captain Anderson,” Williams added.

“That, too,” Udina acknowledged.   He was pacing now himself.  “Benezia.  That’s a solid start.  If she’s really shilling for Saren now, that’s a coup.  It could divide the asari.”

Alenko frowned.  “Maybe that’s his goal.  Humanity’s just the first step.”

“If this reaper crap is real, everyone’s at risk.”  Shepard stopped pacing and turned back towards the room, her arms folded over her chest.  “Saren’s their vanguard.  The geth believe it.  Matriarch Benezia believes it.”

“Machines that wiped out the Protheans, returning to annihilate us?”  Tali was skeptical.  “All quarians know that synthetic life is a danger, but this is well beyond anything we’ve considered possible.”

“Something killed them,” Shepard argued, stubbornly.  “They didn’t go quietly into the night, the beacon made that damned clear.”

“To you.”  Udina left the statement, and the implications, hanging in the air. 

She squared her shoulders.  “Damn right to me.”

Udina faced her down a moment, before rightly deciding not to pursue it at this time.  “Regardless, Benezia might prove more traceable than her associate.  A woman like that will leave a trail.  Unlike -Saren, she lives in the public eye.”

“I’ll get on it.”  Shepard mostly managed to keep the sarcasm from her voice.  It was a good suggestion, but an obvious one, enough so to be vaguely insulting.  But it wasn’t worth upsetting the precarious balance of the room.

Williams was more than eager for the fight.  “When can we go?  Into the Traverse, I mean, after Saren?”

She sighed.  “I don’t know where to go yet.  As soon as I do, I’ll let you know.”

“There’s also the matter of the induction ceremony.”  Udina rubbed his chin.  “It will take the Council’s staff a few days to pull things together.  We have some time to strategize.”

“Well, let’s get started.”

/\/\/\/\/\

As a de facto spectre, even if it wouldn’t become official for a few days, Shepard was afforded new resources.  One of them was a small room in the depths of the C-Sec academy, no more than a closet, furnished with a desk, two chairs, terminal, and a vid comm.  The light flickered erratically.

In the last four hours, she’d become acquainted with the highlights of Benezia’s professional history.  At nearly a thousand years old, there was a lot of material to cover, even cursorily.  But she’d solved the linguistic mystery.  Benezia was born in Armali, now one of the largest and most influential cities on Thessia, millennia ago a thriving nation-state, before the asari discovered the relays.  A truly ancient place by any stretch of the imagination- and one of the few to preserve its ancestral language against the overwhelming tide of unification.

She was sifting through Benezia’s ninth century, much closer to the current date and which promised some leads, when someone rapped on her hatch.  “Enter.”

Captain Anderson opened the door and peered around the corner.  “Cozy little office you’ve got here.”

“Yes, sir.”  She finished a bullet point on the infernal datapad and looked up, with a tired smile.  It was after one in the morning. 

He held up a bag.  “Have you eaten?”

She gave it a glance.  “My stomach’s been a bit…”

“Jittery?” He laughed, and took the chair across from her.  “I know the feeling.”

Anderson set out two styrofoam containers.  As he opened them, the smell of garlic and tomato sauce washed over her.  “Where the hell did you find spaghetti in this place?”

“It’s ravioli,” he corrected, and passed her a plastic fork.  “Stuffed with cheese instead of beef, because you’re a wimp.”

Her vegetarianism was a development of the past year, and Anderson wouldn’t let up on it.  Shepard ignored the barb in favor of a mouthful of food.  “This is pretty good.”

“You have to know where to go on the Citadel.  Food from Earth is a rarity.”

They ate for a minute or two in silence.  Shepard finally said, “Well, Udina got what he wanted.”

“Yes, he did.  I wish it hadn’t taken Eden Prime, but…”  Anderson shrugged.  “Any port in a storm.  We’ve needed this in with the Council for a long time.”

“Twenty years?” she asked.  She couldn’t quite bring herself to give voice to Harkin’s gossip, not here, not to Anderson.  But curiosity was eating away at her.

“About that long, yes.”  His look was penetrating.  Then he sighed and sat back.  “Who talked?”

“I hate to say it, but Harkin.”  Shepard bit her lip.  “Is it true?  I know not all of the spectre appointments are public.”

“I was never accepted as a spectre.  I failed my candidacy test.  Which was overseen by Saren Arterius.”

Shepard sat back as well.  “What happened?”

“We were pursuing a rogue scientist.  He was conducting illegal AI experiments, and the Council was holding the Alliance responsible.  We were supposed to capture the scientist, or kill him if that proved impossible.”

“I’m guessing things didn’t go according to plan.”

“No, they did not.”  Anderson shook his head.  “He hid in a refinery.  We were supposed to sneak in quietly, but Saren had other ideas.  He blew the whole place.  Most of the workers didn’t make it out.  The clouds of poisonous gas killed a lot of the civilians- the families, the children- living downwind in the town.”

“My god.”  Shepard was taken aback.  Even after Eden Prime, even knowing Anderson as well as she did, the story came as a shock.

“When the dust settled, he blamed me, and the Council swallowed it.  Said I tipped off the guards.”  Anderson snorted.  “After that, there was no chance of my becoming a spectre.  It took two goddamn decades for them to take another human candidate seriously.”

Her voice was quiet, chiding, but understanding as well.  “You should have told me, sir.”

“I know.  I wanted to, but… I’m not proud of this, Shepard.  I’m a soldier.  This was the ultimate test.  I failed.”  Anderson stared into his lap for a moment, and then looked up at her.  “But it showed me who Saren really is.  He’s a psychopath.  And a murderer, and a warmonger.  He enjoyed killing all those people.  I wish I’d done what was needed twenty years ago, and damn the consequences.”

“If we start thinking like that, the Alliance is nothing more than an anarchy.  We have to take the orders as they’re given, even when they’re wrong.”  She rubbed her forehead.  “Sometimes there’s no good solution.”

“You’re one to lecture me on following orders.”  He chuckled.

Shepard had to laugh at that.  “You’re still sore over that business in the Verge?”

“Until the end of my days, Shepard.”  He stabbed another piece of pasta and changed the subject.  “I’m surprised to find you here, today of all days.  I figured you’d be out celebrating.”

“There’s too much work to be done,” she replied, honestly.

He wasn’t fooled.  “And…?”

“And…”  Shepard sighed.  “This is political.  I didn’t earn this.  I was just standing in the right place at the right time.  Bingham, Silveira, Laine- any of them are just as qualified.”

“No, they’re not.  If they were as good as you, their names would be in the hat.”  Anderson regarded her steadily.  “I’m sure somewhere along the line someone found this false modesty in you charming, but it’s time to get over it.  You’re the face of human strength now.”

She folded her arms crossly.  “So my email inbox keeps reminding me.”

He had to chuckle at that.  “My office is getting a lot of requests as well.  Mostly from the press, but also a few other people, some not so nice.  You have to know it’s not going to be like Akuze, Nathaly.”

“I know.  It’s going to be worse.”  She tried, and failed, to match his humorous tone.  In truth, she was dreading the reporters.  Their questions would be intrusive, biased, and in service of a hidden agenda.  And they wanted to know everything _._   Her childhood, her early service, her joke of a degree, the N7 stuff she wasn’t allowed to talk about and didn’t want to, anyway.  It would be _personal._ It was a feeding frenzy, and Nathaly Zelena Shepard was the only item on the menu.

He gave her a look.  She was exasperated. “I’ll handle it.  Just because I’m not turning cartwheels doesn’t mean I’m not ready.  Don’t worry about me.”

Anderson relaxed a hair.  He returned his attention to his food.  “This ceremony they’re assembling for you is going to be something else.  First human and all that.  And they also want to make it clear that they’re doing something about the geth.  Even the people who support Saren don’t like the idea of rogue AI.”

“I wish they’d make it short and sweet.”  Shepard speared another ravioli.  The sauce really was spectacular.  “I already got a visit from some kind of protocol officer.  Asari.”

He harrumphed.  “I know what they’re like.  All pomp and circumstance.”

The terminal blinked.  One of the articles she requested finally cleared the system.  She hit a key to deactivate the announcement and spoke to the computer, nonchalant.  “She asked me if there was anyone I was expecting.  To attend the ceremony.  You know, family and friends thing.”

“Yeah?”

“It was… I don’t know. My dad can’t go off world, not with his health problems, and mom is… well, mom.  I don’t have any friends who are going to come out for this, not on short notice at the expense of traveling all this way.”  Shepard snorted contempt.  “I swear to god, when she looked at me, there was pity in her eyes.”

Anderson sighed.  “That’s not unusual.  Not for N7, not for spectres.  You know I’m right.  We don’t have… normal lives.”

Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have voiced the question, but it was late, and it had been a strange day.  “Any regrets, sir?”

“That’s a complicated question.”

“Indulge me.”

“What do you want me to say? Of course I’ve thought about it.  Hell- my wife served me with divorce papers the same day I got the message that I was under consideration for the spectres.”

She blinked, surprised.  “I didn’t know you were married.  Mom never mentioned it.”

Anderson waved her off.  “You were a kid.  No reason for her to mention it then, no reason to remember it later.  It’s a hard life.  You don’t need me to tell you that.  But you find friends- good friends, real friends- who don’t care about the shitty schedule, or the risks, and that’s your family.”

“But you don’t ever get a real one.” 

“It’s real enough.”  He exhaled.  “This doesn’t have something to do with what happened last year-“

“No, sir.”

He paused.  “You know, I kept telling your folks you were still alive, but the truth is there was only a lack of evidence you were dead.  God knows that if the batarians killed an Alliance spec ops squad inside the Hegemony they would have paraded your bodies through the streets.  And I never believed it.  But there were an awful lot of people happy when you made it back home.”

Shepard stared down into the styrofoam, and then speared another piece and continued eating as though nothing had been said.

Anderson let it drop.  “Look, I’m an old man.  You’re not even twenty-nine.  Don’t write off the rest of your life because this is what you’re doing right now.”

She looked up.  “Don’t misunderstand me.  I do want this.  It’s a hell of a challenge.  Like you said, the chance of a lifetime.” 

“If you want me to get your mom out here...”  It was one part joke, one part threat, and one part serious.

Shepard chuckled.  “Fuck, no.  I was just looking for some catharsis, I guess.”

“You’ll do fine, Shepard.  You always do.”

“With all due respect, that’s what scares me, sir.”

That got a laugh.  “But I didn’t come here to talk politics or philosophy.”

“Why did you come here?”  She glanced at the now mostly-empty containers.  “Other than to make certain the Citadel’s newest spectre doesn’t faint dead away from hunger.”

“I came to tell you that Udina and I found you a ship.”

“Oh?”  She scraped up the last bit of sauce.  “Which ship is that?”

He cleared his throat.  “The _Normandy_.”

Shepard stared.  “No.”

“She’s the fastest ship in the fleet,” Anderson went on steadily, overriding her immediate objection.  “And you’ll get good use out of her stealth capabilities.  You know the crew, you know the hardware, and there’s no time to spool you up properly on something new.”

“But the _Normandy’s_ yours.”  Shepard was aghast.  “You got her built.  She’s barely got the shiny rubbed off-“

“This is how it has to be.  Someone’s got to stay back here, too,   The Council will be happy to wipe their hands of Saren two seconds after you’re out of their hair.  Tell me I’m wrong.”

She wrinkled her nose.  “You’re no pencil-pusher.”

“I do what I have to.  Like any good marine.”  His tone was at once hard and resigned.  “Take care of her for me.”

Shepard met his eyes for a long moment.  “She won’t get a scratch, sir.”


	13. Three Missions aboard the Citadel

There was a sharp knock on the door.

Shepard’s head jerked up off the table.  The datapad stuck to her cheek a moment before sliding off onto the floor with an ominous crunch.

The knock came a second time, even less patient.

“What?”  She brushed some of the trash from last evening’s meal into the bin and raised her voice.  “I mean, come in.”

The door slid open and Garrus Vakarian stepped into her makeshift office with a speculative air.  The blue markings on his face looked brighter than before- paint, then, not tattoos.  She imagined it would take quite the needle to get through turian hide.  He was already wearing a C-Sec hard suit despite the early hour, and he was grinning. 

Garrus fingered the string hanging from the bare lightbulb.  “I see the Council spares no expense.”

Shepard folded her hands neatly on the desk and tried to blink the tired out.  “What can I do for you, Detective?”

He tilted his head and read the document left open on her terminal, a property record, backwards through the holographic interface.  “Why do you care that Matriarch Benezia bought an apartment in Thessia’s capital?”

“It’s a long story.  I think she might have bought it because-“  Shepard rubbed her face.  “You know, never mind.”

“Congratulations, by the way.”  Garrus perched on the edge of her desk.

“Yeah.”  Shepard sat back and looked around the shabby office, noting her two hours of sleep.  “It’s a real honor.”

Garrus snickered.  She rolled her eyes.  “Why are you here?”

“I called Dr. Michel this morning.  Just to check in.  She was abrupt, and you know that woman is nothing if not wordy.”

“You think something’s up?”

“I don’t know.”  His mandibles flared.  “I’ve confirmed that Fist has left the station.  You really lit a fire under his ass.  But I’m worried all the same.  I thought you might want to come along and check it out.”

She ran a hand through her hair, greasy and falling out of its bun, then looked down at her disheveled uniform.  This wasn’t getting anywhere.  Shepard was itching to do something real, or at least something mobile.

She tucked in her shirt and slipped her dog tags back under collar, and took a final glance around the room before firmly clicking the terminal off.  “Lead the way.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Kaidan Alenko was on his way to breakfast on the lower level of the Presidium.  He was tired of eating what passed for food in the mess, and decided it wouldn’t do any harm to spend part of his paycheck on a real meal. 

It turned out the Alliance diplomatic corps aboard the Citadel had similar opinions on the palatability of alien cuisine, because there were any number of small, human-owned cafes scattered near the offices of Udina and his staff.  People thronged the counters in long lines and crowded the tables and chairs that sprawled out from under awnings and cubbyholes.  He bypassed the early stands in hopes of finding something with less of a wait.

Alenko always found the Citadel a bizarre experience.  It was a space station larger than most cities located in the middle of absolutely nowhere, without planet or star to anchor it, and its residents seemed to have a similar perspective.  Out here, nothing that happened in the galaxy mattered, but they thrived on galactic news like a form of entertainment.  It was a bubble of nonsense adrift in space.

The Citadel had its own media networks, as did all the various races, but in this distinctly human quarter ANN was the service of preference.  Most of the restaurants had at least one screen going.  Alenko was beyond sick of hearing reporters drone on about Eden Prime, tired of hearing the death counts and the damage tolls, and even more sick of the wild speculation regarding the geth by people who clearly didn’t know what the hell they were talking about. 

Their ignorance irritated him.  That they barely mentioned the sacrifices of the marine units annihilated during the invasion or Jenkins while making veiled accusations that this was somehow the Alliance’s fault, for failing to protect the colony, infuriated him. 

The news had a lot to say about Shepard, though.  From the way they told it, her recent promotion was more important and exciting than the attack.  Nobody could be more disgusted by those priorities than Shepard herself.  She honestly didn’t seem to give a damn about being a spectre- just how it helped her get the job done.  He admired the hell out of that.

There was a lot he admired about her, if he was honest.  She was smart and capable, utterly unflappable in a crisis.  A natural soldier- every skill in her arsenal was honed over the years until it couldn’t get any better.  Shepard definitely had a hard side, a kind of instinctual violence that showed whenever something got in her way, like how she solved the problem of Manuel.  He didn’t know how to feel about that.  But it came hand-in-hand with a clarity of focus Alenko always felt he personally lacked.  His brain could chase itself to exhaustion before it came to a decision about anything. 

And she didn’t seem to care that he was a biotic, either, even taking the ill-timed headache in stride.  He had a love-hate relationship with his implant.  Alenko responded well to the L2, better than most of his peers, but he could just sink into the ground and die when it pulled a stunt like it did two days ago.  He had to be reliable, stable, because nobody thought biotics were either of those things.

On the other hand, Alenko would be cold and buried before he let some re-branded Conatix spin-off within ten klicks of his brain again, so he and his L2 implant were rather stuck with each other.

He buried the ugly thought and got in line at the café that looked promising.  There was no point in dwelling on it.  Things could have been worse.

Thirty minutes into this quixotic quest for a decent plate of eggs, he was beginning to devalue quality in favor of speed.  The line inched forward.  He shuffled impatiently from foot to foot a few times before he noticed and stopped himself.

“Kaidan?” asked a hesitant voice.

He turned and squinted.  “Mat?”

Matsuo Noguchi-Lidstrom, dressed in a suit and holding a briefcase, grinned at him from the sidewalk.  “Holy shit.”

He came over and clapped Alenko on the shoulder, to muttering from the other people waiting in the line.  “I had no idea you were on the Citadel.”

“Just the last few days, while my C.O. tried to get the Council to see reason on this synthetic thing.   It’s been hectic.”  It was over a year since Alenko last saw him, but Mat never changed, from the way his black hair stood up slightly at the back of his head, to how the heavy frames he favored kept sliding down his nose.

Mat looked him up and down.  “I imagine.  You were on Eden Prime?”

Alenko frowned.  “Yeah.”

The man standing behind him jostled him.  “Move up or get out of line.  I don’t have all day!”

Alenko reluctantly allowed Mat to draw him aside, over the strong objections of his stomach.  His friend was still talking.  “Seriously, you were on Eden Prime?  Are you ok?”

_Bodies spilled across the earth.  People on spikes, humanity erased.  Jenkins staring unseeing at the sky._

“Mat,” he said, exasperated, forestalling further questions and before his mind could conjure any more memories.  “This is my job, remember?  I’m fine.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  His expression was rueful.  “I know it’s been ten years, but it’s still hard not to think of you as that pasty kid huddled up in the library at three a.m. because he got a ninety-five instead of a hundred on his diff eq exam.”

Alenko had to laugh.  “Trust me, it feels a lot longer from this end.  How’s Alex?  And Hadley?”

“Oh, the same.”  Mat rolled his eyes.  “Ranting about how the whole firm’s going under because a handful of building projects got put on hold after this invasion, and meanwhile I swear Hadley gets an inch taller every day.”

“I hear that’s how it goes.”  Alenko had little familiarity of children himself.  His cousin had a few kids, but he saw them rarely these days.  Even at holidays he was usually deployed.

His friend glanced back at the queue, which contrary to all logic seemed to only get longer as the morning dragged on.  “Hey, look, I’m horrendously late for work, but let me get you breakfast real quick.  There’s a place I go to most days, off the main drag.”

/\/\/\/\/\

The med clinic was open early again.  Dr. Michel was on a call when Garrus and Shepard walked in, pacing nervously before the terminal.

“Yes- No- If you’d just let me-“  There was a long pause as someone on the other end spoke low into their comm.  Dr. Michel swallowed.  “I am running a clinic.  I need those supplies.  You can’t just ask me to give them up.”

The voice laughed.  Dr. Michel looked like she was about to cry.  “I see.  Well.”  Another pause, and she got very quiet.  “Yes, I understand.” 

She terminated the call and stared at the floor, muttering to herself in French too soft for Shepard’s translator to register.

Garrus strode forward.  “Good morning, doctor.”

She started and whirled in place.  Garrus smiled.  Shepard started to say good morning, but a yawn came out instead, so she settled for a wave.

“My apologies, Detective, Commander, you startled me.”  The doctor smoothed her tunic.  “What can I help you with?”

Shepard jerked her chin towards the terminal.  “Who were you talking to?”

Michel colored.  “Nobody.  Nobody important, anyway.”

She hustled over to a bed, where a salarian was curled up on his side, and fussed over his IV.  Shepard trailed after.  “Doctor, seriously, if Fist’s leftovers are giving you a hard time-“

“No, Fist is gone.”  Her smile was tremulous and fleeting.  “Thank you again.  And congratulations on the new appointment.  Is the ceremony going to be very large?”

“I really don’t know.”  Shepard didn’t allow Michel to distract her.  “You were talking about supplies for your clinic, so I know it’s not personal.”

Her indignation was immediate.  “But it is personal.  It’s my dirty laundry after-“

If anything she blushed harder and closed her mouth. 

Garrus pounced on it.  “Chloe, come on.  You’ve patched up how many of our cadets?  This is me you’re talking to.”

“Oh, if it will shut you up.”  Dr. Michel blew out a breath, causing her red bangs to flutter across her forehead.   She sat on the edge of an empty cot.  “It’s something from my past.  A job I used to have.  Fist stirred up a lot of garbage coming after me.”

Shepard crossed her arms.  “What kind of garbage?”

“The kind that gets you fired.”  She scraped the hair out of her eyes.  “Several years ago, I was working at a different clinic.  People would come in, sick people, and I would give them medicines, sometimes other supplies, but I was not supposed to.  My coworker found out.”

“So your boss let you go.  I’m not seeing the scandal, here.”

“You don’t understand how these things work on the Citadel.  These were government supplies.  My supervisor did me a kindness in only firing me.  I could have lost my privilege to practice on the station.”  The doctor looked up at them both, expression drawn.  “I could still lose my license and this clinic if the reason ever came out.”

Garrus made a kind of purring noise.  Shepard supposed it was meant to be thoughtful.  He put a hand to his chin.  “And now somebody wants some more free medical supplies, or they leak the story.”

Michel nodded.  “That is the essence of it, yes.”

Shepard exchanged a glance with Garrus.  “When?”

“Today.  This afternoon, in the market.  There is a retailer named Morlan-“

“I know Morlan,” Garrus interrupted.  He wasn’t smiling.

Shepard thought about a moment.  This was outside the scope of her responsibility or authority as an Alliance officer, and it was too small for a spectre, though it seemed that spectres largely determined for themselves what was a valuable use of their time.  Some obviously miscalculated.

But she liked the doctor, and if she had to stare at another tinny asari gossip segment on Benezia’s glamorous life she was going to put her forehead through her desk.  “Let us make the delivery.”

Michel blinked.  “You’d do that?”

“Sure.”  Shepard shrugged, like she met with smarmy blackmailers all the time.  “We’ll make sure he never bothers you again.”

“What does that even- never mind, I don’t want to know.”  She inclined her head. “Thank you again, Commander.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Alenko followed his friend into a side hallway off the main drag of the Presidium.  They’d been walking at a brisk pace for several minutes, leaving the crowd behind, and increasingly the shops and restaurants as well.  Here, the station was darker and plainer.  The corridor gave way to drab corporate entryways interspersed with the occasional potted plant.  One would think they’d be wilted in their planters, but if anything the dirt looked freshly watered.

His stomach rumbled.  Half a joke and half a warning, he said, “Mat, I swear, if you’re kidnapping me to your actual office…”

Matsuo laughed.  “Don’t get me wrong, Kaidan, I still think you’re crazy, but I stopped trying to talk you out of this military cr- stuff years ago.  We’re nearly there.”

Alenko didn’t want to rehash old arguments yet again.  “Kind of out of the way.”

“If it weren’t, it’d have a line as long as the others.”  Mat shrugged.  “Great coffee though-“

“Wait a second.”  Alenko held out his arm to stop him walking.  Up ahead, a salarian was crouched next to a keeper holding a watering can.  The creature took no notice as it went about its landscaping duties, while the salarian fiddled with something clutched in his hands.

Alenko’s brow furrowed.  He took a step forward.

The salarian caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, yelped, dropped whatever it was he was holding, and bolted down the hall.

“What the hell?”  Alenko pointed at the device as he sped past, gaining speed.  “Pick that up, would you?”

Salarians were amphibious, long-legged and spare, and evolved from an ancestral species which hunted flying insects from the ground.  The guy knew how to run.  Alenko was hardly out of shape, but it was all he could do to keep up.  The man skidded around a corner and tried to disappear through a doorway.

A control panel blocked his escape path, forcing him to pause.  Alenko slapped two keys on his omni-tool and the panel went out in a shower of sparks.  The salarian let go fast.

“Alright,” Alenko said, his hand going to his sidearm on autopilot, but not drawing.  “What exactly were you doing back there that made you cut and run?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, too quickly.  He kept his hands visible and his eyes wide, glued to Alenko’s pistol. 

Alenko eased off with a touch of guilt.  The salarian didn’t look armed- just scared.  He folded his arms.  “Who are you?”

His inner lids flicked up over his eyeballs nervously.  “My name is Chorban.  I’m a scientist.”

At that moment, Mat rounded the corner, wheezing, his suit jacket in disarray.  In his spare hand he held a crude plastic device with a datapad mounted in the center and a few shaped wire coils protruding from the top.  “Shit.  I almost lost you in that.”

“They teach us to run pretty fast in the marines, Mat.  Maybe you should try it.”  Alenko couldn’t resist for all the eezo in the _Normandy’s_ core.

“Alex would kill me,” Mat declared without a shred of hesitation.  “And then he’d find a way to raise my corpse, just so he could kill me again.”

Chorban’s eyes darted between them and the door.  Alenko’s attention snapped back to him.  “You still haven’t answered my question.  What were you doing?”

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong!”

“So, you were doing something.”

The salarian inhaled, his nostrils flaring, and sized them both up.  Then he hung his head, capitulating.  “I was trying to collect data on the keepers.  Scans, specifically.  It’s amazing that they’ve been here since we discovered the Citadel but we know almost nothing about them.”

“Scanning them?” Mat was incredulous.  “Do you know how illegal that is?”

“It’s not illegal!” he protested hotly.  “It’s illegal to interfere with the keepers.  My scanning doesn’t bother them.  It’s completely non-invasive!”

Alenko exchanged a glance with Mat.  He wasn’t a Citadel resident, and far from an expert on its laws.  “It doesn’t sound much different.”

The salarian’s shoulders sagged.  “They don’t seem to notice my scans at all.  You saw the passivity of the one in the hall.  Truthfully… nothing seems to disturb them.  In the old days, people used to kill them for sport, and nothing happened.”

There was something almost sad in the way Chorban stood there, contemplating the futility of his research, and against that, entirely unconcerned with what C-Sec might think of his study.  Alenko almost felt bad for interrupting him, and now he wasn’t sure what to do next.  Just letting the guy leave seemed counterproductive, but he had no authority to detain him, nor was he inclined to get C-Sec involved. 

Mat’s omni-tool buzzed loudly.  He grimaced.  “My boss, wondering where the hell I am.  You’ve got this?”

“Yeah.”  He took the scanning device.  It was a truly odd contraption, obviously homemade, and seemed primarily assembled from prefab components off the extranet.  “Sorry I made you late.”

“I made me late,” Mat corrected.  “Take care, Kaidan.  We’ll have to catch up soon.”

“Say hello to your family for me.”  As his friend departed, Alenko turned back to the salarian.  “Can I ask why you care about this, exactly?”

Chorban simply blinked at him.  “Because we don’t know anything, and the keepers control everything.”

/\/\/\/\/\

At eleven o’clock in the morning, the club Flux was abandoned.  A bored volus scrubbed the same spot of the bar with a tired rag while nodding occasionally to the prattle of the waitress leaning against it.  Upstairs, a pair of elderly turians tried their luck gambling at the quasar machines.  Even the music sounded empty as it reverberated against the walls, harsh and loud without a mass of flesh to deaden it.

Ashley Williams stepped into this nadir of activity, ignored the quavering lights, and plopped herself on a bar stool back towards the wall.  The volus and the waitress exchanged a glance.

The chief rapped her knuckles against the bar.  With a roll of her eyes, the waitress sauntered over.  She was human, early twenties, with a cap of brown hair rivaled in sleekness only by the cut of her long dress, a prevalent style aboard the Citadel.  Williams found it ridiculous.  Whoever thought rubber opera gloves were attractive, anyway?

The girl smiled, more polite than authentic.  “What can I get you?”

“Vodka tonic.”  Williams straightened and smoothed the cloth of her uniform before folding her hands neatly on the bar.  Each syllable was clipped and falsely bright.  “With a dash of bitters and a wedge of lemon.”

The waitress took a wary step back.  “We don’t have lemons, ma’am, but there’s an asari fruit with very similar-“

“Of course there is,” she growled.  The waitress took another step back.  Williams rubbed her forehead, exhausted beyond belief.  Sleep couldn’t seem to find her.  Maybe alcohol would help.  “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that very little human fruit makes it all this-“

“I said it’s fine.”  She turned her eyes back to her folded hands.

The girl took the hint and carried the order back to the volus.  Williams stole a glance, and watched the server make a bottle-drinking motion with her hand and shrug. 

“I’m not a drunk,” she said, loudly.

“It’s… just that it’s eleven in the morning, ma’am.”  The girl reddened.  Her name badge read _Rita_ in large letters. 

It was hard to tell, what with the envirosuit and all, but the volus seemed to narrow his eyes.  Williams reverted her gaze to the back wall of the bar.  “I don’t have anything better to do right now, that’s all.”

Rita’s answer came after a pause two beats too long to be comfortable.  “As you say, ma’am.”

The drink was produced and set on a coaster close at hand.  The fruit proved to be solid in texture, more like an apple, but had a pleasantly acidic scent.  Williams took a sip.  Grudgingly, she had to admit it wasn’t half bad.

The pair of servers went back to their conversation.  Williams ignored them, and cued up her omni-tool instead.  There wasn’t much worth looking over.  For the moment, she was routing all email about her unit to a new directory, so she didn’t have to see it.  She wasn’t ready to deal with all that.  There was a brief letter from her sister, expressing relief at her survival.  Williams wrote home at the first opportunity after the attack to make sure her survival reached them ahead of the news.  Abby’s letter at least avoided their mother’s hysterics.  Mom was a strong, staunch woman, but life in the Alliance had dragged her to hell and back and her stamina was exhausted.

Williams took another sip of her drink.  It wasn’t like she didn’t know what she was getting into, signing up.  Dad made it clear there was a lot of hurry up and wait.  What he never conveyed was that waiting, when everything was urgent and the simple fact of being alive demanded action, could feel like the weight of the world was slipping down her back.

As the thought entered her head, Williams could almost hear his response, cadenced quiet against her restlessness.  _“Serene, I fold my hands and wait / Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea; / I rave no more 'gainst time or fate / For lo! my own shall come to me.”_

Burroughs wasn’t her favorite, nor his, but it fit the moment.  She herself would have chosen the third stanza rather than the first, but that was just her being snarky.  They could use a little bark and destiny right now…  But the lines comforted her all the same.

The counter rattled suddenly.  Down at the other end of the bar, the conversation had evidently devolved into an argument.  Rita had just slammed her fist upon it.  “This isn’t funny, Doran!”

“I never said that it was,” the volus, Doran, soothed.  “But your sister’s a big girl.  I was sorry to lose her, but she’ll make more in tips alone working up at Chora’s Den, you know that.”

“It’s not about the money.  You know how stubborn Jenna is.   I swear, she stays on just to spite me.”

On impulse, Williams drained the last of her cocktail and rattled the ice in the glass.  A flicker of annoyance crossed Rita’s face as she trekked back down to her seat.  “Yes?  Can I get you something else?”

“A refill.”

Again the false smile.  “Coming right up.”

Williams watched Doran make it up, and had the icebreaker ready when the girl returned.  “You know, I’ve got a stubborn sister too.  Three of them.  Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear.”

For a second she thought Rita would walk off, but she sighed and lowered herself onto the neighboring stool, her hands fidgeting in her lap.  “I don’t even know what to do anymore.  She gets these wild notions in her head.”

“Sarah does that sometimes, too,” Williams said with sympathy.  “You should meet some of the guys she dates.”

Rita’s laugh was more despairing than commiserating.  “I wish that were the worst of it.”

“I know the Den is a seedy place, but-“

“She’s…”  Rita glanced around, and lowered her voice.  “She’s working undercover, for C-Sec.  I begged her not to- everyone knows there’s something mean going on there- but she went anyway.  Jenna wanted to ‘do her part’, whatever that means.”

Ashley Williams was Alliance through and through.  She knew exactly what it meant.

“Does she have any training for a sting operation…?” she probed, carefully.

“Aside from a nice enough body to wear the clothes?”  Rita snorted.  “Not even a seminar.”

Williams was confused.  “So why would C-Sec even ask her?”

“I don’t know!  They needed someone with server experience, someone who’d fit in up there.  Jenna’s a good person.  She just wanted to do what she thought was right.  But it’s way too dangerous.”

Williams thought about it a moment.  “I could go down there and have a talk with her.  I’m with the Alliance- I’ve seen some things and maybe I can turn her around.”

The look she got for that was very jaded.  “No offense, but this isn’t Earth.  The Alliance doesn’t carry the same weight or command the same respect.  This place is nastier than anything they’ve got.”

She knew there was a diplomatic response in there somewhere, but she didn’t care to find it.  “Rita, I’m not some knuckle-dragging, gun-slinging gorilla or whatever the hell you people think out here.  I’ve earned distinction in every level of training I’ve received.  I serve aboard the _SSV Normandy_ under Lieutenant Commander Shepard, who you Citadel lot may recognize better as Spectre Shepard.  And last but not least I am the last surviving member of the 212 th Marine Division, most recently posted to Eden Prime.”

Rita let out a breath.  Williams didn’t allow her focus to waver.  “Can you honestly tell me you think I have no experience with dangerous situations to share with your sister?”

“Alright.  Alright.”  There was almost a real smile about Rita’s mouth now, grim, but real. “If you want to go speak with her, you’ve got my blessing, for whatever that’s worth.”

“I wasn’t doing anything anyway.”  Williams pushed away from the bar and dug through her pocket.  “How much for the drinks?”

“If you really think you can help Jenna, they’re on me.  Don’t worry about it.”

/\/\/\/\/\

The crowds at the market began to die down as lunchtime slid into early afternoon.  It never exactly quiet, not in the largest market of one of the Citadel’s most populous wards, but Shepard and Garrus managed to find the required stall without much trouble.

The Citadel took a different approach to sales than Shepard was used to.  Aboard human space stations, stores tended to be small affairs, with limited inventory, even on the large ones like Arcturus or Gagarin.  The Citadel was home to eleven million people.  It was more space-efficient to store the goods in warehouses, and same-day delivery wasn’t so much a promise as a fact.  So, instead of dedicating large amounts of floor space to shops where customers could examine and handle the merchandise, they installed small kiosks manned by no more than two sales reps and equipped with state-of-the-art holographic displays for viewing the wares. 

This particular stall specialized in armor.  It was somewhat shocking to humans decades past, when they first encountered the larger galactic community, that the Council took such a liberal view on the sale of weapons and arms.  Certainly, there were some items that remained solely in the hands of the military, because they were proprietary, or simply too dangerous, but on the whole it wasn’t even a little difficult to get kitted up.  After spending some time out in colonial space and giving it some thought, however, Shepard saw the logic.  This galaxy was too damn big, too many worlds and too many conflicts.  No fleet of any size could defend it all.  The more the Council could get people to help themselves, while maintaining an edge for the various fleets, the easier their job became.  Or maybe there was just no other way.  It was the same rationale that allowed mercenary groups to flourish with little more than the occasional wrist-slap when they poked their nose too far over the border into Council space.

Garrus, naturally, had another theory.  “It’s because everything ‘official’ is too slow.  Look at what happened on Eden Prime.  One frigate, against Saren’s war machine, that was only present by sheer coincidence?  Ridiculous.”

“Don’t you bring up Eden Prime to me,” she said sharply.  Then she rolled her eyes.  “The nearest available carrier group was three relays away.  It took them a few hours after they got our distress call.  It happens.  And nobody predicted anyone could disable comms across an entire colony.”

“Which is why every colony needs to stand on its own feet.  At the end of the day, everyone’s alone out there.  It’s true on the Citadel, it’s true in the colonies, and it’s still true on Palaven and I’d bet Earth, too.”

She shook her head with disbelief.  “You really don’t like organized government, do you.  Surprising you’d end up in Citadel Security.”

Garrus made a face.  “My dad’s choice, not mine.”

She laughed.  He gave her an odd look.  Shepard shook her head.  “We sort of have that in common.”

He started to reply, but was distracted.  “I think that’s our salarian.”

Indeed, there was a gray-skinned man fidgeting nervously at the counter of the kiosk.  His eyes darted around the market, scanning faces and occasionally the clock mounted on the far wall.  There was a word stitched onto the breast of his uniform in salarian script- _Morlan_.

They approached casually.  At first, Morlan didn’t even notice their presence.

Shepard leaned on the counter.  “Hi.”

He jumped a little.  “Hello.  Welcome to my shop.  I’m afraid we mostly carry armor for salarians and turians, but if you wait a moment I’m sure I can find someth-“

“We’re not here about that.”  Garrus kept his attention on the other shoppers, clearly anticipating an ambush.

“We’re here about Dr. Michel,” Shepard clarified.

He skittered back a step.  “She was supposed to come herself!”

Shepard smiled, not unpleasantly.  “She’s busy.”

“What do you want?”  He eyed her warily.

Before she could reply, a heavily armed krogan, yellow-skinned and green-plated, strode up to the stall.  “What’s going on here?  Where’s the doctor?”

“Not coming,” Shepard said firmly.

“Not acceptable.”  His hands rested easy around his shotgun. 

Garrus started reaching for his own weapon.  Shepard laid a hand on his arm.  “You’re just going to have to learn to live with disappointment.”

“Who the hell-“

She shoved her face into his.  “This is how it’s going to be.  You’re going to leave her alone.  For good.  No more threats, no more tattling, no more calls early in the morning.  Or your life is going to become very difficult if not impossible.  Do you hear what I’m saying?”

The krogan held his ground for a few tense moments.  She never allowed her eyes to leave his.  Krogan were predators.  She didn’t let them smell weakness.

Then he snorted, and spat on the ground.  “Have it your way.  I’m just a middleman, and I’m not being paid enough to deal with your crap.”

He spared a glare for Morlan.  “I should’ve known you’d fuck up everything.  Bringing you into this was a mistake.  I’ll make sure Banes knows that.”

Garrus gave him a smile that was not a smile.  “I think you should go now.”

The krogan spat a second time and ambled off, muttering to himself.  Garrus turned back to Morlan with an expression of sheer contempt.  The salarian quavered.  “Don’t worry, I’m going to stay out of it, too.  You have my word.”

“Damn right you are,” Shepard muttered.  They strolled away a bit, finding a quiet corner where they could call Dr. Michel and give her the good news.  She was ecstatic.  Shepard could fault her judgment- the doctor didn’t seem to have the sense a bird was born with- but she was dedicated to her calling and the people she served.  Hopefully, from here on out, she’d stay on the right side of the law.  God knew she didn’t have the instincts to survive the wrong side.

Garrus did voice one question, though, just before wrapping up the conversation.  “The krogan mentioned he worked for someone named Banes.  Ring any bells?”

“No.”  The omni-tool’s refresh was out of sync, and faint horizontal lines wavered across her face.  “Unless maybe he meant Armistan Banes.  That would make sense.  We worked together in the same clinic, the one to fire me, many years ago.  He did not approve of our supervisor’s leniency in not having my license revoked.”

The name was vaguely familiar, like someone she might have met a long time ago, and not encountered since.  Shepard leaned into the frame, concerned.  “Do you think he’ll continue pursuing this?”

“I don’t know.  He didn’t seem a petty man when I knew him.  It’s been so long, why try to embarrass me now?”

“I don’t know.  Stay safe, doctor.”  But a momentary curiosity lingered.  Maybe this had nothing to do with Dr. Michel.  Maybe someone genuinely needed those supplies- or needed some to go missing from Citadel stores.

Garrus cut the call and grimaced.  Shepard shrugged, not knowing what to do either.  “At some point she’s responsible for her own decisions, Garrus.  We can’t protect her from someone who isn’t showing his face.”

“I know.  I’d still like to go back to the station, talk to a guy I know there.  Chellick.  He handles plainclothes operations.”  They left the market and headed for a taxi stand.

“Thinking about getting her some security?”

Garrus appeared almost wistful for a moment.  “Yeah.”

“What happened to everyone needs to fend for themselves?” she asked dryly.

“Obviously it’s more complicated than that.  I was talking about communities, not individuals.  People should stand up for each other instead of waiting for bureaucrats to do it for them.”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Detective Vakarian.”  Shepard stopped walking and poked him in the chest.  “I don’t consider myself any kind of bureaucrat.  I’m a marine, I’m proud to serve, and I know I wouldn’t be as effective at my job- which, by the way, includes protecting galactic citizens- if I didn’t have the weight and resources of the Alliance behind me.”

“So you’re saying people should just stand by when-“

“I’m saying not everyone’s equipped to do that.”  She let out a sigh of exasperation.  “I’m saying that’s why they have the Alliance and C-Sec and the rest of it.  I’m saying Eden Prime happens when people like Saren start buying out of the system, not when people buy into it.”

“You can be a real jackass, Shepard.”

“So my mother keeps telling me.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Chora’s Den was back to business as usual remarkably fast.  C-Sec got the bodies cleared out and a good cleaning service did the rest.  Fist’s partners were eager that neither the name of their newly-inherited enterprise nor its profits be sullied by the incident.  The staff of bartenders, dancers, and bouncers hadn’t numbered among Fist’s mercenary protection and missed the fighting altogether.

Williams wasn’t certain how to feel about that.  Lieutenant Alenko told her what happened, in a matter-of-fact kind of way.  If the next afternoon everything could be back to normal… She wasn’t sure she wanted to live in that kind of world.  Was this what Eden Prime would be like two months or two years from now?  Everyone pretending nothing had changed, the invasion a distant memory?  And what the hell was the problem with the Citadel, that even the talking heads on the vids described the massive shoot-out in the club as gangs falling out, in bored tones eager to turn their attention to more exciting matters?  Or maybe Udina really was that good at spin control.

Williams pushed through the thrumming bass and into the club.

The bar was surprisingly popular for the time of day.  She had to wait for a group of what looked like asari tourists, tipsy all and whispering giddily to each other about their daring, to clear out before she was able to approach.  “I’m looking for Jenna?”

A young woman turned around with a questioning smile.  Her hair was slicked back and the shiny plastic magenta catsuit she was wearing couldn’t have been tighter if Fist sewed her into it.  “That would be me.  Do I know you…?”

“Not yet.”  Williams rested her forearms on the bar.  “I’m Gunnery Chief Williams, with the Alliance.”

“Yeah, I really wish you guys would stop coming in here.  The bullet holes don’t add to the ambiance, and I don’t get paid while they redecorate.”  She laid her hands flat on the counter.  “What do you want?”

She hadn’t expected open hostility, but forged ahead regardless. “I was in here a few days ago, with two of my superiors.”

“Right, root beer girl.”  Jenna laughed, picking up a glass and a rag.

“Right.”  Williams frowned.  “Look, I ran into your sister, up in Flux.  She’s really worried about you.  You don’t know what kind of guys are running this joint.”

Jenna looked down at her pointedly.  “I do know what kind people I work for, thank you very much.  And I don’t appreciate Rita hiring out some slack-jawed Alliance yokel to try to scare me into submission.”

Williams blinked, at a complete loss as to how to respond to that.  The duty spiel that she used on Rita had felt pompous even at the time.  She got the feeling Jenna would just laugh.

_Shepard would know_ , an insidious voice whispered at the back of her mind, but she shoved it back into the dark where it belonged.  Williams squared her shoulders.  “Rita knows you’re here undercover for C-Sec, Jenna.  It’s dangerous.  Maybe deadly.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  She set the glass down with enough force to rattle the others lying in their rack under the bar.  “And if you’re not going to buy anything, I’d appreciate it if you’d get out of the way.  I’m not a stripper.  I don’t get paid to stand around looking pretty.”

“You need to wake up, Jenna.  These guys don’t mess around.”

“Neither do I, Ms. Williams.”  She pierced her with a glare.  “Are you out of your mind? Get out of my bar before I have to call security.”

The chief opened her mouth, then shut it.  She shoved away from the bar.  “You know what?  Screw you.  I don’t need this.”

She stalked from the club, every step shaking with anger.  The hatch opened at her approach and shut behind her, leaving her in the barely-lit alley in front of Chora’s Den.  She took a moment to lean against the rail, rubbing her forehead.

Someone grabbed her arm and shoved her up against the wall.  She found herself staring into a turian face, painted with white markings.  “Are you crazy, Chief?”

“Who the fuck are you?”  Williams wasn’t green to self-defense, but neither was her attacker.  She found she couldn’t break his grasp.

“An interested party,” he hissed.  “You’re about to blow my whole operation and get that girl killed so you can be a hero.  You don’t deserve my name.”

She kicked, hard, and connected with his shin.  He grunted and loosened his grip, just for a moment, and she managed to squirm free.  He grabbed her arm.  Williams twisted.  “Let me go.  You don’t have any right-“

“I have every right to detain you for reckless endangerment of a C-Sec resource, interfering with an operation, and probably ten other things.  But I’m asking you to come with me.  Don’t make this hard when it could be easy.”

“Come with you where?”

“Back to C-Sec for a debrief.”  He frowned.  “It beats a formal complaint to the Alliance, particularly right now when you need the Council so very badly.  After the stunt your spectre pulled here, I suspect your ambassador has used up all his good will.”

She bit her lip.  This was way over her head, and she didn’t need a C-Sec officer to tell her that.  She’d just gotten a leg up on the ladder.  Getting knocked down a rung now because of something this stupid… Williams couldn’t bear the thought.  She nodded.  “Alright.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Chorban’s apartment consisted of two rooms coated in scrap electronics, candy bar wrappers, and datapads two years behind the current models.  In a corner a homemade VI hummed away.  Alenko stepped carefully to avoid touching anything.  “You live here?”

“I’m busy,” the salarian said defensively.  “I live in a world of ideas.”

“Ideas that don’t encompass various theories of hygiene,” Alenko observed.

“Don’t be such a… mammal.”  His nostrils flared, annoyed.  “Do you want to see my data or not?”

He followed him to the terminal near the VI, where Chorban typed in a rapid series of commands.  Alenko found a clean patch of floor to stand on and folded his arms.  “I still think you’re exaggerating.  People have lived here for thousands of years.  We can’t know nothing about the keepers.”

“We know nothing.  No, really, _we know nothing._   The keepers can access parts of the Citadel even the Council can’t.  We don’t know how they get in.  We don’t know what goes on there.  How do they reproduce?  We don’t know.  We’ve never seen any young, or any old or any sexual differentiation for that matter.  Do they even die?  There’s never been a dead one found other than the ones we’ve killed.  How do they communicate?  Do they communicate?  What-“

“Alright.”  Alenko held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.  “I understand your point.  But why get involved in this?  Maybe you’re right and the scanning doesn’t do any harm, but I’m certain C-Sec won’t make the distinction.”

Chorban pursed his lips.  “I’ve been interested in their habits since I was a child.  I was raised on the Citadel.  But it was my… colleague who realized that the medical scanners from Sirta Technologies could be modified to evaluate the keepers quickly and non-invasively.  We use them in our lab at work.  So we came up with the idea to construct a database.”

“And Sirta Technologies was ok with you reworking their technology for this study?”  Alenko raised his eyebrows.

“We… didn’t exactly ask.”  Hurriedly, he typed in another command and swiveled the terminal towards Alenko.  “Here, take a look.”

Despite himself, he leaned towards the screen with ample curiosity.  This couldn’t have looked like a worse idea if Chorban painted it in giant red letters across his doorway, but Alenko didn’t agree with the Council either.  Sure, the keepers were essential to maintaining the Citadel, but that didn’t mean a total embargo on information was the appropriate means of preservation.  Knowing was always better than not knowing. 

The data were as intriguing as the salarian promised.  There were low levels of electromagnetic radiation associated with the keepers, spiking at random intervals, almost as if they were using it to talk- but using every translation algorithm Chorban could dig up, it still just looked like static.  There were also a number of suspicious dark energy signatures that increased marginally in the proximity of the keepers relative to the Citadel background, which wasn’t high to begin with.  “They don’t have anything going on, biotically-speaking, right?”

“Strange theory.  I hadn’t considered that.”  Chorban rubbed his chin.  “Nobody’s every observed it.  But, as I’ve said…”

“Nobody knows anything.”

“Right.”

Alenko looked back at the data.  If the keepers had any biotic potential… If they were secretly, privately, speaking with each other…   The essential question was why.  Did they have an agenda?  Did they care that the many species of the galaxy had taken over their home, or treated them like furniture?  Were they engineered by the Protheans when they built the station? 

Alenko glanced at Chorban, who was wearing a very serious expression.  “This could be huge.”

“Tell me about it.”  The salarian crossed his arms, echoing Alenko’s posture. 

Alenko made a decision.  It was a bad one.  Curiosity would be the death of him.  “What do you need?”

“Help.”  The word was expelled on a fuel of exasperation mixed with desperation.  “I have a job, you know.  If my employer knew what my partner and I were doing, that we’d… borrowed things from the lab…”

“Wait, what?”

Chorban ignored the interruption.  He paced the room, ticking off objections on his fingers.  “I just don’t have the time to get the kind of coverage that we need.  You’re with the Alliance and you’re not a resident.  You work for a spectre.  People are going to ignore what you do unless it’s really egregious.  If you could just take one of the scanners we built, just collect some data when you have time-“

Alenko looked around the shithole apartment with the homebrew tech and gave some serious reconsideration to his recent life decisions.  “I don’t know.”

“I’ll share all our findings with you,” he pressed.  “What you do with them is up to you.  I don’t care about the profit in this.  I just want to understand what’s going on in my home.”

He had a bad feeling about this.  The kind of feeling that left a sour taste on his tongue and a knot in his gut.  Still… it was too intriguing to pass up.  He rationalized it as not really doing anything wrong.  The Alliance didn’t give a damn about the keepers one way or the other.  “You understand I don’t actually spend that much time on the Citadel.”

Chorban brightened.  “So you’ll do it.”

“Just give me the damn scanner.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Chellick barely looked up from his desk as Shepard and Garrus walked into his office.  “Detective.  Commander.”

Williams was standing at attention against the wall.  Shepard glanced between her and Chellick.  “What the hell is going on here?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”  The turian folded his hands on his desk.  “I find one of your underlings actively interfering with my investigation into Chora’s Den, not even twenty four hours after you storm the place, again without any oversight or permission.  If you’d been here longer, I’d assume you had a vested interest in limiting C-Sec presence in that particular club.  And you, Vakarian- I thought you’d have learned your lesson the last dozen times.”

“Interfering?”  Shepard was livid.  “All I see is you detaining one of my marines, in your personal office.  If you have legitimate grounds there are channels for this kind of thing.”

“Do you really want me to explore those channels, Commander?”  Chellick was unamused.  “She nearly blew an informant’s cover in the middle of the location under surveillance.  I have every right.  I’m merely surprised that you responded so quickly.”

Belatedly, Shepard noticed her message light was blinking on her omni-tool.  “Coincidence.”

“It’s Dr. Michel again.  She could use a little watching over,” Garrus said. 

The attempt to change the subject failed.  Shepard looked over at Williams.  “Chief, is this true?”

“I don’t know what to say.”  Williams swallowed.  “I was just trying to help this girl I met.”

“You interrupted an investigation?”

“She walked right up to my informant and outed her.”

Shepard was flabbergasted.  “What were you thinking?”

“I… I don’t think I was.  Ma’am.”  Her eyes were fixed straight ahead.  “She’s a bartender in Chora’s Den.  I told her sister I’d try to get her out of there.  It’s a dangerous place.”

“But she’s an undercover C-Sec agent. “  Shepard tried to be reasonable despite her depleted patience.  “She’s had training.”

“No, ma’am, she hasn’t.  C-Sec plucked her out of another bar because they needed someone who would fit in.”

Shepard glanced over her shoulder at Chellick.  “Is that correct?”

He met her inquiry with a glare.  “She volunteered.  Jenna knew the risks.  We didn’t sugarcoat it.”

“I was only trying to do the right thing, ma’am.”  Williams knew she screwed up, but she refused to resort to pleading.  She had a defeated air- like she knew punishment was coming and was already cringing away from the blow.

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“God damn it, Ash,” she said, more to herself than anyone else, without much rancor. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am?”  Her brow wrinkled.

“I’m beginning to understand why your career stalled out at NCO rank.”  Shepard overrode Williams’ immediate objections.  “You’re borderline insubordinate, you don’t respect your officers or your crewmates, you let your mouth run entirely unchecked, and you go off on your own without pausing to think it through.”

By now, Williams’ face was burning.  She opened her mouth again.  Shepard raised an eyebrow.  She shut it. 

“Good.  For once, you’re using your head.”  Shepard turned back to Chellick, and asked, calmly.  “So, what is it going to take to get this Jenna out of there?”

Everyone stared at her for a silent, startled moment.  Garrus started to laugh.

“I’m not certain I heard you correctly, Commander.”  Chellick was nonplussed.

“What do you need to wrap up Jenna’s part in your investigation?”

“I…”  He blinked, clearly at a loss for words.  “There have been some troubling arms sales recently, in illegal weapon mods.  We think the initial meet-ups are happening at the Den, which is why I needed someone on the inside.  These guys are jumpier than jackrabbits.  I need to ID the seller so I can start tracing the shipments back.”

Shepard nodded.  “So I get you a name, you extract her.  Deal?”

“If you can get me a name, I can do better than that.  I’ve been trying for five months.”

Garrus was still grinning.  “You are an entirely surprising person, Commander.”

“Agreed.”  Chellick couldn’t decide whether to frown or laugh.  He shook his head.  “Detective, stick around a few minutes and we’ll discuss these protections for your Dr. Michel.  Among other indiscretions.”

Garrus grimaced, but took a seat in front of the desk.  “Thanks again, Shepard.”

Shepard knew a dismissal when she heard one.  She collected Chief Williams and left the station. 

Williams half-jogged to keep up.  “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t thank me.”  Shepard was still furious, and she let it show.  “What you did was stupid and reckless, and could have gotten the Alliance in a lot of trouble at a time when we need the Council’s good will, not to mention expose that girl to a world of hurt.”

Williams made a disgusted noise.  “Why not just leave me to rot then, if my judgment is so bad?  Seems like it would solve more than one of your problems.”

Shepard whirled on the spot.  Williams nearly collided with her.  “I don’t roll on my marines.  You’re my crew.  As far as I’m concerned, the only person who gets to kick your ass is me.  Not some turian officer from Citadel Security with a burr in his craw.”

They resumed walking.  Williams was silent a few minutes as she processed that.  Tentatively, and a little less defensive, she said, “Ok.  But there wasn’t any reason to help me out.”

Her commander sighed.  “Just because you were using your heart instead of your brain doesn’t mean you’re wrong.  Justifying the use of civilians as undercover operatives is amateur hour.”

They arrived at a taxi stand and summoned a cab.  Shepard directed it towards the commercial docking bay, much to Williams’ confusion.  She didn’t bother to explain.

Her hunch panned out, and she found Wrex waiting in departures without too much trouble.  He stood as soon as he saw her and shoved his snout in her face.  “Give me one reason I shouldn’t pull my shotgun and blow your lying head clear off.”

“Because I did you a favor, Wrex.”  She put her arm out to stop Williams from doing anything stupid.  “And because I’m a faster draw.”

“Explain.  If I don’t like what I hear, we’ll see about the second claim.”

Shepard rolled her eyes.  “C’mon.  You’re not a fool.  This isn’t some backwater planet.  This is the Citadel!  Did you really believe you’d get away with a very public hit on a mark with as many connections as Fist?  I sent him packing and cut him off from his allies, when I could have stolen your contract quite easily instead.”

Wrex eyed her.  Her expression was very dry.  Finally, he leaned back, relaxing, and crossed his arm.  “You’ve got a quad, human.  Easy to believe you’re a spectre.  Hard to believe you’re a female, though.”

“Charming.”  She smiled thinly.  “Maybe your women are just sick of dealing with your crap, Wrex.”

He snorted, but she thought she saw a smile hidden beneath the gruff reply.  He said, “I’m guessing you didn’t come out here to tell me this.  What do you need, Shepard?”

She got right to the point.  “I’m trying to track down a seller of illegal weapon mods.  Who better to ask than a merc?”

“Hah.  I might know something.”  Now there was definitely a smile.  “But I want something, too.”

“Tell me and I’ll think about it.”

“You lost me Fist.”  He stabbed a finger into her chest armor.  “You’re going to help me find him again.”

“I’m not an assassin, Wrex.  And I’m tracking Saren.  I’m not going to allow anything to interfere with that.”

“You can keep your fussy morals.  I’ll be pulling the trigger.”  He rubbed his chin.  “And as for Saren, I’ve got my own beef with him.  I wouldn’t mind bringing him down.”

Shepard folded her arms and gave the offer due consideration.  On the one hand, she wasn’t entirely comfortable bringing an alien mercenary soldier onto a classified Alliance frigate, let alone shill for him.  But on the other, he seemed to know something about Saren, and she wasn’t in a position to turn down new leads.  And then there was Williams, whose face was tight and drawn, waiting.  Shepard had no inkling why rescuing this girl was so important to her, nor why she was humoring the notion.  Maybe it was simply the need right now to do something tangible- for both of them.  All this waiting and research got under her skin.

“Agreed,” she said.  “Give me a name.”

“You want Jax,” he answered promptly.  “He’s a krogan arms dealer.  I might’ve done some business with him awhile back.  I’ll even set up a meeting.”

“You do that.”  Shepard waited, foot tapping, while Wrex spoke quietly into his omni-tool. 

The conversation was brief.  It wasn’t even five minutes before he closed out the call and looked up.  “Lower market, thirty minutes.  See you on your boat, Shepard.”

They chose to walk, to give their legs a bit of a stretch.  Every species with representation on the Citadel had a designated docking area, so it was a simple matter to find a path from the krogan bay back down to the Presidium ring.  Along the way, they ran into Alenko, who was carrying some kind of strange plastic device.

Upon spotting them, he paused and straightened.  “Ma’am.”

“Lieutenant.”  She pointed towards the device with her chin.  “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I believe it.”  She shook her head.  “You might as well come with.  I wouldn’t mind an extra set of eyes on this one.”

He fell into step.  “Where are we going?”

“Lower markets.  We’re giving C-Sec a helping hand.  Williams’ idea.”  Shepard held up a hand to forestall the obvious question.  “It’s another long story.  I’ll explain later.  For now, suffice to say we’re meeting a potential hostile and I’m not sure how it’s going to play out.”

Jax wasn’t hard to spot.  Even among krogan he stood out, with brilliant blue head plating and a smug scowl that could outdo even Wrex.  They found him leaning against a pile of shipping crates, flanked by two associates.

He recognized her immediately as Shepard approached.  “Hah.  Wrex said to expect someone important.  Sooner or later everyone comes to me, even spectres, but you must hit the ground running.”

“I didn’t come here to talk.”  Shepard lifted her chin.

“Fair enough.”  He gestured at his companion.  “You got my payment?”

She raised an eyebrow and didn’t disguise her sarcasm.  “Depends.  You got my mods?”

He grunted and the underling tossed her a package.  She made a show of inspecting the contents and tried not to look taken aback by what she saw.  Even in spec ops, polonium and chemical rounds were prohibited on the basis of being over-the-top to the point of offensive. 

“Satisfied?” he asked.  There was a hint of smugness about him, as if he sensed that he’d surprised her. 

Shepard handed the package to Alenko and pulled up her omni-tool to make the credit transfer.  “Very.”

Covertly, it also recorded a few images of Jax and his associates that she hoped might be of use to Chellick.  Jax gave her a single, sparing nod after the transaction cleared, and disappeared back into the market crowd.

Shepard waited until he vanished to let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.  She nodded at Williams.  “Let Chellick know we have his name, and his goods.  He can shake your friend loose.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  She started searching the Citadel directory.  “I’m still shocked nobody died.”

“I could shoot somebody if it would make you feel better,” Alenko offered.  Shepard stifled a laugh.

Williams pretended to consider it.  “Nah, I’m good.”

Shepard stole a glance at the time.  “If people wonder why the Alliance never gets anything done, it’s because of days like this.  Let’s head back to base.”


	14. The Spectre Ceremony

Shepard waved away the brush-wielding asari with rather more aggression than the last time.  The girl teetered on her heels to avoid the swipe and nearly tripped over her flared skirt.  “Ma’am, please-“

“I’ve told you twelve times I can do my own damn make-up,” Shepard growled.  She was sitting in a tiny room in the depths of the Presidium Tower, trying to make herself presentable for the induction ceremony scheduled to begin shortly.  It would be going rather better if not for the half dozen people who stopped by to express an interest in her hair, wardrobe, cosmetics, shoes, even her posture.  She hit it on the nose, talking to Anderson several evenings past- this was entirely political.  All spectacle and little substance.

At least she managed to talk the Alliance protocol officer out of whites.  Shepard didn’t own a set, and the two times in her life she had to wear them she came out looking like a roll of paper towels.  If there was any upside to this spectre business, it was going to be wearing what she damn well pleased while representing the office. 

They compromised on dress blues.  With just about every medal she’d ever been awarded hanging off the sash she usually didn’t wear at all, but Shepard counted it a win. 

The asari bravely made another attempt.  “Commander Shepard, ma’am, broadcast is different from daily wear.”

Shepard snorted.  “They could’ve had anyone.  They picked me.  You think I haven’t been on the vids before?”

There was a knock on the door.  Anderson stuck his head inside.  “Do you have a moment?”

“Yep, we’re all done here.”  Shepard tried not to laugh as the woman swore under her breath and stormed from the room.  She took up the abandoned angle brush and started to undo the damage.  “What can I do for you, sir?”

He leaned against the wall and folded his arms, watching her tamper with her eye shadow.  “You look…”

“What?”

He chuckled.  “Ready.”

“Well, I’d better be.”  She crossed her legs under her skirt and turned towards him.  “Seriously, what did you want to talk about?”

His face turned serious.  “What kind of leads have you picked up?  I don’t need to tell you the Traverse is a huge place, with hundreds of known worlds where Saren could be hiding, to say nothing of the unknown worlds.  We could use something to let the Council know we’re on top of it, straight out of the gate.”

“Right.”  She started to rub her face, then recalled the vid-qualified pancake, and tapped her fingers on the desk instead.  “I don’t know.  I’ve been pulling every bit of info I can on Benezia.  She bought a… well, what we’d call a condo, in Serrice, but kept her larger residence in Armali and never moved in.”

“I don’t see the significance.  It’s not unusual for a person of a matriarch’s stature to maintain several homes.”

Shepard sat back.  “I think she bought it for her daughter.  The only way it could be closer to the university is if you pitched a tent in the gardens.  The woman in question is an archaeologist, junior faculty.”

Anderson’s frown deepened, but there was excitement as well.  “Don’t tell me-“

“Specialty- Prothean civilization.”  It was an inappropriate topic for a smile, but Shepard allowed herself a sense of satisfaction.  “Scientists aren’t military, sir.  They talk all the time.  Say one of ours collaborated with T’Soni.  Next thing you know, Saren’s on their doorstep.  It fits.”

“T’Soni?” Anderson pronounced the name correctly, accent and all.  That wasn’t usual for English native speakers, not on the first try.  “Not Dr. Liara T’Soni?”

It was Shepard’s turn to be surprised.  “You know her?”

“We extended her a six-month contract in anticipation of recovering the beacon.  We didn’t give specifics, but...”  The captain was troubled.  “I don’t think we gave her enough to tip off Saren with a location.”

Shepard set down the brush and leaned forward.  “So you know where she is?”

A smile.  He gestured towards her arm.  Managing not to roll her eyes too much, she activated her omni-tool and held it out to him.  She had a larger-than-usual scar over the implant site; having it hastily and forcibly removed would do that.  “Still no plans to join the twenty-second century, sir?”

“Too complicated for an old man, and too exploitable.”  He leaned forward and entered a set of coordinates Shepard recognized as the Artemis Tau cluster.  “Upload those to the _Normandy_ map when you get back on ship.”

She couldn’t resist another light jab.  “You don’t seem to mind that comm link buried in your ear.”

“A useful evil.”  He grimaced faintly.  “Also non-optional in the eyes of Alliance High Command.”

The hatch slid open again and an asari, a different one, leaned her head inside.  Asari were blue-skinned and possessed elegant, bony crenellations swept back from their foreheads where humans had hair.  This one had painted bright magenta stripes down the length of hers.  “We’re on in five.  The Council appreciates punctuality.”

Shepard took a deep breath and stood, tugging on her jacket to straighten it.  She offered Anderson a salute, not untinged with cynicism.

He returned it, and offered his hand.  “You’re ready.  Good luck, Commander.”

Traveling the short distance to the council chamber was less eventful than she feared.  The press was confined to the balconies, and C-Sec was enforcing the seating assignments with more-than-usual gravity.  There wasn’t much room on the small landing before the walkway into the center of the chamber, where several days past she’d proven Saren a liar and a traitor, but what space existed was allocated to Citadel and Alliance dignitaries alike.  Udina sat beside a pair of admirals Shepard didn’t recognize on sight, sour-faced.  She nodded.  He sneered.  It was par for the course.

The asari protocol officer took her arm at the walkway, stalling her.  “Wait here.”

She darted off into the crowd, datapad firmly in hand, already gesturing towards an assistant.

Shepard leaned against the rail, at ease, arms folded, and scanned the balconies.  The press quadrant was easy to spot- half a million flashes went off every time she so much as glanced their way.  She averted her eyes to save them roasting in their sockets.  A decent turnout thronged the remaining space, peppered with more aliens than she expected. 

She’d done a little digging purely out of idle curiosity.  It was impossible to be certain given the secretive nature of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance, but of roughly a hundred estimated living operatives, Shepard found only three names aside from her own in public mentions of spectres that were not turian, asari, or salarian.   The most recent was appointed twelve years ago.  This was a goddamn carnival.  Everyone with enough clout to get a seat was curious.

Anderson and Udina had sprinkled the crowds with as many Alliance as they could, for which she was strangely grateful.  It made this ceremony feel more like just another commendation instead of a political maneuver that would ricochet across several civilizations and radically change her life.

With N7, she had time to think through things.  Years, in fact.  Shepard was invited to Interplanetary Combatives Training before she could drink a beer in her parents’ home country, for all that countries meant anything these days.  Seventy percent of the recruits in her N1 cadre washed out.  She’d loved it.  For the first time in her life, all the things that were problematic about her, the ferocity, aggression, fearlessness, the misapplied creativity and talent for thinking her way out of just about any situation- finally, they had a constructive purpose.  Her high school counselors and her drill sergeant agreed on exactly one thing.  Shepard’s aptitude had never matched her achievement.  Until spec ops. 

It was a good marriage.  Alliance Command gave her the boundaries and discipline she desperately needed, and she gave them the outside the box thinking they required.  By the time she picked up that shiny new helmet with its N7 insignia, she knew exactly what it meant, and precisely what it had and would cost her.  The exchange was fair.  Now… she had no idea. 

And she was eager enough for the free reign the spectres offered to worry her.  How much had she grown up, really?  Enough to handle that kind of responsibility, with at least a measure of self-control?

The noise from the crowd died down, interrupting her musing.  Their murmuring faded into silence.  The chamber took on an expectant air. 

She turned towards the walkway.  At the far end, across the void that stretched down to a garden far below, the councilors fussed at their terminals.  They were framed by a long window running the height of the wall behind them, bright with artificial sunshine.  It had the look of a cathedral. 

Councilor Tevos looked up.  “Commander Shepard, step forward.”

Shepard cleared her throat, tugged at her tunic again, and started across the bridge.

The walk from the stair to the Council took half a lifetime.  She could hear every click of her shoes against the floor, every breath loud in her ears.  For all her deeds, all her notoriety, all her complaints about grandstanding, for all that pointless ceremony was boringly familiar, there was an unexpected and inescapable weight to this moment that made her blood pound. 

High up in their nest, the reporters’ cameras flashed and whirred, incessantly voracious, like she owed them something of her life, of herself.  Fucking cannibals, all of them.

She reached the circular platform at the end of the walkway.  Shepard drew herself to attention, and waited. 

Tevos let the silence hang a few moments longer before launching into her prepared remarks.  “You have come before us for consideration for promotion to Special Tactics and Reconnaissance, the first of your species to be granted this honor.”

She paused then, as though for comment, so Shepard flowed her hands behind her back and lifted her chin.  “Yes, ma’am.”

“It is the decision of this Council that you be granted all the powers and privileges of a spectre of the Citadel.”  If anything, Shepard’s stoicism seemed to have won her some credit in Tevos’ eyes.  There was a measure of approval in her tone.

Councilor Valern, the salarian, took up the thread.  “Spectres are not trained, but chosen.  Individuals forged in the fire of service and those whose actions elevate them above the rank and file.  These qualities are blind to race and philosophy alike, and transcend the experiences that brought you here.”

His eyes were black, unblinking, as they weighed her.  She felt herself stand a little taller. 

Tevos continued, “Spectres are an ideal, a symbol.  The embodiment of courage, determination, and self-reliance.  They are the right hand of the Council, instruments of our will.”

“Spectres bear a great burden.”  The final councilor, the turian Sparatus, had a gaze which pierced her.  “They are protectors of galactic peace, both our first and last line of defense.  The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold.  This is a great accomplishment and a great responsibility, for you and your entire species.”

Shepard bowed.  “I’m honored, Councilors.”

“As you should be.”  Again, that approval in Tevos’ voice.  It was a subtle diplomacy, as much a manipulation as anything else.  Clearly, one didn’t become the asari councilor without some useful skills.  “I understand it is a human tradition to raise your right hand at this point in our ceremonies.”

Shepard held her hand beside her head, fingers together, and waited.

“Lieutenant Commander Nathaly Shepard,” the asari said, raising her voice until it reached every corner of the chamber.  “Do you so swear here today to conduct yourself as a worthy agent of this Council, to abide by the principles that have governed our galactic civilization for millennia, and to act always in our name with respect, consideration, and morality?”

“I will.”  Shepard held her expression firm.

“And do you so swear to do all that is in your power as a human, as a spectre, as a representative of galactic authority, to maintain the peace and prosperity that has graced our many peoples all these long years?”

“I will.”

“Then it is my great privilege to name you, Commander Shepard, as a member of the highest echelons of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance, with all the benefits that title carries.”  The Councilor allowed herself a smile then.  “May the goddess grant you wisdom and strength to do the office the honor it deserves.”

Tevos turned towards her colleague.  There was the ghost of a smile on Valern’s lips.  “Congratulations, Commander.”

Shepard bowed again.  The entire chamber burst into thunderous applause.

/\/\/\/\/\

Two levels up, Lieutenant Alenko and Gunnery Chief Williams leaned over the balcony and watched Shepard bow a second time amidst the dying applause, murmuring the appropriate reassurance that she intended treat her new role with all due gravity.  Williams was awed despite herself.  This was history happening right in front of her eyes.

She leaned forward, craning her neck for a better view.  “She looks good.  Confident.”

Alenko was more relaxed, his chin balanced in his hand as he took in the same scene.  “She always looks good.”

The quarian, Tali, paced towards the rear of the patio, her slender arms folded across the belly of her suit.  Shepard wanted her kept under strict surveillance, for her own protection, and thus far Tali seemed more grateful than annoyed.  Getting shot could do that to a person.  She glanced up at the marines.  “What happens now?”

“Now, we go back to the _Normandy_ and get to work.”  Alenko continued watching the ceremony.  “Finding Saren’s going to be a lot harder than a needle in a haystack.”

Tali looked at him blankly.  “What’s a ‘haystack’?”

He chuckled.  “Never mind.  It’ll be challenging, that’s all I was trying to say.”

Far below, the Council filed out as Shepard walked back across the bridge, where Anderson waited with the ambassador and a handful of other notables.  They exchanged salutes before he shook her hand with a pride that was obvious even two stories up. 

Williams glanced at Alenko.  “Is it true that the captain’s giving up the ship?”

“That’s the scuttlebutt.”  He shrugged.  “It makes sense.  Balancing the Council against Alliance Command is going to be difficult enough without having a superior officer breathing down her neck.  But it’s still a real blow the captain, after all the work he put into the _Normandy_.”

Tali was working towards the end of a thought.  “You should bring me with you.”

“What?”  Williams was taken aback.  Even Alenko finally tore himself away from the view, raising his eyebrows.

Tali squared her shoulders and fidgeted with her hands, nervously.  “Saren tried to kill me twice.  I have as much a right to go after him as any of you.  And the geth were created by my people- our mistake, our problem.  It would dishonor us if I did not do all I can to make up for what happened to your colony.”

“It’s an Alliance ship-“ Williams began hotly, but Alenko held out a hand to quiet her.

Looking back at Tali, he said, “You’re the only person we’ve met who has information on the geth that isn’t three hundred years out of date.  That data could be very helpful.”

She nodded.  “I am willing to share whatever I can.  The flotilla is not… trusting of other species, not since our embassy was closed, but I am certain I can make them see the urgency.”

“Why is that?  I’m sorry, Miss Zorah, but if I understand correctly you’re not even an adult among your people.  What kind of influence could you have?”  There was nothing accusatory in Alenko’s question, just frank curiosity.

“That is true, but…”  The mask hid her expression, but the hesitation was obvious.  “My father does.  He doesn’t always listen to me, but I can try.”

Williams grabbed his arm.  “L.T., you’re not serious.  The _Normandy’s_ classified.  She’s representing an alien government.  We can’t allow her aboard.”

Alenko was uncharacteristically stern.  “The _Normandy_ was a joint project sponsored in part by the Council.  I’m not unsympathetic to your concerns, but we could use an expert on the geth.  I’m taking it to the commander.”

She crossed her arms, sullen.  “Yes, sir.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Anderson offered his congratulations, and then left Shepard to her own devices.  She’d give the Council this much- they knew how to host an event.  As soon as the ceremony was complete, food and drink appeared in the tower gardens as if by magic.  The guests soon dispersed along the pathways, breaking into smaller cliques to talk politics or gossip depending on their tastes. 

Udina seized her immediately and led her through the crowd with expert skill.  She managed to snag the most innocuous of the canapés, what looked like a small nut tart, to have something to do with her hands while he introduced her to a few dozen of his closest friends.  Her brain took snapshots while she smiled and nodded until she thought her face might fall off.  Shepard possessed an excellent memory, particularly for names and faces, and it was possible that the ambassador’s contacts might prove useful, someday. 

Nevertheless, she felt the beginnings of a headache by the time he finally cut her loose.  A passing server offered her a glass of water and she took it gratefully.  It had a light citrus note she couldn’t quite identify, but it was pleasant enough.

Before she could enjoy more than a sip, she was approached by an Alliance officer, older, hair gone to gray and cut close to his head, with a bit of a paunch evident under his uniform.  Though he did his level best to seem relax, concern was written in every line of his face.  Shepard noted the stripes on his shoulders and saluted.  “Admiral.”

He returned the salute.  “At ease, Commander.  I’m glad to see you still remember whose side you’re on.  Allow me to offer my congratulations.”

“Thank you, sir.”  The suspicion rankled less the tenth time she heard it.  She took another sip.  The cold water was like nectar to a throat that ached from talking.

He plunged right in.  “Commander, I came over here to ask a favor.”

_You and everyone else at this party,_ she thought.  “I wasn’t required to leave the Alliance, sir.  You don’t have to make it a request.”

“I do, actually.”  He cleared his throat.  “I’m Rear Admiral Kahoku, commander of the Fourth Frontier Division.  I have a squad of marines missing in the Traverse on the edge of batarian space.”

_Dark.  Cold.  Quiet.  A whisper of air from the circulation vents.  Nobody had talked in days.  What was there to say?  Hard synthetic seat, digging into her shoulders, but she didn’t move away._

Shepard swallowed the unwanted memory in another gulp of water, and made a polite noise of sympathy.  “Sounds bad.”

“It was a recon mission.  Classified.  The Alliance is writing it off as a loss because they don’t want to provoke the batarians, and I’m getting stonewalled by bureaucracy when I came here to ask for Citadel aid.”  His frustration was apparent. 

Shepard raised her eyebrows.  “You went around Alliance Command and told the Council about a sensitive op?”

As an N7 operative, she was aware that on most missions, failure meant she was on her own.  The Alliance couldn’t risk all-out war with the Terminus, the batarians, or any other splinter sect for the sake of a handful of marines.  Especially when it came to the Batarian Hegemony and their hard-won ceasefire.  Even when Command hung her out to dry she never resented them for it, not even the times that should have killed her, including the one at the front of her mind just now.  Too many people were dead already.

“No,” he said impatiently.  “Of course not.  I told them it was a survey team.  Our treaties with the Citadel require them to render aid to peaceful vessels in distress.”

She sidestepped the issue for the moment.  “What were your men doing out there?  For real, I mean.”

Kahoku pursed his lips.  “Several months ago, a special operative from the Intelligence Ministry by the name of Armistan Banes went missing in the Traverse.  That’s suspicious in itself.  Then his body turned up on a derelict ship in the Artemis Tau cluster- frozen solid and not a mark on him.”

“Banes?”  She blinked, surprised.  If he was with SAMI, that explained the lack of recognition when Michel mentioned him.  She’d crossed paths with their gremlins before, but rarely- and unpleasantly.

“You know him?  How?”  Kahoku shook his head.  “Never mind.  I learned awhile back that I never want to ask how you N7 types know anything.  Banes was as foul as they come.  We suspected him of selling information before he vanished, but we had no idea to whom.  I sent in a squad to investigate.”

“And now they’re missing, too.  And you want to continue the row of dominos by sending in my team.”  Shepard was not amused.  “Your marines are gone, Admiral.  I’m sorry.”

“You can’t know that.”  His expression was pained.  It was clear he cared a great deal for his men, and took their welfare personally.  It did him credit.  “What if their ship was disabled, like Banes’?  What if they’re just drifting alone out there…”

He trailed off.  This was the universal nightmare of sailors of any era.  Ships stranded between ports, whether on the oceans of ages past or the reaches of the interstellar void, were utterly helpless.  No matter how strict the rations, how inspired the repairs, how disciplined the crew, eventually, resources ran out. 

_She sat in the hard seat, trying to ignore the gnawing of her gut, and watched the blip on the nav display inch closer to the white line and the safety it offered.  This far into space there was little to stop them.  One way or another, they’d cross back into Alliance territory.  Eventually.  She stared at the dot as if the intensity of her gaze could substitute for a busted drive core._

Her eyes narrowed suddenly, searching his face, but she found only earnest concern.  This wasn’t exploitative.  Her prior mission was as classified as they came, and this Rear Admiral Kahoku had no way of knowing his tact struck entirely too close to home. 

Reluctantly, Shepard said, “I’m headed in that direction anyway, as it happens.  I’ll keep an eye out for your men.”

The man actually sagged a little bit in relief.  “That’s all I’m asking.”

“I can’t promise anything,” she warned.

“I know.”  He held out his hand.  “Thank you, Commander.”

She shook it, and let him go.  The festivities were clearly winding down.  At this juncture, a discreet exit would not be taken as rude. 

Alenko was the first officer she came across, standing in an alcove with Williams and several more of the _Normandy’s_ marine detail, having their own private celebration.  She was faintly annoyed.  It didn’t seem fair that they got to have all the fun while she had to endure two hours’ worth of diplomatic posturing, when she was the entire reason they were there.  And she didn’t like it when her memories came back to haunt her.  It put her on edge.

“Attention!” she snapped.

Instantly, all of the marines were on their feet, while Tali gazed around in confusion.  Shepard allowed herself a half-second’s smug satisfaction.  “Party’s over.  We’ve got a traitor to catch.”

Salutes all around.  She nodded to Alenko.  “I don’t know where the hell Pressly is, so I want you to get on the comm and tell the rest of the crew to get their asses back aboard ship.  I want us pulling out of port in one hour.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”  He turned away, pulling up his omni-tool to sync the comm links before putting his fingers to his ear to speak.

Shepard looked around the remainder of the detail, still stiffly at attention.  “You have your orders.  Dismissed.”

They filed out, with more hustle than was usual.  She smiled.

Naturally, Williams didn’t follow.  “If I can have a moment, ma’am.”

“Did I stutter, Chief?”

“No, ma’am.”  She quavered slightly.  “It’s about the quarian.”

“My name is Tali,” she cut in, exasperated, for only the tenth time.

Shepard gave the quarian a glance.  “What about her?”

Alenko finished relaying her orders and turned back to the group.  “She wants to come with us.  Her advice on the geth could be invaluable.”

“I’m concerned about the _Normandy’s_ security, ma’am,” Williams interjected.  “Quarians are known for their curiosity.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”  Her withering look pinned Williams to the spot. 

The girl swallowed.  “It doesn’t mean anything.  I was just saying, it’s a classified ship, and we might want to think about who we let poke around.  Ma’am.”

Tali’s posture was disdainful, and disgusted.  “You’re afraid I’m going to- we’re not thieves!”

“Your concern is noted, Williams.”  Her eyes cut back to Tali and she extended her hand.  “Welcome aboard.  Anyone willing to help us figure out what Saren’s after is a welcome ally.”

Williams took a step forward.  “Ma’am-“

“I said your concern is noted.”  Her tone was cold enough to condense hydrogen.  “Are you really going to lecture _me_ on security, Chief?”

She shook her head.  “No, ma’am.”

“Dismissed.”  Shepard watched Williams stalk away until she was out of hearing range, and turned to Alenko, livid and not bothering to disguise it.  “As the marine detail commander, I consider her your problem.”

Judging by his expression, he was about as happy with Williams’ conduct as Shepard herself.  “I’ll take care of it.”

“See that you do.”  She jerked her head towards the exit.  “You should both go take care of any last-minute business.  I’ll meet you by the dock in thirty.”

Shepard decided to take one last walk around the Presidium, digging through her pockets for a cigarette.  The lake calmed her nerves as she gathered her thoughts.  There was no time to absorb the magnitude of her new position.  There never was.  She had to focus on the mission at hand.

In truth, she wasn’t too concerned about Chief Williams.  There was nothing wrong with her a few weeks of scrubbing bathrooms until she learned to mind her mouth wouldn’t fix.  T’Soni presented a much larger problem.  The _Normandy_ didn’t have a brig, for starters.

Despite the mythology surrounding special operations, Shepard wasn’t trained in interrogation and was, in fact, repulsed by the idea.  She’d been subject to those tactics herself- not to mention they rarely led to reliable information.  But neither Shepard nor her ship was prepared to take Dr. T’Soni into custody if she proved recalcitrant.  It was the only lead they had- there was no choice but to follow it, even if she had no idea how this was going to play out when they got there.  When they found the asari, Shepard would simply have to do whatever was required, and all she could do for now was hope it wouldn’t come to anything like that.

The beacon visions weren’t making any more sense.  Every time she tried to focus on any portion of it, pin it down, extract some kind of useful information, it slithered out of her grasp.  It was like trying to watch the stars.  The second she looked directly at one, it vanished into the blind spot of her eye.  She could only see anything by looking indirectly.  Except in her dreams.  Shepard hadn’t slept well in years, but this was altogether something else. 

At the same time, it was like an annoying song stuck in her head, for days on end now, replaying itself until she was sick to death of it.  It was turning her brain to mush. 

She was coming up on the mass relay sculpture, one of the treasures of the Presidium and one of the few pieces of art left from the Protheans.  Most of the statuary was added later, as monuments to the accomplishments of a later people from another time.  Though the relays possessed elegant aesthetics something about the sculpture made her uneasy, a faint buzzing in her skull, like an insect she couldn’t swat away. 

In a moment’s childish impulse, she stuck her tongue out at it.

“Commander Shepard?”

Shepard whirled, caught off guard and faintly embarrassed, smoke trailing from the lit cigarette in her hand.  A petite woman in a black suit was watching her with bemusement.  Her shoulder-length black hair was stylishly cut, olive skin flawlessly made up.  She clutched a datapad and a camera drone hovered at one shoulder.  “Commander Shepard, I’m Mary Mabry.  I was hoping I might trouble you for a few questions.”

“Mabry?”  She finally placed the name.  It’d been years.  “You did the documentary on Akuze.”

“And the twenty year memorial for 314, and the exposé on Torfan.”  Her brown eyes sparkled.  “I was sorry to not be able to include any commentary from you on that occasion.”

“So was I, after I saw it.”  Shepard still got any number of requests to contribute to pieces of journalism concerning Akuze.  Most of it was crap.  Mabry’s work was refreshingly respectful and balanced.  

“You saw it?”  The journalist was delighted. 

Shepard raised an eyebrow.  “What’re you doing here?”

“You came at good time.  I’ve been working on a piece about Special Tactics and Reconnaissance for the last six months.  You’d add an excellent dimension to the story, give it some depth, show my viewers the Council isn’t entirely closed to new ideas…”  Her smile was inviting, while at the same time self-deprecating, as if she was aware of how superficial her sales pitch sounded.

Shepard took another drag, held the smoke in her mouth a long moment, considering.  The nicotine helped almost as much as the walk, giving her crowded head room for a little objectivity.  She hated the media.  But they were like a force of nature in modern times.  “I’m shipping out.  But give me a call the next time I’m here and I’ll give you an interview.”

Mabry blinked.  “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”  Shepard shrugged. 

“I know the ANN brigade is beating down your door.  Why me?”

“Because I liked your piece on Akuze and usually that kind of journalism makes me want to stab something.”  Shepard stubbed out the cigarette.  “Look, if I don’t give them something soon people are going to start making shit up.  I know how this goes.  But right now-“

“You have to run.  I understand.”  Another smile.  “I’ll be in touch.”

Shepard headed towards the dock.

/\/\/\/\/\

When Shepard got back to the main drag leading down towards the Alliance dock, still smelling faintly of smoke, she found Williams and Alenko taking in the view.  They looked relaxed.  Williams in particular didn’t look like a marine who had just received a stinging reprimand. 

They were laughing about something as she walked up.  Alenko leaned back against the banister.  “Hey, Commander.”

Williams turned, grinning broadly.  “Ma’am.”

She looked between them, unnerved.  “What’s happening?”

“Just taking in the view.”  Alenko draped his forearms over the railing.  Below them, one of the great arms that comprised a fifth of the Citadel’s structure stretched out into the nebula.  “It’s a big place.”

Shepard found she was unable to resist peeking over the edge herself.  The buildings below were impossibly tall, but still impossibly far away.  She shook her head, incredulous.  From space it looked like a child’s toy, the vastness reduced to simple ribbons of light.  Shepard never took it all in from this angle.  “This isn’t a station.  This is a city.  There must be millions of people here, going about their lives like this is just another garden world.”

Always colorful, Williams observed, “This place makes Jump Zero look like a portajohn, and it’s the biggest station we’ve got.”

“Jump Zero’s big, but this place…” Alenko shook his head.  “Just look at those ward arms!  They’re only held to the Presidium by a few massive hinges.  How do they keep all this mass balanced like this?  It looks like it should fly apart under its own inertia.”

Shepard rested on her elbows watching the shuttle traffic zip by.  She hadn’t spent much time on Jump Zero- or as it was properly known, Gagarin Station- but the only way you got a view like this was outside.  The bulk of it was hidden by its own hallways.  The Citadel, on the other hand, was magnificent.  “This really brings home all that the Council represents.  No wonder they’re so careful with newcomers like us.”

Williams was dismissive.  “Or maybe they just don’t like humans.”

“I don’t know.”  Shepard was transfixed watching the flow of traffic across the arm, though her voice held a note of humor.  At times like these she was strongly reminded of the bevy of old, absurd sci-fi fodder she ate up as a kid.  “You ever watch those old vids, pre-spaceflight?  We’ve got oceans, beautiful women, this emotion called love... apparently everything an alien could want.”

“Yeah,” Alenko said, absently, still studying the scene himself.  “When you put it that way, there’s no reason they wouldn’t like you.”

Shepard blinked at him.  There was a moment of confusion as his mind caught up with what he’d just said, quickly followed by a flush of horror.  “I mean, us, humans, ma’am.”

Williams giggled.  “You don’t get much shore leave, do you L.T.?”

Alenko was mortified.  Shepard gave him an easy out.  “Alright, enough, Williams.  Alenko, not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, but we’re on duty here.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  He took the exit gratefully.

“Let’s get going.  I need to check that the resupply to the ship went through.”

“I’ll walk drag, ma’am.”  Williams snickered quietly.

“I said that’s enough.”  Shepard was almost grateful herself for the required chastisement.  It helped her hide the fizzy feeling spreading through her stomach.  Shepard had been described by a lot of adjectives in her life.  Beautiful was rarely one of them.  She was a polyglot spacer kid, with mismatched features from all over humanity- dusky-skinned, ginger-haired, skinny as a boy, and on the tall side for most tastes.

Or, more likely, Alenko honestly did misspeak.  It would be simpler, but she was more than a little surprised to be disappointed by the thought. 

They got on the elevator and headed up to the _Normandy’s_ bay with tinny asari dinner music as their only accompaniment.   

When the doors opened, Williams bounded out and made for the docking tunnel, happy to be on the move at last.  Shepard raised an eyebrow at Alenko.  “What the hell did you tell her, anyway?”

He bounced once on his toes, thinking it over.  “Permission to speak freely, ma’am?”

She indicated he should go on.  He shrugged, with a slight smile.  “Screaming at people isn’t always the answer.  Particularly traumatized marines who are just going to shove back to prove they’re still tough enough to do the job.”

Shepard regarded him a long moment.  At last, she said, “Point taken.  And… thanks.”

“Anytime, ma’am.”  He gave her a nod, and headed onto the ship.

As for Shepard herself, both the ambassador and the captain were waiting for her.  She exchanged salutes with Anderson.  “This still doesn’t feel right, sir.”

“You needed your own ship.  A spectre can’t answer to anyone but the Council.”  The wistfulness in his tone didn’t escape her, but he didn’t want a scene.

“I’ll take good care of her,” Shepard said.

He nodded.  “Will you take some advice from an old soldier that’s been doing this a lot longer than you?”

She laughed at the old joke.  “Haven’t started to yet, sir, but there’s always a chance.”

“Keep your eyes on the real threat.  Saren’s gone, but we know what he wants.  Find that and we’ll have him by the balls.”  Anderson slammed his fist into his palm to emphasize his point.  “This Conduit is the key to everything.”

She stuffed her hands in her pockets.  “Think it’s another Prothean artifact?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like the sound of it.  What do you think?”

“If it does what he claims, it’s got to be reaper tech.”  Shepard shook her head.  “They’re the true threat.  Saren’s just a sideshow.”

The ambassador cleared his throat.  “If they even exist.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Anderson cut in before she could argue the point.  “This war is real enough- and if the reapers do exist, the Conduit is how they return.  Stop Saren from getting the Conduit and we stop the reapers at the same time.”

“I’ll stop him.”  The pageantry and political juggling of the last few days might be meaningless, but Shepard was deadly serious about their mission.  This was something with real consequences that would last beyond the next news cycle.  “He won’t get away this time, sir, you have my word.”

Anderson laid his hand briefly on her shoulder.  “Good hunting, Commander.”

She nodded, and started to brush by Udina to board the ship, but he stepped in front of her and looked up the long length of his nose.  “You may be a spectre now, Commander Shepard, but your actions still reflect on humanity as a whole.  You make a mess and I get stuck cleaning it up.”

Her mouth turned up at one corner.  “I’ll take care of Saren.  You take care of the political fallout.”

“Not exactly the answer I was looking for.”

“We all have our duty.  Some days you’re feted by the galactic Council, and other days you’re digging latrine holes.  Just how it goes.”  She clapped him on the back, harder than was necessary and causing him to stumble forward a step.  “I’m sure we’ll be talking soon.”

He called after her as she opened the hatch, with real rancor.  “Remember you were a human long before you were a spectre.”

When she needed a species check, an old toad like Udina was definitely the first person she’d ask.  But apparently Citadel diplomacy was rubbing off on her, because she stepped aboard without offering any response.

Shepard turned right and immediately made her way to the CIC.  Navigator Pressly came to attention as she stepped up the galaxy map.  “Commander.  Ship is resupplied, all crew accounted for, and ready to move out on your order.”

She nodded.  “Good work.”

He hesitated a moment.  “I heard about Captain Anderson.  A rotten bunch of bullshit, is what that is, if you don’t mind me saying, ma’am.”

It was odd to hear Pressly swear, but she merely shook her head.  “It’s not right.  It’s like I’m stealing the ship from him.”

“It wasn’t your fault, ma’am.”  He put his arms behind his back and gave her a steady nod and a party line.  “But if he had to go, there’s not a man aboard ship who isn’t glad it’s you taking his place.”

“I’ve got our destination.”  She activated her omni-tool and uploaded Anderson’s coordinates to Pressly’s terminal.  “Artemis Tau.  We’re looking for an asari with some answers for us.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Pressly began programming the nav system.

Shepard turned towards the communications officer.  “Open a channel.  Ship-wide.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”  The woman’s fingers danced over her keys.  “Ready when you are.”

Shepard took a moment leaning on the railing surrounding the map console, a few seconds to collect her thoughts.  Then she looked up and took a breath.  “Listen up, _Normandy_.  This is your commander speaking.  We have our orders- find Saren Arterius and make him answer for his crimes.  He’s betrayed his office and the people he swore to protect, a traitor to everything this galaxy stands for.  I refuse to allow anything to get in the way of that mission.”

She paused a half-second.  By now, everyone in the CIC was staring at her intently.  “We all know what happened on Eden Prime.  We saw the destruction.  We saw the bodies of our civilians and our marines.  We saw what Saren did.  I don’t have the answers.  I don’t know what to say to make it any easier.  But I say you this- I plan to make him pay for every life of ours he took that day.”

Her voice rose.  “Wherever Saren goes, we’ll follow.  Wherever he searches for the Conduit, we’ll be there.  We will hunt him to the very ends of the Terminus and we will bring him down.  Not just for our own sake, but for the sake of every other species in Citadel Space.  Nobody will be safe until he’s brought to heel, and I promise you- we can and we will stop him.”

Her remarks were intended to focus her crew on their mission and what was at stake, to encourage them all to hang together as one team, but Shepard was shocked by the spontaneous applause that broke out in the CIC.  She managed to nod, tersely, and turned to Pressly like that was exactly the response she expected.  “Navigator, tell the helmsman he has his orders.”

For the first time since they met, Pressly’s salute appeared more than perfunctory.  He started running the pre-flight check as she stepped down from the map and went to her own console to get to work. 

Before long, they were pulling away from the Citadel and en route to the Artemis Tau cluster, and whatever plans of Saren’s awaited.


	15. Bygone Days

_Plasma drenched the ground of a desert world.  Heat rolled up from the cracked stones and washed the sky with dusty steam.  Nathaly couldn’t make out a blessed thing.  And she badly needed a better view, because the noises were worse than the scorching air.  Deep booms, like fog horns, punctuated by low rumbles of exploding earth and the occasional ragged cry.  If the screaming came as words, they weren’t in her vocabulary, but these noises were primal, archaic, the kind of sound that endured the birth and death of language._

_There was nothing in her hands nor armor on her body as she stumbled through the dirty cloud.  Rock and bones alike crunched under her bare and filthy feet.  There was no will in her to fight, and that frightened her more than the carnage and chaos combined.  She stumbled forward heedless of the scrapes and burns, with a single whisper in her mind:  away, away, away…_

Shepard started awake in the dark chill of her cabin aboard the _SSV Normandy_ tangled in sweat soaked sheets, her breath loud in her ears.  Her lungs gulped at the tasteless, filtered air like she was suffocating.  Her throat felt as raw as though it was real smoke she breathed.

She sat up and searched blindly with her toes for her shoes.  “Lights.”

Immediately, the _Normandy_ VI illuminated the cabin.  Virtual intelligences could be ornery, but like every other aspect of her ship, the Alliance spared no expense on the computers.  This one ran smooth.

Shepard pulled a shirt over her head and stood, rubbing the tired out of her face.  She paced for a few minutes, working out the adrenaline and allowing her heart rate to settle back into normal range, until her muscles stopped twitching at every stray groan of her ship. 

A glance at her terminal showed the time as 0300 TCU.  Though searching the Artemis Tau cluster for any sign of an asari scientist was about as unexciting as life on the final frontier got, she knew she ought to get back to sleep, so she’d be sharp regardless of what happened tomorrow.  They could get a lock on T’Soni at any time.

The taste of ashes lingered in her mouth.  She glanced between the bed and the hatch.  “Fuck this.”

She walked out onto the crew deck, tousling her hair and yawning, and made her way to the mess.

There were packets of hot chocolate powder in a drawer- the kind without marshmallows, she was satisfied to note- and it was easy enough to throw a mug of water in the microwave.  She stood at the counter and tapped her foot on the floor while she watched the seconds count down.

“Hey, Commander.”  Alenko knelt next to her and started poking through the cabinet. 

She shuffled her legs out of the way.  “What the hell are you doing up?”

“Spent the evening sleeping off a headache, and now I’m not tired.”  He retrieved a bag of pretzels and tore it open.  “You?”

“Woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.”  The microwave beeped.  She started ransacking the cupboard for a spice rack.  The food here might be pre-packaged, but they carried basic seasonings to liven it up.

“Bad dreams?”

“This fucking beacon.”  She expelled the words like a curse.

He looked her over.  Her exhaustion was obvious, from the redness in her eyes to clumsiness of her fingers as she ripped open the paper packet.  He cleared his throat.  “I guess that explains the, uh, attire.”

She glanced down, taking in her stained Alliance-issued undershirt, boxer shorts, and unlaced combat boots as if noting them for the first time.  Shepard slouched against the counter, unfazed, and stirred her drink.  “It’s three a.m.  You want to report me for being out of uniform?  I didn’t make my bed either.”

Alenko chuckled and shook his head.  “No, ma’am.”

“Damn right.”  But there wasn’t much force behind her words.  Reaching up into the cabinet, she pulled down a jar, sprinkling it generously over the cocoa.

His nose twitched at the scent.  “Cinnamon?”

“My grandmother made it this way when I was a kid.  I kinda got used to it.”  She inhaled the steam rising off the mug, and took a sip.  Not as good as the real thing, of course, but not bad either.  “I spent a lot of time there while my parents were out on deployments, until she passed, anyway.  Then it was space stations and the occasional groundside base.”

He hesitated a moment, but she seemed in a talkative mood, and so he said, “I was just reading at the table.  I took a break to get a snack, but I wouldn’t mind company if you’re not planning to go back to bed.”

After her unpleasant dreams, a bit of small talk having nothing to do with beacons, Protheans, reapers, or scorched-earth wars was very appealing.  “That works for me.”

They meandered over to the large area on the crew deck that served as a mess hall.   Big enough to hold two-thirds of _Normandy’s_ crew during meals, it felt vast with only two chairs occupied.  A worn paperback lay halfway open on the table.

Shepard tipped her head to read the title.  “ _Nightfall_.  That’s a bit dark.”

“Not the tenth time you read it.  You know it?”

“Know it?” She was insulted.  “I used to eat this shit three meals a day.”

He rolled his eyes, not taking the bait.  “I guess you get less time to read these days.”

“It’s true.  I’m not usually stationed on a ship.  I forgot how much down time there is.”  She balanced her heels on the edge of her seat, cradling the mug.  “I probably should have bought something on the Citadel, but it didn’t occur to me.”

“Well, you weren’t exactly hurting for things to do there.”  He closed the book and held it out.  “It was in my bag when we left Mars.  I’ve got others.”

It was rare to see her caught off guard.  She smiled a little half-smile of bemusement, and took the book.  “Thank you.”

Alenko thought it was a good look on her.  He smiled back.  “Any time.”

“I know it’s a little strange.”  She rested her chin on her knee and waved the book.   “I grew up in a version of the future these guys were trying to describe, but I still loved reading about it.  It's like a history of a past that never was."

"No, I get it."  He snagged another pretzel and toyed with it.  "You grew up traveling the galaxy.  I grew up on Jump Zero with a bunch of other biotic kids.  Biotic Acclimation and Temperance Training.  We called it Brain Camp.”

“What, some kind of… special school?” 

“Something like that.”  Alenko moved on without elaboration.  “It was like living in a zoo.  We didn't even have extranet access.  I got a taste for old books and movies.  Sometimes I wonder if that's not part of the reason I joined up.  If you read enough stories about the great wandering hero saving the universe for the girl he loves, you start to kind of believe it."

"You're a romantic."  Shepard was delighted.

"Nah.  No."  He blushed faintly.  "Alright, maybe a little, in the beginning.  It wore off fast."

She laughed and set the book aside.  "Basic training has that effect."

"Too damn true," he agreed.  "Alright, then, Commander, how about you?  What drove you to enlist?"

"Family tradition," she answered promptly. 

Maybe a little too promptly, because he leaned forward and said, "Now I know it's something good.  What's the real reason?"

“Patriotism.  Defending humanity.”  She waggled her eyebrows.  “Lots and lots of guns.”

Alenko snorted.  “Fine, don’t tell me then.  You might want to practice that line a little more before you try it in public though.”

"It's a terrible story."  It was her turn to look away, embarrassed. 

"I'm sure it can't be all that bad."  He prodded her.  “Come on, who am I going to tell?”

Shepard sighed and rolled the mug between her palms.  “When I was seventeen, I got picked up by the Hellas Basin PD for stealing the gyroscope out of an air car parked in a strip mall lot.  My dad could’ve posted bail but he didn’t.  I think it was kind of the last straw.”

“You caused your parents a lot of trouble?”

“You can say that twice.”  Shepard had to laugh a little, recalling her lengthy list of transgressions.  “I was a belligerent snot, if we’re being honest.  Getting arrested was… well.  They had enough.”

“So how’d that lead you to the service?”

“Three days later my mom shows up.  Emergency leave.  She’s a captain and it’s a navy town- there were people she could talk to get me out of it.  I got to choose.  She said I could put my faith in the justice system or the military, but either way she was done trying to tame me.”  She raised her mug with obvious sarcasm.  “And here I am.  Pride of the navy.”

He chuckled.  They sat there a long moment sipping and munching, before Alenko’s curiosity got the better of him.  “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why steal stuff?”

“Oh, god.  I don’t know.”  She pushed the hair off her face.  “A year or so before that, I wrecked my dad’s car.”

“And what, you were trying to replace it one bit at a time?”

“I sort of stole it out of the driveway to go drag racing on the planitia.”  She fiddled with the mug, avoiding his gaze.  Her cheeks were burning.  She hoped it didn’t show.

He eyed her, as if waiting for the punchline.  “Alright, so you weren’t kidding about being a handful.”

She groaned.  “Why are we talking about this?”

“Because it’s three in the morning and I asked.”  He grinned at her.  “You seem to have survived in one piece.”

“It was a miracle I survived the accident.  When I came to, the car was a tangle of broken metal, my friends were nowhere to be seen, and it was well after dark and freezing cold.  One of the things I didn’t know before that is deserts look pretty much the same in all directions.  It was two weeks before I stumbled into a research station.”

“You had to be in bad shape by then.  It’s kind of amazing you didn’t just collapse out there.”

“I was in the hospital on base another couple of weeks.”  She took another sip of the chocolate.  “You know, dad never did yell at me about the car.  Never yelled at me about any of it.”

“He was just happy to have you back, alive.”  Alenko leaned back in his chair.  “My parents were on eggshells when I got home from Jump Zero.  I hadn’t seen them in nine years.  We didn’t know what to do with each other.  But they were so happy- for a few months there, I could do no wrong.”

“Nine years?  What the hell kind of school was this?”

“I still don’t see how this leads to crawling under a car in a parking lot,” he said, sidestepping the question.

She raised her eyebrows, but decided not to press.  “Dad decided I clearly needed something productive to do with my time.  He bought an old junker we could fix up together.  Kind of a father-daughter project.  He was an amazing mechanic, back in the fleet.  I don’t think there was anything he couldn’t make fly.” 

“My dad was an IT guy, twenty years for the navy and a few more for himself, before my parents came into some money and retired.  He was always trying to get me interested.  Don’t get me wrong, I love computers, but I didn’t want to spend my life in front of one.”

“See, I loved cars.”  Shepard broke into a smile.  “I still remember the first time we got the engine to turn over.”

“Ah, it starts to make sense.”  He smiled too.  “Someone was too impatient to finish the project.”

“More like someone wanted parts her meager paycheck hawking cheeseburgers couldn’t quite stretch to cover.”  She watched him pop another pretzel into his mouth, nonplussed.  “I figured you for the last person who’d take this kind of story calmly.”

“What do you mean?”

“You weren’t fond of my tactics on Eden Prime.”

“I’m shocked to discover you may have made some poor life decisions as a teenager.  Definitely atypical for the age.”  He shrugged, unconcerned, and dug back into the bag.  “I don’t think you’d disagree that you can be a little, uh, rough around the edges-“

“Right,” she said, heavy with cynicism.

“But you know, the fact that you’re this embarrassed about it says a lot about the last ten years.”

“Eleven years.”  She set the mug aside.

“Eleven then.  It’s probably ok for it to be more funny than shameful now.”

“You’re probably right,” Shepard replied, politely, though she was obviously less than convinced.  Her intent was to let the topic rest, but she drummed her fingers against the table, thinking, and then laid her palm flat against it.  “My dad got banged up pretty bad right before I started high school.  He was one of the guys who got spaced on the _SSV Einstein_ , if you remember that.  It was a huge scandal back in the day.”

“Yeah, I remember something about that.”  He was puzzled by the sudden change of topic, but went along with it.  “It turned out the subcontractor execs were in bed with Alliance appropriations, right?”

“Yep.  One shoddy seal, and whole compartment vented to space.  Turned out that wasn’t the last corner cut on those birds.”  Shepard shook her head, disgusted.  “Anyway, dad got discharged, and that’s how I ended up on Mars.  I thought it was a punishment.  But he needed me, and all I did for three years was give him one headache after another while he was trying to relearn how to do everything.”

Shepard traced the scratches in the table.  He nudged her with his foot.  “I bet he was proud of you when you signed up, regardless of why.” 

“Are you kidding me?”  She laughed despite herself.  “He frog-marched me to the recruiter’s office himself when I turned eighteen, first thing in the morning, and stood over my shoulder while I signed the papers.  Happy birthday Nathaly.”

He laughed.  “It couldn’t have been half as bad as basic, if you were really that much of a brat.”

“Basic.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “I showed up with my hair still dyed bright blue, figuring that they’d dye it back some normal color.  I was kind of enjoying how much of a hassle it would be for them.  Instead, the woman bent me over a trashcan and buzzed the whole lot of it off.  Rude awakening number one.  Thank god I left the eyebrows alone that round of dye.”

His brow furrowed.  “Wait, your hair was blue?”

“Yeah, for years, why?”

He got this little dimple between his eyebrows when he was thinking.  Right now he seemed to be assembling pieces of a thought in his head.  “The _Einstein_ disaster came right after they shut down the program on Jump Zero.  Finally got the damn reporters off my parents’ doorstep.”  Then he amended, rapidly, “Not that I meant I was glad your dad got hurt-“

She held up her hand.  “Trust me, it’s ok.  The media’s one giant hungry vulture.  I don’t much care what gets them off my back, either.”

He nodded.  “Anyway, I remember one broadcast.  A reporter was camped out at the hospital where they took the injured, trying to give an update, but this blue-haired girl turning cartwheels in the background kept messing up his frame.  It was hard to take his accusations against the Alliance seriously with that going on.”

“Huh.”  Shepard frowned, trying to recall.  “It could’ve been me.  The first week was awful, but after we knew dad would survive, living out of a waiting room got old fast.  I needed to move, so I went down to the hospital grounds and screwed around awhile.  I had no idea there was video footage.”

Then she grinned.  “My blue hair must’ve made quite the impression.  That was ages ago.”

“That, or the way your t-shirt slid down a little farther every time you flipped upside down,” Alenko said without thinking.

Shepard burst out laughing.

“I was a kid,” he protested, now bright red.  “I had a sheltered childhood.”

“I’ll bet.”  She put her hand over her mouth in an attempt to contain a second spurt of laughter.

“I did,” he insisted.  “Hell, I don’t even know _how_ to turn a cartwheel.  The ceilings in Jump Zero are too low, and we didn’t get free time in the gym.”

Shepard managed to regain control of herself.  “Very smooth change of subject there, Alenko.”

He sat back and folded his arms ruefully.  “You have an amazing talent for getting me to say things without thinking them through.”

“It’s good for you.  You could do with some loosening up.”  Shepard snickered.  “In fact, I think I’m going to teach you how to turn a cartwheel, the next time we’re groundside.”

Alenko felt he was rapidly losing any shred of control of the situation.  “I’m fine living in the dark on that one.”

“No, I insist.  It’s not that hard.”  Shepard drained the last of her hot chocolate. “And I’ll, you know, make sure my shirt is firmly tucked in at all times, lest the sight of my bare stomach drive you to distraction.”

He eyed her, trying to tell whether or not she was serious.  She gave nothing away.  “Good night, Lieutenant.”

“Good night, ma’am.”

/\/\/\/\/\

The remainder of the night passed without ill dreams to disturb her, and by the time Shepard was showered and dressed, she’d cleared the last of the tired fog from her mind. 

It began like every other day the past week.  There were four Council-cartographer-mapped star systems in Artemis Tau, each with a half-dozen planets for an archaeologist aspiring to deadlier things to hide a shuttle.  And Liara T’Soni could be anywhere.  Even assuming she was in this cluster to dig, Prothean ruins were sprinkled across this system like boulders on the planitia.  The Protheans had a fondness for these worlds.

Joker was already on the bridge when Shepard arrived.  She was beginning to suspect he slept there.  “Flight Lieutenant.”

“Hey, Commander.”  He even found the gumption to sound cheerful in spite of the frustration of their search.  “Another fine day of scanning planets, coming right up.”

“I tried to get in touch with T’soni’s university for all the good that did.  I don’t have that many contacts on Thessia to begin with, and nobody wants to talk to me about this.”  Shepard sighed.  “Whoever this Benezia is, Councilor Tevos wasn’t mistaken about her influence.”

“We’ll find her,” Joker reassured.  “She can’t hide forever.”

Unless she was moving from system to system.  They assumed she didn’t suspect they were coming.  If she did, they’d never find her.  They didn’t have a big enough net.Aloud, however, Shepard remained optimistic.  “Today could be the day.  I have a good feeling about Therum.”

“I have to disagree there, ma’am.  Thorough is one thing, but Therum’s a mining world.  It’s hotter than hell on the surface and I doubt an asari is able to wander among the workers without anyone taking notice.”

Shepard shrugged.  “Maybe she kept away from the mines.  Or maybe she simply kept away from the Eldfell-Ashland executive I spoke with.”

That woman had been less than useless.  It was clear she didn’t want the Alliance interfering with “her” world, much less the Council, and it didn’t matter why.  Shepard thought the Systems Alliance took the wrong tact with these kinds of planets.  There was a government, but it existed in name only, secondary to the corporate interests that financed and controlled all activity on Therum.  Parliament simply didn’t have the funding to support colonies on marginal, if lucrative, garden worlds, and mostly looked the other way so long as the tax revenue flowed in a timely fashion.

Until things got out of hand, which was where Shepard and her colleagues in spec ops came in.  She was tired of cleaning up messes the Alliance could have prevented altogether with a touch more foresight.  But that was irrelevant to this mission.

She clapped Joker on the shoulder.  “Well, you and the survey team keep at it.  Let me know if you find anything.”

Shepard wandered down to engineering, suppressing a yawn.  The lack of sleep was catching up with her and the monotony wasn’t helping.  Engineering was cramped and crowded, but a good ways across the ship and down.  Her legs needed the walk.

Engineer Adams straightened as she came on deck.  If anything, he seemed more enthusiastic than before.  The ship was outperforming everyone’s expectations.  “All systems green, Commander.  And I’m happy to report that the IES is operating a full thirty minutes longer than our dry dock tests promised.”

“Someday you and I are going to sit down and have a long chat about the IES.”  Shepard understood the basic principles, but there remained some fundamental and rather obvious questions about the _Normandy’s_ stealth protections she wanted answered.  For one thing, heat signatures like those the IES suppressed were only a small fraction of the electromagnetic spectrum.

“Sure.  Just say the word.”  Adams turned back to his work.

Shepard approached the drive, circling it as much as the metal pipe railing would allow.  It hummed in bass notes that strained the edges of her hearing.  Joker complained about the balance of the ship- he bitched about everything, just as a matter of course- but the drive was truly massive.  Shepard never saw the like. 

“She’s so quiet too,” a voice marveled behind her, both admiring and nervous.  Shepard turned to find Tali also gazing up at the drive core. 

“I suppose she is.”  Shepard didn’t notice much difference in volume between this and the other ships, but then the _Normandy_ was tiny, as navy ships went.  Maybe it was more impressive in a small vessel.

Tali folded her arms.  “It’s making it hard to sleep.  On the flotilla, quiet means something on the ship broke- the drive, the air circulation.  We don’t have anything new enough to run like this.”

“Air circulation?”  Shepard’s brow creased.  “Your ships are atmospheric?”

Tali chuckled.  “Yes.  Our suits can seal off and act as a space suit, recirculating our air supply, for limited periods of time.  But preferably we draw in fresh air, filtered through the suit’s apparatus.  No space suit functions indefinitely.  If we could design that, I doubt we’d be forced to purchase scrap yard ships.”

“Well, I can always get the crew down here to bang a few wrenches against the bulkhead if it’ll help.”  Shepard glanced at her sidelong, her mouth twitching at a corner.

That got another chuckle.  “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.  Actually, I wanted to speak with you about something I found.”

“What’s that?”  Her interest was piqued.  Mostly, Tali kept to herself, down on the engineering deck.  She’d been quiet as a mouse since they left the Citadel.  Adams told her the quarian’s insights into the engines were beyond valuable, but of Tali herself, Shepard saw little.

“I started looking at some records.”  Tali seemed uncertain where to begin.  “All this time we’ve assumed Dr. T’Soni would be hiding.  If not from us, then generally, from her mother’s enemies.  I started to wonder if maybe she thought either nobody would look for her all the way out here, or maybe… I don’t know.”

“Tali, get to the point.”  It wasn’t said unkindly, but the girl had a tendency to ramble that grated on Shepard’s nerves.

“Right.” She squared her shoulders.  “If she wasn’t trying to hide there would be records of her arrival.  Therum may be a backwater, but it is inhabited.  There are protocols for landing.  So I hacked into Eldfell-Ashland’s docking records.”

Shepard raised her eyebrows.  “You can do that?”

“They’re a mining company, Shepard.”  Tali sat back on her heels, folding her arms.  “Their electronic security protocols aren’t top of the line.”

“And you found…?”

The grin came through in her voice.  “A shuttle landed here three weeks ago, registered to the University of Serrice, care of Liara T’Soni.”

_And now I know the exec lied to me._ Shepard’s own grin shared some broad qualities with that of a shark.  “Good work.  Do you know where she went?”

The quarian nodded and pulled up a map on her omni-tool.  “Here, about a hundred klicks south of the capital.  There’s a huge mine there.  Apparently, they found extensive ruins in the initial excavation two years ago.  It was all over the news.”

“I don’t have much time for watching news vids.”  Shepard ran her fingers over her hair and glanced at the ceiling.  “Joker, we need to head for Mine No. 7.”

The VI caught the name and change in tone, and broadcast her instruction to the bridge.  A few moments later, Joker’s response came back, anxious.  “We can be there in twenty minutes, ma’am, but I’m looking at satellite surveillance.  You’re gonna want to see this.”

“On my way.”  Shepard paused as she passed Tali, laying a hand on her shoulder.  “Really, really good work today.  This is exactly the break we needed.”

Tali practically glowed under the compliment.  She didn’t have a lot of faith in herself, without much apparent cause for the doubts.  Shepard made a note of it.

Joker patched the satellite relay into the comm room.  Shepard reviewed the data while they continued their conversation.  “This is from Eldfell-Ashland’s satellites?”

“Yes, ma’am.”  He paused.  “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Bastards,” Shepard growled, unsure if it was directed more at the lying snakes of Eldfell-Ashland or the geth she clearly saw swarming the surface.  “How could they expect to keep this a secret?”

“I don’t know.”  The link went silent a moment, before Joker managed to shove some perk back into his voice.  “Orders, ma’am?”

“It’s too hot to land?”

“Affirmative.  It’s a Mako drop or nothing.”

Shepard made up her mind.  “Tell Alenko and Williams to suit up while I inform the X.O.  We’re going in.”


	16. Driving Lessons

A Mako combat drop was how an Alliance pilot earned his pay while at the helm of a ship that largely flew itself.

Shepard, Alenko, and Williams piled into the tank and rolled down the chute into the glorified pocket that was the _Normandy SR-1’s_ shuttle bay.  As she made her way into the Mako cabin, Shepard noticed someone had hung a snapshot of Jenkins fooling around with two of the other marine grunts on the wall of the loading bay, by the suit checkpoint.  Her fingers brushed it briefly, automatically, aware of the ritual positioning of the picture even as the cynical part of her doubted he had much luck to spare them.

Shepard was in the right-hand couch, where she could survey their trajectory and assess conditions to issue orders.  Alenko sat next to her, in front of the nav panel, frowning a bit in concentration as he rushed through the check-out list while their ship made her final descent.  Williams strapped in behind them for the drop, though once they were on the ground, she’d have to stand to man the gun.  Shepard hoped her aim with an artillery rifle was as good as with hand-held weaponry.

The Mako was the Alliance’s solution to putting small sorties into hot zones in rough terrain without endangering a whole ship.  If the objective were simply to subdue the geth, the _Normandy’s_ guns could handle the problem from orbit.   That would lead to all kinds of fallout for firing on an Alliance colony with civilian miners in the field, but even aside from ethical considerations, her only objective was to locate and extract Dr. T’Soni.  This wasn’t a full-scale invasion like Eden Prime.  Today, Shepard didn’t care about the machines.  If Eldfell-Ashland wanted to keep their pest problem to themselves, they were welcome to it. 

The _Normandy_ was required to accelerate as Joker left orbit and dipped her belly into the thin, screaming winds of the upper atmosphere.  The dampeners could mask the vibrations, but nothing could conceal the sound, as a plasma sheath engulfed their ship and tested her ceramic paint skin to the limit.

Just before the nadir of their dive, the front hatch opened, and the Mako rolled out onto thin air.  The sound died away almost instantaneously and the _Normandy_ receded.  It was one of the few situations where modern space-faring Alliance experienced free fall, as they dangled in their seatbelts while their tiny vessel inscribed a parabola across Therum’s sky. 

That phase lasted scant seconds, until they’d fallen to under thirty kilometers, when the Mako’s undersized momentum dampeners kicked in at full strength.  This keystone of mass effect technology made the drop possible.  A few seconds further, the retrorockets fired, jerking them hard into their couches, a relatively gentle two g’s after the dampeners cancelled all they could.  Their speed slowed from an apocryphal bullet to a mere blur. 

  
At three km, the rockets cut out.  At one, the wheels unlocked.  They hit the ground with a full thirty g’s of force, dampened to a still-unpleasant five, rolled a hundred meters, and came to a stop within sight of two startled geth sentries.  Joker put them exactly where Shepard pointed on the keyhole satellite images while lashing together a plan for the mission.

Williams was out of her seat instantaneously.  The gun swung around and sighted on the nearest of the pair of geth.  “Ma’am?”

“Fire at will.  We’re not exactly hidden.”  Shepard nodded at Alenko.  “Joker hit the bullseye.  The main concentration of ruins is five klicks northwest.”

“Roger that.”  He steered away from the sentries, gaining speed, while Williams continued to track them with their main gun.  She fired a salvo that reduced the first to a smoldering heap of twisted metal, but was forced to combat its friend with smaller rounds as the Mako slowly recycled the heavy ammunition setting.  The larger the rounds, the more frequently the weapon needed to cool.  The tank rocked as the geth returned fire.

Alenko glanced at the instruments and gave them a little more speed.  “Shields holding.”

“Hostiles neutralized,” Williams announced, with more glee than Shepard liked to hear.  Including her on this mission was questionable, but her skill was undeniable and it set her apart from the rest of the grunts aboard ship- so long as she could keep her head.  Eden Prime was going to continue provoking her thirst for vengeance for a while.

Therum wasn’t a garden world in the glossy-brochure sense.  It was hot as hell, formed of raw volcanic rock unsuited for farming, and a lazy river of exposed lava from the nearby volcanic arc bounded their path as it wound slowly downhill to a cooling lake of molten rock.  Shepard kept a close eye on the ground before them, wary of sinkholes.  The rotten-egg scent of sulfur pervaded the cabin.

The Mako bumped and shambled along.  Shepard tried not to grit her teeth with every jounce.  Instead, watched the ladar.  “More hostiles in-bound.”

“I see them.”  Alenko swung the Mako around.  In the back, Williams tensed on the trigger. 

The geth were crowded behind makeshift barricades, little more than sheet metal plates bolted together, but it blocked line of sight.  As they barreled downhill, the Mako began to swerve, while Williams laid down a barrage of cover fire.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake-“ Shepard was cut off as her helmet slammed against the bulkhead.

“Should’ve worn the seat belt.”  Alenko kept his concentration on the controls.  The geth were returning fire.  It sounded like hail on their roof.

“Or you should try driving straight.”

He leaned into the next turn.  “Procedure states to orient the vehicle forward to present the smallest possible target and vary course to make it harder to track.”

Shepard finally managed to grab a cross strut to brace herself.  “Just run them over.”

That got his attention.  “Say again?

“Those barricades are screwing us over.  Run them down.  Don’t mistake it for a suggestion.”

Alenko shook his head in disbelief.  “Yes, ma’am.”

He gunned the engine.  They flew at the barricade, Williams pouring bullets into the fortifications. 

As they got close, Shepard said, “Kill the gun.  We’re putting shrapnel into our own shields.”

True to her orders, Alenko didn’t slow as they rammed the metal wall and crushed the two geth still crouched behind it.  One of them bucked, once, but throwing the Mako into reverse solved that problem. 

“Good,” Shepard said into the sudden silence following the end of the fighting.  “Let’s keep moving.”

Alenko and Williams exchanged a glance, before Alenko rolled his eyes and shifted back into forward.  There was a high-pitched grinding sound from the rear of the vehicle.  “Wheel’s stuck, Commander.”

Her turn for an eye-roll.  “Move over.”

He relinquished the controls readily.  When the commander was like this, there was no point in arguing.  He slid across into the opposite couch while Shepard squeezed in front of him along the windshield.  Alenko covertly fastened his seat belt and began to adjust the instrumentation more to his liking.

Meanwhile, Shepard started rocking the Mako back and forth, easing the wheel free of the debris.  She let out a whoop as it popped loose and they went flying a good twenty feet forward.

“Ow,” Williams said from behind them, rubbing her forehead where it whacked the gun sight.

“Hang on.”  Shepard eased onto the accelerator.  “Here we go.”

They jounced across the surface of Therum.  Alenko checked their position against the _Normandy’s_ triangulation.  “Turn five degrees south.”

The front wheel skidded over a boulder as she executed the course adjustment, too low to see from high up in the cabin, causing the Mako to tilt alarmingly and nearly overturn before the inertial adjustor caught it.  Shepard swore.

“Doesn’t exactly corner like your Fire Starter?” Alenko asked dryly.

She straightened out the vehicle.  “Go to hell.” 

“Is that an order, ma’am?”  He glanced at the ladar.  “Looks like four… no, five more contacts, coming up fast.”

Williams squinted through her sights.  “At least one of them is a big guy.  Heavy artillery.”

“Roger.”  Shepard grinned and increased speed.  “Brace yourselves.”

She drove straight up their belly, holding course against the onslaught while Williams pounded them with the Mako’s cannon.  The geth held their ground.  Shepard didn’t know if they had any sense of self-preservation, or maybe their software had a way of living on that was independent of their platform.  Maybe it was only that if there was a single task at which computers excelled, it was following orders.  But those flashlight heads didn’t so much as flicker as the Mako closed fifteen meters, ten, five…

Shepard froze the front wheel and slid the entire rear half of the Mako into the right flank of the entrenched geth.  Two went flying and landed prone some five meters further down.  Williams used the machine gun to make quick work of them.  Releasing the wheel and tapping the accelerator drove the Mako over a fourth.  It clattered against the vehicle’s armor plating.

Shepard gave Alenko a smug look.  “Don’t tell me I can’t drive.”

His mouth turned up at one corner.  “I never said you couldn’t crash with style.”

The cabin rocked as they were hit by a heavy salvo.  The first layer of the Mako’s shielding shivered and died.  Williams returned fire.  “Still one heavy out there, ma’am!”

“I know.”  Shepard brought the Mako around.  “Not going to be able to run that one down.”

“Yeah, and you need to stay back or I won’t be able to see it to target.”

_Wasn’t born yesterday, Chief._ But she bit back the retort.  “Just make sure you take it down.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”  Williams’ aim was excellent, regardless of the weapon used.  A natural soldier.  Anderson was right to give her a chance, despite the trauma and the attitude.  Nobody could teach talent. 

Shepard glanced over her shoulder at the chief.  “Someday you’re going to tell me what happened.”

“Pardon, ma’am?”  Williams reset the cannon as they moved forward, past the remains the geth.

She raised her voice over the rumble of the Mako.  “Why it took so long for you to get on a ship.”

“You don’t know?”  The chief’s surprise was genuine. 

“You’re way too good for all of it to be that mouth of yours.”

It might have been her imagination, but Williams seemed to actually blush.  “Thank you, ma’am.”

It got her a smile from Alenko too, approving.  Well, it was his leadership style.  Maybe it merited a little approval.

They proceeded to the mine in much the same fashion, with Shepard transforming the Mako into a melee weapon, Williams taking out anything that stood still for more than a few breaths, and Alenko calling out directions and targets.  Shepard could use ladar and triangulation and the rest of it, but the instrumentation positively danced in Alenko’s hands.  He knew how it worked and how to make the most of each data feed.  All in all, it made for a very good team.

The Mako descended into an ancient valley scattered with outcrops of rock that didn’t look natural to Shepard’s eyes, though she couldn’t say if it was the mining operation or something earlier.  A narrow, winding path down to the floor forced them to abandon the Mako and travel on foot.  Shepard was fine with that- it made her more comfortable anyway.  She liked the feel of a rifle in her hands and old lava flows crunching under her boots.

The geth were entrenched along the hill leading up to the modern mine.  So far, the Alliance incursion remained undetected, though the geth were clearly on alert.  Groups of two to three machines guarded strategic turns all the way up the easiest path from the valley floor.  Briefly, Shepard pondered sneaking past the synthetics’ defenses, perhaps by scaling the more difficult western wall, but she didn’t like the odds.  If they were spotted- and she had no idea what kind of detectors the geth carried as standard equipment- they’d be caught almost entirely without cover.

She had to shake her head at her own hesitation.  Clearly, Alenko wasn’t the only one still contemplating Jenkins’ death.  They crouched behind a large, square outcrop, her squad looking to her for orders.

Shepard switched out her gun for a sniper rifle.  The weapon unfolded silently, seamlessly, all of the well-oiled parts slipping into place like it was fresh out of the box.  “Cover me.”

They moved into position.  She spent a moment wondering if a head or body shot would prove more effective against machines, then picked a target, and fired.

The lucky guess was correct.  One machine fell.  The commander ducked back into cover not a moment too soon, as the geths’ rapid integration protocols accurately reconstructed the trajectory back to its source, and opened fire on their location.  Chips of rock and other shrapnel from stray shots filled the air, stinging her cheek. 

Alenko and Williams returned in kind.  Shepard recycled the rifle- the intense range and impact power caused it to overheat quickly- and once more took aim, at one of the enemy combatants high up the hill, past the range of an assault rifle.  It fell into the dirt and slid down into a cluster of its companions.  Shepard scuttled left along her cover and prepared another shot.

“They’re trying to flank us!”  Williams was making the geth pay for every inch of terrain, but was becoming rapidly overwhelmed by numbers.  Alenko scrambled to shore up defenses on her side.  Shepard let off one final shot with the sniper rifle before taking up his former position, covering the center and west.  The geth leaked some kind of milky fluid when they became disabled, slickening the ground beneath their bodies and releasing a noxious stench into the air as it hit the hot earth.  It bore some small resemblance to omni-gel. 

Tali would know, she thought, as she mowed down another machine.  A part of her mind was wholly focused on the battlefield, taking in every detail, calculating shots, predicting the future in ten-second intervals, but as strategy went this was fairly basic.  Another compartment of her mind was wandering, almost bored.  Shepard knew how dangerous that could be, but so far it hadn’t stopped her.  Some days it felt like she’d been doing this too long.

At last, the gunfire died and they carefully stuck their heads out, surveying the hill.  A quick scan with an omni-tool confirmed all enemy units down.  Shepard shook the dust out of her hair.  “Come on.  They’ll have reinforcements inbound.  We need to get to that mine.”

They made their way up the hill.  As they neared where satellite recon said the mine should be, the path became cluttered with shipping crates, idled equipment, and other tools.  The silence was disquieting.

Alenko looked around.  “Where are all the miners?”

“Not sure we want to know.”  Shepard was grim.  “But the geth sure didn’t go to any effort to hide the bodies on Eden Prime.”

Williams shuddered.  “At least there aren’t any of those… spikes.”

“Dragon’s teeth, the news is calling them.”  Alenko didn’t seem to approve.  “Fancy name for an ugly thing.  Makes them seem less real.”

Shepard agreed it was a stupid name, but this place set her teeth on edge.  “Stay focused.  I doubt we’ve seen the last of the geth for today.”

They crept from cover to cover, moving deeper into the site.  It was all but abandoned. 

“This isn’t right, Commander.”  Alenko pointed at a cart.  “Machinery lying in the middle of the road, tools out.  Nothing’s put away.  It’s like they walked away for a minute and never came back.”

“Maybe they retreated into the mine when they saw geth inbound.”  Privately, Shepard doubted it.  This place didn’t have the kind of hopeful air to it that spelled survivors.  There was a large gap between their position and the next crate.  She raised her gun to ready and signaled for the group to move up.

As they were walking, there was a distinctly metallic chink followed by a soft sound, like a towel sliding to the ground.  Williams peered ahead.  “What was that?”

Shepard was already moving when the red laser painted Williams’ chest.  The shot didn’t miss.  The chief was tossed flat on her back by the impact.  Her mass effect shield shuddered and died, leaving her lying in the open.

The field erupted in cover fire before the report even faded, pinning Alenko across the way.  Apparently the geth were stealing a play from Shepard’s book.  It would’ve been funny under other circumstances.  Shepard got her arm hooked under the dazed woman’s shoulder and shot back as she dragged her to cover, with only cursory aim to make them think twice about moving in on a wounded target.

That didn’t stop them from shooting at her.  Her own shield died one step from cover, and a bullet tore a nice gouge through her shoulder plating.  The sudden jolt caused her to almost drop Williams. Luckily, by then the chief shrugged off the surprise attack, and managed to scramble behind the crate under her own power. 

Shepard lay back against the cart full of ore, cursing her stupidity, and prodded her shoulder.  Her fingers came back wet.  “Shit.”

Further exploration revealed torn suit webbing at the join and a wound that sucked at her fingertips.  She swore again. 

Williams was returning fire over the top of the cart.  She crouched down to let her weapon cool and glanced at her commander.  “Ma’am?”

“Even geth get lucky sometimes.”  Shepard drew her hand away and started priming the medi-gel dispenser in her suit arm.  “Just keep shooting.”

A solid slather of medi-gel packed into the wound should stop the bleeding, but that was about it.  Shepard would have to live with the injury until they got back to the ship.  At least it wasn’t her dominate arm.  Still, even using it to brace against the assault rifle’s kickback was enough to make her gasp.  It didn’t _feel_ like a bullet wound, exactly; maybe a bit of ceramic shrapnel from her armor.  Whatever it was, Shepard would lay money it was still buried in her flesh.

It was a small irony that the very thing she feared going forward in the mission may have saved their lives in that moment.  Not bracing properly for the gun caused her line of vision to extend upwards, just for a moment, which is how she spotted the oily sheen of a silver geth unit unlike any she’d ever seen.  It clung to the underside of a strut, reminding her of a gecko with its spread fingers and toes, and craned head.  As she watched, it focused a crimson tracing beam on Alenko’s position from its familiar flashlight snout.

Shepard fired into it without thinking.  The thing moved like a liquid, vanishing in an eye-blink.  There was no evidence any of her shots hit.  Across the way, Alenko was looking at her like she’d lost her mind. 

“Damn it!”  She was forced back into a crouch by another of the geth, using a more conventional attack.  “They’ve got some kind of stealth unit- and it climbs.”

It reappeared against the far wall of the facility, slithering upwards.  Alenko sent a wave of energy at it, trying to knock it down, but it broke over the unit in a wash of blue ripples.  “Shielded too.”

He started firing at it instead.  It leapt a solid three meters along the wall.  Shepard let loose a steady hail of bullets, trying to follow its movements, but the thing was just so _fast_.  It left even her superb reflexes dizzy. 

Alenko squatted, setting his rifle across his lap and fiddling with his omni-tool.  Shepard hoped he knew what he was doing.  Pretty soon this geth was going to figure out that it could close on the three marines with near-impunity.  Geth units had a minimum of a foot of height on any of them, were made of hydraulics and metal, and didn’t tire.  Shepard wasn’t eager for a fist fight with any of them.

Just as it was tensing to leap away yet again, a shower of sparks burst from its body as its shield blew out.  It twitched and lost its grip.  Shepard wasted no time, holding the trigger down until her rifle overheated.  It lay still, that milky fluid running out in rivulets towards the valley, smoking slightly.

She took a heavy breath.  Her shoulder was throbbing, not quite painful enough to disable her, not quite painless enough to forget for even a second.  “Is that the last of them?”

Williams took a final shot.  A geth fell out from behind a crate.  “I think so- yes, ma’am.”

They slowly rose, shaking off the ambush , and proceeded cautiously into the compound.  Shepard packed more medi-gel into her shoulder as they walked.  Alenko gave her a glance.  “You ok?”

“Fine.”  She hissed involuntarily as her fingers encountered a particularly sensitive spot, and amended her statement.  “It’s not serious.  It can wait until we’re finished here.”

His brow remained furrowed, but he didn’t further voice his concerns.  Instead, he nodded towards a sheet metal ramp.  “I think that leads into the mine.”

He drew his pistol as they approached.  Any fighting down there was going to be close quarters, not cover fire over open swaths of terrain, and he was better with the smaller, slower weapon.  Shepard paused to listen as they arrived at the first gate along the tunnel down into the earth, listening.

Williams’ eyes darted around the passage, clearly uneasy.  “Ma’am, are you sure it’s a good idea to go hundreds of meters underground this close to volcanic activity?”

“If it’s safe enough for the miners.”  Shepard shrugged.  “This is a horrible place to work.  Most of the people here didn’t have many other options.  I’m not going to let the dangerous environment stop me from helping them when they do this every day.”

Williams bit her lip, chagrined.  “I wasn’t saying that.”

“We need to find T’Soni.  But if we give these geth the boot in the process, I’m not going to complain.”

Alenko worked the lock on the gate.  “At least we know she has to be here.  The geth wouldn’t be here in force randomly.  And maybe we’ll find out what happened to the miners, too.”

There were a handful of geth guards waiting to greet them, but nothing like the force arrayed on the surface.  The three marines dispatched them quickly.  Shepard continued down the ramp.  “I think I see the service elevator at the end of this cavern.”

“Not just that.”  Alenko peered ahead.  “There’s some kind of… structure.”

As they drew closer, it became clear there was some manner of ruin hidden in the mine.  Or, at least, Shepard could find no other word to describe an oval chamber of unknown architecture buried underground.  It looked virtually untouched by the ravages of time, but strange, alien, in a way asari or turian styles never felt. 

And there was some kind of active barrier preventing access.  Shepard prodded it with her gloved hand.

“It looks like someone’s bathroom tile,” Alenko observed, unpoetically. 

The two women raised their eyebrows.  He shrugged.  “Well, it does.”

“Not many bathrooms come equipped with their own military-grade barriers,” Shepard remarked dryly, checking the data from her omni-tool.  The numbers it was giving her were off the charts. 

Williams snickered.  “Now I KNOW you’ve never had a groundside posting in your life.”

That got a chuckle.  Shepard shook her head, bemused despite the gravity and strangeness of their predicament.  “Come on.  Let’s go down to the main level and see if we can find a way in.  I’d bet a month’s pay this is why the doctor came.”

They piled into the elevator.  It took a few tries, but eventually lurched into motion, descending rapidly into the earth.  Williams went to the rail.  “Dare you to spit over the side.”

Shepard took a good look at the rough-hewn rock streaming past.  “No bet.”

The elevator shuddered to a halt with virtually no warning, throwing them all to the ground.  It was just as well, because a pair of geth rocket drones immediately took note of the intruders and began assaulting the elevator carriage. 

“Can’t get a single break,” Shepard complained, as they worked together to bring them down.

“Where there’s drones, there’ll be geth,” Alenko remarked with grim certainty.

Williams pointed with her rifle.  “There’s another one of those bathroom things, down there where the path collapsed.”

Indeed, there was a large section of the suspended sheet-metal bridge that allowed clear navigation of the mine that looked like it’d seen heavy fighting.  It had twisted in on itself and all but fallen to the floor.  Behind it, partially obscured by the debris, was another barrier and tile wall.

Shepard picked her way down to the lower chamber.  As she straightened after the final fall and got a good look at the ruin for the first time, she stopped dead in her tracks, causing Alenko to almost collide with her.  “What-“

His gaze followed hers.  In the center of the chamber, behind the barrier, floated a blue-skinned asari dressed in lab gear.  Her arms and legs waved awkwardly about her body, as though she was trapped underwater.  Shepard took a step forward.  “What in the hell-“

The asari’s large blue eyes darted frantically until they landed on Shepard, pleading and panicked.  “Can you hear me out there?  I’m trapped!  I need help!”


	17. Meet Liara

“Can anyone hear me?  Hello?”  The asari squirmed within the containment field, but her struggle was futile.  She had an unusual look for an asari- discolored facial markings scattered like freckles across her cheeks and nose, a bit taller and stouter in build, and wearing a shade of bubblegum pink lipstick that didn’t do much for her in terms of human aesthetics.  Grime coated her green and white lab tunic, particularly the gloves.  Not exactly a hands-off approach to her work, then.  Her arms and legs were stretched out from her body like an insect pinned to a display case.

Shepard approached the barrier as the asari made to cry out again.  “Keep it down.  This place is crawling with geth.”

She swallowed.  “Right.  I’m sorry.”

Those huge blue eyes kept darting around like a trapped animal.  Some kind of black markings above her eyes, maybe birthmarks or tattoos, bore an uncanny resemblance to human eyebrows.  On a hairless asari, they were distracting.  She took a few deep, calming breaths and stopped testing her bonds.  Waiting.

Shepard brushed aside the strangeness of the situation and composed herself.  “Dr. T’Soni?”

“Yes?”  There was something almost naïve in that contralto voice, a mixture of desperation and embarrassment that belied any rumor that she might be a lieutenant in Saren’s cause.  “Who are you?”

“I’m Commander Shepard, with the Alliance.”  She rubbed her eyes.  “How did you get…”

She gestured at the trap.  If asari could blush, this one was doing so.  “When the geth arrived, I was exploring the ruins.  This may be one of the largest Prothean sites discovered in modern times.  Most everything still works- there’s so much we can learn from this place.”

“So you activated the barrier curtains and got… stuck?”

“I must have hit something I shouldn’t.  I’m afraid I panicked.”  Dr. T’Soni was chagrined.  “Can you imagine?  Geth out from behind the veil.  And they came here? Why?”

Her body shuffled in the containment field as though she was subconsciously trying to pace.  Shepard exchanged glances with her squad.  This was nothing like what they expected, but in light of the other possibilities, it could be worse.  There was a chance the asari was disingenuous but Shepard’s gut said the confusion and anxiety were unfeigned.  “Doctor, are you aware that your mother is working with the geth and helped orchestrate the attack on Eden Prime?”

“What?”  Her eyes flew wide.  “You can’t be serious.”

“Unfortunately, I am.  I’m sorry to be the one to bring you this news.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.  Benezia has always been so… independent.”  The asari bit her lip.  “We’ve been fighting, actually.  I’ve not spoken with her in years.”

Shepard’s brow furrowed.  “Then why did she buy you an apartment on Thessia?”

“It was for herself.  She’s a frequent guest at the university.  She left me a message saying I could use it when she wasn’t in town, but I ignored it.”  She sucked in her breath.  “Wait, you don’t think I had anything to do with this?”

“One way or another, doctor, you had everything to do with this.”  Shepard started feeling her way along the barrier, looking for a weakness.

Alenko joined her while Williams began to patrol their perimeter, looking for stray geth.  He glanced at the asari.  “They probably had orders to either kill you or drag you back to Saren to help with the Conduit.  Commander, we’ve got to get her out of here.”

“I know.  Preferably before the geth come back.”  She looked over at T’Soni.  “Any ideas?”

“Shutting off the containment field would be simple if I could reach the controls.  If you can find a way around the barrier curtain-“

“Commander,” Williams called out, something urgent in her voice.  “I think you need to see this.”

“Right.”  She drew her gun again and started out.

T’Soni thrashed in her bonds.  “Don’t leave me here!”

“Don’t worry.”  Despite herself, Shepard was soothing the asari.  There was no proof of anything yet, and as a species asari were known for suave diplomacy, the ability to be convincing with their words.  But every instinct she had believed this rather strange woman was a victim of circumstance, and a frightened one at that.  “We’re coming back for you.”

She climbed over the rubble and descended to the mine floor, her shoulder screaming protests all the way.  The hard tables in the _Normandy’s_ med bay and the tiny cups of painkillers Chakwas kept in her cabinets were beginning to hold some appeal.  “What have we got, Chief?”

“I don’t know how to say it.”  She was staring into a metal hemi-cylindrical shelter erected within the mine to provide employees a place to retreat from the dust and noise.  Her face was white as a sheet.

Shepard glanced inside, then rubbed her face, defeated.  “Great.  That’s just… perfect.”

Alenko paled.  “Oh, god.”

They found the miners.  Someone herded them into the shelter and gunned them down, from the look of things after the door was locked shut.  The sides were riddled with bullet holes.  Williams confirmed the story.  “I had to kick in the door.  What kind of machine does this?  I don’t care if they’re synthetics, these miners were no threat to anyone.”

“It’s no use speculating.”  Shepard gently shut the door.  There was no reason anyone needed to stumble on this by accident.  They’d contact what passed for Therum’s government on the way out, though Shepard’s hopes were less than high for a compassionate or even rational response from the colony’s CEO.

Alenko was still processing the scene.  “No, Commander, she’s right.  This isn’t something the geth would do.  It’s not their M.O.”

“Have you seen anyone here who isn’t geth, or dead?” 

“Other than Dr. T’Soni, no.”  He looked away.  “I want to believe she’s been blindsided by all this, but she’s still Benezia’s daughter.  You really think things are that bad between them?”

“I don’t get along so well with my mother either,” Shepard said, but the words were empty.  “Come on.  There’s nothing more we can do here, and we’ve still got to get T’Soni out, whatever she is.”

She turned to leave the scene.  After a few paces, she looked over her shoulder and found her squad still lingering over the carnage.  Her injury stabbed through her with a sharp, sudden pain at the simple motion, and she winced, her mouth thinning into a tight line.  “They’re gone.  Unless you’re withholding the secret to resurrection, we need to _keep moving_.  That’s an order.”

They gave the pierced and broken shelter a final glance.  Alenko swallowed, visibly burying his disgust and outrage over the deaths, and nodded.  “Aye, ma’am.”

He prodded Williams.  She afforded Shepard an incensed glare, the price of insensitivity, but she followed along behind and kept her gun up.

A part of Shepard wished she could share their disaffection, that she wasn’t quite so inured to these situations or quite so good at shutting them out.  It felt sometimes like she was missing an essential part of human experience.  It was easy to blame Akuze for setting her down this path, though Shepard had difficulty ever recalling being some other way.  She’d always been insensitive.  But that faint regret wasn’t as large as the part of her that wanted to get her crew and her objective safely extracted from this pit. 

She cleared her throat.  “Any ideas how to shut down the barrier?”

Her squad stared at her.  She ran a hand over her hair, frustrated, ignoring that problem in favor of the one she could fix.  “No, that’s the wrong way to think about it, isn’t it?  All the controls will be inside and nothing short of the _Normandy’s_ main cannon is going to breach it by force.  So if we can’t go through it…”

Her gaze fell on a piece of abandoned mining equipment.  She hurried towards it, checking the power supply.  “Maybe we can go around it.”

Williams’ brow furrowed.  “Is that some kind of excavator?”

“Mining laser, from the look of it.”  Shepard tried the controls.  “Locked, of course.”

“Let me take a look.”  Alenko held his omni-tool up to the machine and started feeding information back and forth.

Shepard peered back along the length of the mine to where T’Soni remained trapped by the containment field.  What did the geth want with her? 

Saren was clearly interested in Prothean artifacts.  The Conduit could be another of those.  It could be he thought an archaeologist would know how to locate it, or process the evidence he collected regarding its whereabouts, like the information from the beacon.  Or it could be simpler- Benezia might want her daughter’s help and approval, forcibly if necessary.  It sounded like she hadn’t given up on the relationship despite T’Soni’s disinterest. 

_And isn’t that just like mothers, never putting you first and then expressing surprise when you give them the same treatment back._ Hannah Shepard was not a bad mother by anyone’s definition.  Shepard knew she loved her, in her own way, but her career was her real passion.  Neither her husband nor her daughter had any illusions about that.  And she carried that same military taste for precision and order into her family life.

Alenko made one last adjustment and the panel went green.  “The laser is online, Commander.”

“Point it under the busted walkway.  Let’s see if we can tunnel into those ruins.”

“Right away, ma’am.”  The machine rotated slowly, to the left and down.  “You might want to cover your ears.”

There was no blast wave, but it was bone-achingly loud.  The laser bored a pattern of melt holes through the rock, weakening it and causing it to collapse along natural flaws, leaving behind a trail of rubble waiting to be scooped into carts.  Shepard’s guess was correct.  The ruins continued down into the floor of this shaft, and the laser found a hollow chamber behind the rock.  Alenko kept the laser going until the hole was large enough to squeeze through.

It was an impatient few minutes waiting for the laser traces to cool sufficiently for their hardsuit boots, but soon enough the squad was pressing into the ruins.  They entered to the right of the bathroom-tile apertures that repeated on every level of the structure, the proper entrances, and so their laser avoided the barrier curtain altogether.  An elevator waited in the central shaft, and it was quick work to convince it to send them up one level.

T’Soni heard them approach from behind.  “Excellent!  Goddess, I am so ready to be free of this cell.”

Shepard glanced around, but didn’t see any obvious means of disabling the field.  “How do we get you out?”

“That terminal.”  The asari nodded over her shoulder.  “I’ll walk you through the procedure.  It’s quite simple.”

Shepard turned towards the console, covered in incomprehensible symbols, and guessed this was Prothean language.  The glowing toggles felt strange under her hands.  Yielding, more like skin than plastic or metal.  “If you say so.”

A few moments later, Dr. T’Soni was rubbing circulation back into her arms, which had been held stretched out to each side for far too long.  “I can’t thank you enough.  How did you get around the barrier?”

“Superior firepower.”  Shepard grinned despite herself.

Williams was less amused, her tone flat.  “We found a mining laser.”

“I see.  Yes.”  T’Soni rubbed her wrist, flexing her fingers.  “That was clever.  How do you propose we leave the mine?”

Shepard glanced behind them.  “The service elevator’s shot.  If you can disable the barrier curtain, we can take this elevator up through the ruins and exit there.”

“Of course.”  She tapped out a few commands on the Prothean terminal.  The curtain fell away without a sound or shiver of protest.  “But we need to be careful.  The geth have a leader- a krogan.  He’s been coordinating their attacks.”

“We haven’t seen any krogan.”  Shepard thought about the dead miners.  That sort of tactic was, unfortunately, representative of organics, and the krogan weren’t known for their merciful natures.

“He’s here,” T’Soni said grimly.  “He stopped by to taunt me several times.  I am grateful you thought to use the laser before the idea occurred to him.”

Williams jerked her thumb towards the mine.  “Think what happened back there was his idea?”

“Probably.”  Shepard rubbed her forehead.

T’Soni glanced from face to face.  “What is it?”

Williams looked away.  Alenko took a breath before answering.  “Someone herded all the workers into a shelter, and turned them into hamburger with a machine gun.”

The asari blanched.  “Goddess.  I’m so sorry.”

Shepard avoided Williams’ sudden vindicated glare following this expression of empathy, and retreated to the elevator.  She got on the comm and let Joker know the threat was neutralized, and uploaded their coordinates for extraction.  The elevator ascended smoothly to the top of the mine.

A welcoming party was waiting for them as soon as they cleared the floor.  She immediately held up a hand to stop her squad from doing anything rash. 

There was a krogan at the head of squad of geth, arrayed in a short arc around the circular elevator platform.  He was grinning.  Shepard’s experience with krogan was limited, but this one seemed larger, and… off, somehow, in a way she couldn’t put her finger on.  Too large, his movements almost clumsy, not typical of a natural hunter. 

Whatever difficulties the krogan possessed, none of them stopped his mouth.  “Heh.  Thought you’d make a clean getaway.  This is the end of the line.”

“I don’t have time for this bullshit.”  She made a dismissive gesture.  “We’re leaving.  If they try to slow us down, shoot them.”

The krogan’s grin was fierce.  “Good.  I like it better this way.”

There was no time to think as they opened fire.  Shepard dove for a pillar that offered partial cover, her shoulder screaming complaints which she promptly ignored.  She braced the butt of her rifle against the Prothean architecture and started shooting her way around the circle.  The geth spread out, trying to flank them, a strategy that was likely to prove successful. 

One fell.  Shepard moved to the next.  “Protect our flank!”

Williams fired past her, at the geth working its way around to her pillar.  Alenko stayed with T’Soni, who was huddled behind the elevator console, shielding both of them as best he could while taking pot shots at the krogan.  As she watched, the krogan threw back his head and yelled some kind of war cry, before charging down the middle.

Shepard switched targets instantly and took out the krogan’s knee.  He collapsed with a howl, just before Alenko’s throw slammed him on his back.  She was about to shoot again when a savage ball of raw dark energy raked him from pelvis to neck.  The krogan twitched and was still.

Shepard frowned.  That wasn’t something in Alenko’s repertoire.  Dr. T’Soni was biting her lip, just now withdrawing the hand extended towards the dead krogan, and Shepard raised her eyebrows.  Maybe the asari had a spine after all.

Without their leader, the geth were disorganized and easily dispatched.  Her squad regrouped at the exit from the ruins.  Shepard got back on the comm.  “Joker, you here yet?”

“ETA five minutes, Commander.”

“Fine.  We’ll be right-“  She was interrupted as the whole shaft suddenly shook, forcing her to grab at the railing to stay upright.  “What the hell was that?”

T’Soni’s eyes flew wide.  “The laser.  You must have undermined the stability of this area.” 

Shepard swore and started running.  “Joker, we need out of here ASAP!”

His voice crackled with irritation.  “I’m moving as fast as I can.”

They raced through the mine, which was trembling violently now, and stinking of redolent sulfur.  Shepard paused at the gate and waved the others past her.  “Go, go, go!”

As she watched, the far walkway buckled and fell into the depths of the mine.  For a split second all she could do was stare in wonder and disbelief.  There was something awesome in the terrifying power of earth and gravity, still so much greater than anything in humanity’s arsenal, an uncaring enemy they couldn’t fight and barely contained with careful engineering.

The path shuddered continuously, the rumble deafening.  She heard a shout from up ahead, jerking her out of her daze.  Then survival instinct took over and she was running after her squad and the doctor, straining to outpace the destruction nipping at her heels.

They blew out of the shaft in a great cloud of dust, coughing and wheezing, but they made it.  Shepard bent double trying to catch her breath.  “Everyone ok?”

There was a chorus of “yes, ma’ams” and a relieved nod from T’Soni.  Her glance returned to the sky.  “Where the hell is my ship?”

Alenko, on the other hand, stared at the ground.  “Commander, I don’t think we’re out of the woods yet.”

Whole patches of rock were starting to collapse in spreading sinkholes as the mine beneath gave way.  The metal scaffolding on which they stood lurched alarmingly.  Shepard pressed her hand to her ear.  “JOKER!”

“I’m here, I’m here!”  The _Normandy_ all but fell out of the sky, so fast was her descent, and the shuttle bay popped open. 

“Move!”  Shepard hardly needed to give the order.  They got T’Soni on board, and swiftly jumped after her.  As soon as the final pair of boots touched the floor, the hatch snapped shut and the _Normandy_ streaked away from the deteriorating terrain.

The four of them dragged themselves into the main compartment of the lower deck before collapsing against a wall, taking deep breaths.  Shepard managed to remember just in time.  “Joker, our Mako’s still out there, beyond the valley.  If it’s not too dicey we need to retrieve it.”

“Aye, ma’am, already on my way.”

“Good.” She leaned back and closed her eyes.

Another voice came on the comm.  Pressly.  “Ma’am, we’re registering volcanic activity over the mine.”

Her eyes flew open. “We started a _volcano_?”

“Hard to say, but it sure looks like it.”

T’Soni was bereaved.  “I’d hoped it was only an earthquake.  Even Prothean construction won’t withstand magma flows.  All of that knowledge just… just gone.”

Alenko tried to be optimistic.  “It’s a huge loss, but at least you’re ok, and the geth are gone.”

“I suppose you’re right.”  The asari sighed and got to her feet, brushing dust from her tunic.  “So this is a human warship?  It’s very… dark.”

Shepard swiftly scanned the lot of them, taking inventory.  Everyone appeared shaken but unharmed.  T’Soni seemed half in a daze, whereas Alenko had already moved to a control panel to secure the inner hatch.  As for Williams, there was something sullen in the way she stalked across the shuttle bay that bespoke trouble.  Shepard shook her head.  _What else is new._

The commander lurched to a standing position, clutching her shoulder, and answered the asari’s unspoken question.  “It’s a hybrid design.  Turian and human.”

Alenko gave the injury a pointed glance.  “You really should have that looked at, Commander.”

“On my way, Lieutenant.”  She nodded at T’Soni, who was swooning slightly, one hand spread against the wall for balance.  “Someone should check her out, too.  She was in that cell awhile, no food, water, or sleep.”

Dr. T’Soni was distracted, her mind still lingering on the loss of the ruins.  Shepard repeated her concern.  The asari bit her lip.  “I feel fine, only a bit tired, but I suppose it couldn’t hurt to subject myself to the attentions of a medical professional.”

They rode the elevator up one deck to the med bay.  Chakwas was unruffled, her dry humor well intact.  “I’m happy to see you’ve at least avoided a head injury this time, Commander.”

Williams, tagging along, tried to roll with the joke, but there was an edge to her words that caused the humor to fall flat.  “Well, she’d already made us practice med-evac procedures once this month.”

“Quite.”  Chakwas’ gaze lingered on the younger woman a half-second, but she let the matter lie at that.  “Let’s have a look at that shoulder.”

Shepard sat on an exam table, unstrapping the damaged shoulder guard with Chakwas’ help.  “It’s not serious, just a bit of shrapnel or something buried in the muscle.  Honestly, I’m more annoyed at the time I’ll have to spend fixing this armor webbing.”

The exposed wound was an ugly red gash slick with medi-gel and surrounded by greenish-yellow bruising.  Chakwas clucked her tongue as she felt around the injury, Shepard gritting her teeth to stop herself from flinching.  A quick scan of the site with an omni-tool revealed the location of the shard.  “The first aid did its job and sealed it up.  Unfortunately, your shrapnel’s still inside.  I’m going to have to reopen it.”

“Great.”  Shepard lay back on the table and folded her hands over her stomach.  She wasn’t thrilled, exactly, but the procedure was scarcely unexpected.  No choice but to let the doctor do her work.

T’Soni crowded near, almost hovering.  “I didn’t realize you were hurt.”

“This isn’t hurt.  This is inconvenienced.”

Alenko leaned up against the next table over and folded his arms across his chest, half a smile on his face.  “Could’ve been worse.  Could’ve been another beacon down there, waiting to knock you out.”

“I think you meant ‘waiting to ensnare my L.T.’s overactive curiosity’, thus requiring me to save his ass again.”  She grinned.

He waved a hand, dismissing the remark.  “Details.”

Chakwas passed between them, a prepared needle in hand, and injected her shoulder with a strong local anesthetic.  Shepard couldn’t withhold her faint sigh of relief as blissful numbness spread through the site and banished the stabbing ache.  The doctor pulled away more of her armor and began swabbing the injury with antiseptic.

“Beacon?”  The asari, an archaeologist to her core, was instantly focused.  “What beacon?”

Alenko glanced at her.  “We found a Prothean artifact on Eden Prime.  It was carrying some kind of garbled message that imprinted directly on Commander Shepard’s brain.”

“Then it blew up.”  Williams snorted.  “Pretty crappy comm system.”

T’Soni was astonished.  “Yes, such things have been found before.  It’s extraordinarily rare to find one intact, much less operational.  Sometimes it almost seems like they were systematically disabled.  Small wonder the geth attacked your colony.”

“It’s not the geth.”  Shepard shifted slightly at the doctor’s direction, to give better access to the wound.  “The machines are just worker bees for a turian spectre named Saren Arterius.  We have a recorded conversation tying your mother to him.  They’re looking for something called the Conduit, and apparently that’s linked somehow to Prothean tech.”

Her expression clouded.  “Hence their interest in me.”

“Yes.”  Shepard watched her closely.  T’Soni’s face was pensive, mixed with a little anger and a little sadness.  “I got the impression things aren’t great between you and your mom.”

“That is an understatement.”  Her chuckle was dry and laced with self-deprecation.  “I know it sounds very self-pitying, but it’s never been easy, being the daughter of an influential matriarch.  I had everything I ever needed, yet she was always distant, and there were so many expectations placed on my shoulders.  I never truly felt like I knew what she was thinking, but this…”

“I can relate.  My mom’s not a galactic icon of progressive thought, but she’s very…”  Shepard searched for a word that was both diplomatic and true.  “Driven.”

Chakwas pulled another needle out of her flesh.  Shepard hadn’t even noticed it going in.  There was no feeling at all left in her shoulder.  Her attention returned to T’Soni.  “So you have no idea where this Conduit is?”

The asari shook her head.  “Nor even _what_ it is.  But maybe if I had a look at the data… I don’t know.  I could try.  I owe you that much.”

“Lie still.”  Dr. Chakwas pulled the sterile cover off a scalpel and braced the commander with one hand, while the other expertly drew a three-centimeter incision with the blade.  Shepard observed with morbid fascination. 

T’Soni blanched as blood welled from the cut and turned away.  Shepard was suddenly chagrined.  “You know, you don’t have to stay.  We can talk about this some other time.”

“No.”  If anything, her tone was more determined.  “You were hurt trying to rescue me.  I’m not going to be scared off by a little surgery.  It must have been… very bad on the surface.”

“I guess.”  She tried to shrug, but the doctor was holding her tight.  Chakwas’ expression was pure exasperation.  Shepard made more of an effort to keep still.

Williams exploded without warning, from smoldering to enraged in an eye blink.  “You _guess_?  The facility was completely overrun.  When we found those miners, you didn’t even flinch.  But you never do, do you?  You just walked all over those bodies at the spaceport too, wrinkling your nose ‘cause it smelled bad, never giving them a second glance-”

Alenko stiffened and snapped out a warning with a razor’s edge to it, an unusual tone for him.  “Drop it, Chief.” 

But Williams was relentless.  “And now we’re standing around an operating table like it’s a fucking tea party!  What is wrong with you?”

Shepard’s eyes blazed dangerously.  “Eden Prime wasn’t my fault Ash, nor was this.  I suggest you pull yourself together.”

“You’re so damn cold!  _Don’t you even care what happened to those people?_ ”

“Gunnery Chief Williams!”  Lt. Alenko’s voice thundered through the med bay. 

He was by nature a quiet man, not prone to rashness or overblown reactions.  Hearing him adopt the cold fury of a superior officer who had more than enough of this particular marine sent a ripple of shock through the room.  Even Chakwas paused to stare. 

It hit Williams like ice water, quenching her anger with a sudden sense of reckoning as she comprehended just how far behind her lay the line.  She drew herself to shaky attention in the ringing silence that followed, not meeting his eyes, and swallowed.  “Sir.”

“As of this moment, you are relieved of duty until further notice.  You are restricted to Deck 3.”  His words were clipped, completely out of patience.  “Dismissed.”

The chief saluted and hightailed it out the med bay, but not quite fast enough for Shepard to miss the flicker of relief on her face that it hadn’t been worse.  She turned to Alenko with a wry expression and raised an eyebrow.

He was still leaning against the exam table, looking at the hatch with profound irritation.  “She shouldn’t talk to you like that.  And you made it clear she’s my problem.”

Shepard suppressed a chuckle, surprised by the tiredness in her own voice, and lay back.  “Carry on, Lieutenant.”

Chakwas reached for a set of medical tweezers.  “If you are quite finished squirming about…”

“Sorry, doc.”

The remainder of the procedure went smoothly.  Chakwas found the shard of ceramic plating without difficulty, and pulled out needle and thread, explaining that the mobility of the site made it a poor candidate for surgical glue.  Shepard nodded absently- it didn’t make much difference to her. 

As Chakwas was tying off the last of the stitches and finishing her lecture on antibiotics, Shepard took the opportunity to draw her attention to their asari guest.  “We found Dr. T’Soni trapped in less than ideal conditions.  She’s probably dehydrated if nothing else.”

“Please.”  The asari was embarrassed.  “My name is Liara, and I’m certain your doctor has more important matters to attend.”

“Nonsense.”  Chakwas was firm, but smiling.  “I don’t often get to use my skills in treating aliens.  It would be my pleasure.”

The comm crackled to life, drawing all their attention to the ceiling.  Joker said, “Commander, I transmitted mission status back to Captain Anderson.  He wants to talk to you ASAP.  He doesn’t sound happy.”

“Tell the comm officer I’ll be there in ten minutes.”  She turned her attention to Chakwas.  “I’m free to go?”

At her nod, Shepard hopped off the table and made haste to her cabin, to strip off the damaged armor and climb into a clean uniform before taking the call- routine tasks made slightly awkward by the numbness in her shoulder.  From there it was a quick walk to the communications terminal.  It was hard to believe it was only recently that she argued with Nihlus in this very room before watching Eden Prime go up in flames- it felt like half a lifetime.

She hit the button, and a thin-lipped young woman in dress uniform materialized.  “Please hold for the ambassador’s office.”

It wasn’t more than a few minutes before Anderson joined her.  “Commander, I’ve just heard Joker’s status update.  Please tell me this is hyperbole.”

“Depends on what he told you, I guess.”  Shepard gestured towards the gauze strapped to her shoulder.  “I was getting patched up in med bay.”

She was, in truth, a bit annoyed that Joker did not seek permission before making the transmission.  It was protocol, sure, but the situation was delicate. 

Anderson, however, was blunt.  “A commercial mine and all its equipment ruined by your clumsiness- it was worth over ten million credits a year, did you know that?  Eldfell-Ashland will be filing a hell of a civil suit against the Alliance.”

Shepard was outraged.  “They were hiding a _geth incursion_.  We took care of it for them, though not before they lost a number of people thanks to their silence.  And they want to _sue us for property damage?_ ”

The captain ignored her.  “And worse- you destroyed a significant Prothean ruin, one with functional technology.  Money is one thing, but this could have us facing sanctions from the Council should they deem your actions avoidable.  Sanctions we can’t afford while fighting a war against the geth.”

She rubbed her face, suddenly exhausted by more than just the mission.  There was no escaping the damned politics, it seemed, even way out here in the ass end of nowhere.  Shepard met his eyes sullenly.  “What do you suggest, sir?”

“The Council is going to want a word with you, eventually.  I _suggest_ you keep your temper.  Give them the facts, and don’t argue.  That’s an order.”  Captain Anderson sighed, and massaged his temple.  “Did you manage to secure Dr. T’Soni, at least?”

She nodded, affirmative.  “Yes, sir.  She used the Prothean ruins to protect herself from the geth, but the same mechanism trapped her as well.  She’s thirsty and tired, but nothing too serious.  Dr. Chakwas is seeing to her.”

“So she wasn’t leading them.”  Anderson’s expression was pensive.  “You trust her?  You think she was a victim in all this?”

“I don’t know what I think,” Shepard answered honestly.  “My gut says yes, but my head says keep an eye on her.  She claims not to know anything about the Conduit or her mother’s extracurricular activities.  Even so, her understanding of the Protheans could prove invaluable, and she’s very grateful for our rescue.”

“Hmm.”  He rested his chin in his hand, contemplating for a long moment.  “Keep her close, then.  Don’t allow her to make unmonitored transmissions or wander off ship until you’re certain.”

She saluted.  “Yes, sir.”

He reached for the disconnect.  “And Shepard?  If you’re right and the asari isn’t involved, you’re going to need a new lead fast.  The media is eating us for breakfast over Eden Prime.  It’s starting to have real consequences- the colonization industry is taking a significant hit, and the fleets are stretched thin trying to safeguard too much territory.  We need to show we’re doing something.”

“We are, sir.”  Her mouth turned up at one side, aware of the hubris, but unable to stop the smart-aleck reply.  “We sent me.”

He shook his head and resisted the bait.  “Anderson out.”


	18. Commander's Prerogative

Shepard was growing awfully tired of flying awake in the dead of night.  Rising chased the final figments of nightmare back into hiding, but the fitful rest was beginning to take a toll on her acuity.  A little wistfully, she wished she could blame the beacon for this one, but she had plenty of her own ghosts long before she set foot on Eden Prime.  Whenever the Prothean vision rested they were happy to play.

Some water on her face and a trip to the microwave later, and she curled up on her cabin’s couch with a mug of hot chocolate and a collection of reports on her datapad, only too aware that the key to banishing this particular bad dream lay with the solution to Kahoku’s puzzle.  Losing people under her command was sadly familiar, and his story would have weighed on her for that alone; but losing them in this fashion, a ship that disappeared into the void… that struck a nerve.

The hiss and pop of static from a recorded comm feed filled the small cabin.  There was no excuse for listening; if the _Normandy_ VI couldn’t find a pattern in the silence, it was damn unlikely Shepard would.  And it wasn’t as if the noise was pleasant- on the contrary, it was harsh and sullen.  Maybe it gave her the illusion of productivity to once again rifled through the scant information.  It was a side task since they arrived in Artemis Tau, easy enough to complete while they searched for T’Soni, but now they had the doctor in hand and it was harder for Shepard to justify resource expenditure continuing to look for Kahoku’s missing soldiers.

The details were sketchy at best.  Seven marines from the Fourth Frontier Division, whose patrol territory included Artemis Tau, plus a pilot and a communications specialist, took a corvette to scout the region for clues regarding Armistan Banes’ death.  Corvette class wasn’t much of a ship- barely enough room for ten people and some survey equipment- and it wasn’t intended for long voyages.  It needed to return to its flagship every few weeks at the outside. 

The similarities between their mission and her own deeper into batarian space a year past weren’t lost on Shepard.  It was what was keeping her up like this.

A corvette was a very small ship to live on for even a single week.  These scouts had been missing for more than two months.  Shepard believed what she told the admiral, that his men were likely lost, and that the ship would be the next best thing to impossible to locate.  But here she was, trying.  If she left the cluster without making something like a serious attempt on the problem, it would cost her.  That was why she hadn’t wanted to get involved in the first place.

_This won’t bring Chahine back_ , the voice of her subconscious whispered, mistrusting this exercise.  _It won’t undo the things that happened on that ship._

She pushed the dark warnings away, aware this activity wasn’t entirely rational, and not much caring.  What was the point of being a spectre if she couldn’t exercise her own judgment, after all?  Prudence and pragmatism she could get from the same Alliance who deemed this a fool’s errand. 

Banes’ ship was found drifting on the very edge of the Sparta system.  They’d surveyed that region only cursorily while searching for Liara.  Of the four charted systems in Artemis Tau, Sparta was the least beloved by the Protheans, and thus least likely to attract an archaeologist.  But they’d found nothing of the marines anywhere else.  Maybe it deserved a closer look.  Or maybe she should conserve the considerable fuel traveling back to the system would cost the _Normandy_ , and keep focused on Saren.

Not that she had any better idea where to go next on _that_ mission, either.

Shepard threw down the datapad, frustrated.  It bounced off her coffee table with an unsettling crack.  She let it lie, wrapping her arms around her knees and trying not to dwell on how exhausted she was, or how hopeless their task seemed in the harsh light of very early morning.  Things would look better tomorrow, when she could gather her crew and make a real start on this data, get a few more bodies working on the task.  She’d do it now, but it was late in the third shift, and nobody would be at their best. 

She realized her mind was decided.  All that was left was to give the order.  Shepard glanced at the ceiling.  “Get me the bridge.”

There was a pause, before a voice laden with the dregs of sleep slurred a response.  “Commander.  Ma’am.  What?”

“Joker, don’t you ever leave that chair?”

“Only when I gotta shower or use the head.  Takes too long to get back when she needs me.”  There was real affection in his voice.  She pictured him fussily brushing dust from the _Normandy’s_ flight console, and shook her head.  Some waters were too deep to wade.

Still, he was awake now, and Shepard took full advantage.  “I want to take us back to Sparta.”

Joker didn’t disguise his surprise.  “What, right now?”

“Pressly’s flight plan from last week should still be valid,” she answered steadily.  “We can do a mid-course correction in the morning if necessary.”

Joker grumbled.  “I deserve a damn medal after pulling you out of a _freaking volcano_ , and instead you’re waking me up at ass o’clock in the morning-“

“Joker,” she sighed, tiredly.  “Do I sound like I’m in the mood for this?”

He coughed.  “Aye, ma’am, cuing up the flight plan now.”  Another pause.  “Correcting for drift, it should take us about three days to get there.”

“Do it.  Shepard out.”  The VI cut off the intercom, leaving Shepard to her own thoughts. 

The Asimov novel she borrowed from Alenko lay open on the arm of the couch.  After a moment, she stretched across to retrieve it, flipping back a page.  She’d been called away in the middle of a paragraph to look at some infrared images one of the specialists up in the CIC thought might be geth, despite the geth running colder than Satan’s own air conditioner.  And then it was a small coolant leak in the drive core chamber.  And then a mix-up concerning the duty roster.  And then, and then, and then.

Well, she had time to read now.  Across the pages of the book, Siferra 89 stalked the sands of Beklimot, barking orders at her survey team, refusing to bow in defeat to the sandstorm that was coming to ravage their camp.  Shepard wondered if Liara was like that at her own digs.  It was difficult to picture the bookish archaeologist taking charge.  Then again, battling unfavorable odds was more Shepard’s arena- perhaps, in her own sphere, the doctor was more self-assured.

Certainly Liara was no soldier.  Siferra would have made a model Alliance officer, collected and defiant to the last, even while privately half-convinced that her own arrogance led her colleagues and students to their deaths.  There was no room for doubt in dire situations.  Doubts were for after, for when people were safe again.  Shepard wished more people in the real world could understand that principle.  And Siferra and she had shared the misfortune of a terrible discovery that could threaten their respective civilizations, greeted only with contempt by their superiors.  On that point, Shepard was free of all reservation- the reapers destroyed the Prothean Empire.

_Maybe they had no warning._   The logic was placating, but failed to banish her misgivings.  The Protheans built the Citadel, the relays, left their fingerprints on who knew how many worlds.  The Council’s policy of fully exploring relays before pressing them into service slowed expansion considerably.  Maybe less territory to defend, but maybe fewer resources to exploit, too, in all-out war.  If their august predecessors lacked the might to stand unbroken before the synthetics’ so-called gods, who was she kidding?

_It won’t come to that_ , she told herself, firmly, lifting the book once more.  They were going to beat Saren to whatever this “Conduit” might be, and circumvent the reapers’ plan.  There were no other options Shepard was willing to entertain.  Firmly, she focused on the story, allowing its pages to carry her thoughts away from pointless fretting.

The commander read deep into the night before sleep at last found her again.

/\/\/\/\/\

Her feet pounded against the metal deck in a way that seemed overly loud in the confines of the _Normandy_.  It took all three decks to get a good circuit- a big loop around the shuttle bay, avoiding the bulk of the Mako, run in place on the elevator up to the mess, circle around the tables and down through the battery, then up the stairs to the CIC and follow the curve of the banister until it reached the other flight of stairs that took her back to the elevator for the next circuit.  Some days, she thought if mag boots were more efficient, and the plasma wash less hazardous, it would be far simpler to make use of the airlock and run along the underside of the ship.

Or maybe in concertina spirals around the fuselage, she mused, darting to the side to avoid an early riser retrieving his morning cup of coffee.

Shepard was running this morning as much to wake herself as for the exercise.  Maybe it was time to take Chakwas’ offer of a sedative seriously, but she still worried that if there was an emergency in the night, the medication’s grip would be too tight to meet it.  At the same time nobody could live on a few hours’ sleep a day indefinitely, not even her.  _You’d think all the illicit genemod scientists who fled to the Terminus would’ve produced a way to eliminate the need to rest by now._

The lukewarm shower that followed was effective in its own right at dragging her out of her exhaustion.  There was something very satisfying in washing away the sweat and grime with good clean soap, watching it drift down the drain into the _Normandy’s_ reclamation tanks.  By the time she was dressed and her hair dry, she felt ready to face the day.

She called together the senior officers as well as their communications personnel for an early meeting in the comm room.  Technically, it was breakfast.  There were more than a few sleepy stares and hastily snagged pieces of toast floating around the room.  On the screen, Shepard primed a simulation of the Sparta system with all the known information about Kahoku’s team.

She folded her hands behind her and said, briskly, “This morning I ordered our helmsman to return to Sparta.  After the events of Therum, any Alliance presence in this sector will be focused on defensive measures for our outposts.  This may be the last opportunity for quite some time that anybody is in a position to locate the missing scouting sortie sent by the rear admiral.”

Pressly’s objection was immediate.   “Commander, Sparta is something like four days out of our way.”

“More like three,” she replied, keeping it pleasant.  “You have concerns?”

“Now you’re a navigator, ma’am?”  He pursed his lips.  “Regardless, this is…  Wouldn’t our time be better spent looking for Saren?”

“I’d love to.  Where do you think we should try next?”

Pressly looked away.  Shepard let her silence comment on that for a moment, before returning to the map, ignoring the glances of consensus exchanged between her crew. 

“Admiral Kahoku found Banes’ ship here.”  She pointed.  “Well outside the orbit of the outermost planet and on an escape trajectory.  Someone caught him while he was making for the mass relay.  Why this system?  No habitable planets, no place to hunker down and hide, from the Alliance or anyone else.  So we have to conclude he died for something he found here.”

Alenko was clutching a mug of tea like his life depended on it, obviously not a morning person.  He cleared his throat.  “Ma’am, the odds that any of those men are still alive are minimal.”

“I’m aware of the facts.”  Shepard looked around the room, seeing the doubt on their faces.  Alenko was more diplomatic than Pressly, but neither officer was saying anything the rest weren’t thinking.  “I’m not anticipating this will be a rescue operation.  I’d like to know what happened to them- not only to bring their families peace of mind, but because if two scouting parties, Banes and Kahoku’s men, can go missing in the same sector, it might be worth knowing why.”

She leaned against the thin rail that guarded the plethora of screens and holopads, tapping her fingers against the metal a few times.  “Finding Saren isn’t likely to be a quick or a simple endeavor.  We’re still pressing the leads we have.  In the meantime, we’re the most advanced surveillance ship in the Alliance fleet.  We have an obligation to assist other operations where it doesn’t interfere with our primary mission.  Understood?”

There were a few troubled faces, but affirmation came readily enough.  Shepard could live with that.  Alenko, however, was watching her closely, like he didn’t quite buy her rationale- sensibly so, seeing as she didn’t believe it either.  She ignored his scrutiny.  “I want to spend our travel time reviewing our previous scans.  The first pass we were only looking for maydays on Alliance frequencies.  We should parse it again looking for anything out of the ordinary that might hint at where these men went or what they found.”

“There are some colonial frequencies we haven’t tried yet,” one of the communications staff, Specialist Lowe, answered reluctantly.

Her colleague, Serviceman Bakari, chimed in with relatively greater enthusiasm.  “We could also check the sub-relays.  Maybe their transponder failed.  The system’s not more than twenty light-hours across, so any emergency signal like that would be everywhere by now.”

That perked Shepard’s interest.  “Can we check sub-relay frequencies while the FTL drive is engaged?”

They exchanged a glance.  “We’ll have to jury-rig it…”

“The _Normandy’s_ plasma sheath’s gonna play merry hell with the signal…”  She chewed her lip.  “Maybe.”

“Try it.”  She shifted her attention to Pressly.  “Sound an alert when we’re two light months from Sparta, so we can start examining those signals.”

He nodded.  “Aye aye, Commander.”

“Alenko.”  She turned to the staff lieutenant.  “If we find them, we don’t know what kind of situation we’re going to be dealing with.  Could be a boarding, could be a landing, could be something else altogether.  I need our marines ready to go as soon as we get a signal.”

He thought about it for a few beats, running strategies in his head.  “We’ve trained for just about anything, but you’re talking about several scenarios requiring very different tactics, with little notice before we go.”

“Welcome to special operations, Lieutenant.  Can they be ready?”

Alenko’s expression turned inward as he considered, before he nodded, firmly.  “Yes, ma’am.”

Shepard smiled.  “Alright.  We’ve got a plan, people.  You know what to do.  Dismissed.”

As the room dispersed, Alenko wandered over.  He waited a moment for the last of the stragglers to leave.  “So, you want to tell me what’s up?”

“’What’s up’?”  Shepard continued unloading the display, unconcerned.

He snorted.  “Look, Commander, I’ve been a marine for ten years.  You spin some pretty fine bullshit, but I know it when I see it.  What’s the real story here?  Why are we doing this?”

She hesitated a moment before deciding to simply use the truth.  “I can’t tell you.”

“I get that you don’t want to talk about it for whatever reason, but if it’s endangering the crew-“

“No, I mean, I really can’t tell you.”  Shepard snagged the data disk and shut the terminal down.  “It’s classified above your level.  I’d go to prison.”

His eyebrows knitted in confusion.  “I’ve got clearance for everything-”

“No, you don’t,” she said, with more patience than she felt.  Her missions inside batarian space were code word if anything was.  “I checked everyone’s dossier when Anderson made me X.O.  And even if you did there’s no need-to-know.”

That last slipped out without thinking, and she cursed herself as he pounced on it.  “So this doesn’t have anything to do with the mission.  It’s personal.”

Shepard threw up her hands.  “Is it really so terrible that someone go looking for these people?”

He studied her, crossing his arms over his chest, before shaking his head.  “No.  I’m not going to deny there’s something noble about trying after everyone else gave up.  But we don’t know what happened to them, and we don’t know what’s waiting for us if and when we find them, except it’s likely to be bad.  Nobody wants to die for a corpse.”

“How many of them would die for the corpses on Eden Prime?” Shepard shot back, pointing towards the hatch that led into the CIC.  “What makes these corpses any different?”

To her surprise, he frowned, but didn’t argue.  “That’s a fair point, ma’am.  I don’t know.  We didn’t fail to stop this happening, I guess.”

Her face softened.  She rubbed her eyes, tiredly.  “The invasion was already half over by the time we picked up Williams’ transmission.  There was nothing we could have done to stop Saren on Eden Prime short of bombing the whole place from orbit.”

“Yeah, I know.”  Alenko shifted his weight and glanced away for a second.  “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

His expression was conflicted, acknowledging the truth but unable to shake the regret.  Shepard recalled his flippant comment about the “great wandering hero saving the universe”, and was struck by a sudden rush of affection for him as the realization hit her.  “You really did want to help people.  That’s why you signed up.”

“I do help people,” he shot back, more defensive than expected.

She held up her hands.  “No argument here.”

He shrugged, almost self-consciously, and started heading for the door.  Almost despite herself, she called after him.  “Alenko.”

Momentary confusion was replaced by chagrin.  “I’m sorry, ma’am, I guess you didn’t dismiss me.”

“What?”  For a second, Shepard herself was confused.  She shook her head.  “No, that wasn’t- never mind.  I wanted to say I wish I could explain.  Truly.”

Alenko processed that.  “Why?”

“Because I think you’d be nice about it,” she said honestly.  “Most people wouldn’t.”

He nearly smiled at that, and stuck his hands in his pockets.  “Well, ma’am, if you have anything that’s not legally proscribed, I’m a decent listener.”

“Too good, maybe.  You have a knack for dragging stories out of me without even trying.”  Shepard crossed her arms and leaned against the guard rail, exasperated but not really minding.

He laughed.  “Not a complaint I’ve heard before.”

She grinned back, and started to make a coy reply, before her brain gave her a metaphorical kick in the shins.  _Nathaly, what the hell are you doing?_  

Suddenly self-conscious, she looked down, fiddling with the data disk, and switched tactics.  “I think that’s everything, Lieutenant.  Dismissed.”

“Ma’am.”  Alenko headed back into the CIC to start making plans.

Shepard rubbed her face, thinking back over the conversation, and decided she was blowing things out of proportion.  She reset the terminal and took the elevator back to her cabin to sort through the latest round of reports.

/\/\/\/\/\

It was after lunch when Shepard made her way down to the shuttle bay to check in with logistics.  Therum was just this side of habitable, but it got her worried about extreme environments, and if they had the gear to handle such a landing.

Williams had taken over a large portside table, with what looked like half the arms on the ship strewn over the surface, and a dirty rag in hand.  Shepard pursed her lips and decided to get it over with.

The chief dropped what she was doing and saluted as Shepard approached.  “Ma’am.”

“At ease, Chief.”  Shepard surveyed the work.  “Cleaning out our guns?”

“The L.T. said to keep going until every firearm on the _Normandy_ is shiny like new, or he tells me to stop.”  Williams grimaced.  “Don’t suppose you’d care to countermand that, ma’am?”

“Don’t suppose I would.”  She picked up one of the finished rifles and slid it into combat configuration.  The parts moved silently and seamlessly past each other, not too slippery, not too stiff.  The work was solid and complete, despite Williams being nearly unsupervised and with an axe to grind.  Shepard told her so.

Williams shrugged.  “I don’t forget what they taught us in basic, ma’am, even if from the state of things half these grunts do.”

She eyed the assorted weaponry with something between disbelief and disgust, and Shepard had to struggle to swallow a laugh.  It was true that most marines didn’t gunk out the works as often as they should.  It was a tedious and time-consuming task, making it just about perfect as punishment details went.

Shepard leaned on the table.  “Your memory seems awful spotty when it comes to the part about respecting chain of command.”

There was no malice in her tone, no attempt to rub it in.  The statement was more an invitation.

Williams swallowed.  “I’m sorry about that, ma’am.  The _Normandy_ did her best.  I just wish…”

“…we’d gotten there a little sooner,” Shepard finished, quietly.  “So do I.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Shepard reset the gun to its holstered configuration and set it aside, buying a little time while she tried to figure out what to say.  “You know, I was invited to Rio for Interplanetary Combatives Training when I was nineteen.  I’ve been doing this about ten years, give or take.”

“Do you get a commemorative watch for that?” Williams spat out before she could stop herself.  She colored.  “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Careful, Chief, you’ll wear out the word.”  Shepard rubbed the side of her nose and sat down on the edge of the table fully, her feet hanging over the floor.  “Look, you’re technically still relieved so I’m going to take off my officer hat for a minute and speak candidly.  You think I’m not being properly sympathetic to you.”

“I didn’t-“

She overrode her protests.  “My point in mentioning my history with spec ops is that by the time they send me into a situation, it’s a safe bet that things are fairly fucked already.  Eden Prime, Akuze, down there in that mine… I’ve seen a lot of that.  I’ve had some time to think about it.”

Shepard was half-expecting another bout of sarcasm, but Williams seemed to be listening now.  The chief fidgeted with the rag a few seconds.  “And what did you find out?”

“That we’re not meant for this.  Humans.  We’re not built to deal with it.”  She shrugged.  “Those kinds of experiences tear you into tiny pieces, and what gets put back together isn’t always particularly charming.”

Williams made a small sound, a kind of subconscious scoff.  A little flippancy oozed back in.  Alenko was right about one thing- it was clearly self-defensive.  She wasn’t processing events of the last few weeks well.  “This is the part where you tell me they make you stronger?”

“They do make you tough,” Shepard acknowledged.  “Is it worth it?  Hell if I know.  Someone’s got to do it.  Might as well be someone who’s already got the scars.  It’s piss poor logistics otherwise.”

“And which scars are those?”  There was more than a little curiosity in the question.

Williams needed to know how someone could live with that kind of burden, in the long run.  She needed to understand how to survive it.  Knowing that made Shepard more honest than she liked regarding things this personal.  “I don’t sleep well.  Haven’t for years.  I understand people easily but relating is difficult.  There are drawers in my head I don’t open.”

The chief’s open expression soured.  She looked away and took up the rag again.  “Compartmentalization.”

“You do remember your training after all.”  Shepard folded her arms, bemused.

“I don’t want to…”  Williams picked up a gun, put it back down.  “I hate that I can’t get it out of my head.  But I don’t want to forget either.  I don’t want it to mean nothing.  If I let go…”

“Don’t mistake doing what is required to protect yourself for forgetting.  You have a right to survive.  If it gets into the core of you, it’ll eat you alive.  That’s what it wants.”  Shepard shook her head and stared at the ceiling.  “Maybe you’ll find a better way.  I never did.”

She turned it over for a few long moments.  “I think I understand what you’re saying.  It’s not easy.”

“Never said it would be.  But you took the oath like everyone else.”  Shepard hopped off the table.  “And for the record, Ash, I care.  I care a lot.  If I didn’t, I’d be out in the Terminus making absolutely stupid amounts of money.”

Williams caught the lighthearted change of tone, and snorted disbelief.  “How’s that, ma’am?”

“I worked with this merc out there once.  Long story.  At the end of the mission, he said he could get me a contract if I was interested.”  Shepard sighed.  “I’m not even going to tell you what he quoted me, it’d make you cry every time you got your pay for months.”

The intercom interrupted their conversation.  Pressly still sounded thoroughly annoyed by his assignment.  “Commander, we have some data for you in the CIC.”

“Be right up.”  She clapped Williams on the back.  “Keep at it. I’m sure those weapons will be clean in no time.”

Williams made a face.  “Yes, ma’am.”

Two decks up, the communications team had pulled together a report on the Sparta system.  It was a miserable place even by Traverse standards.  Not one habitable planet, though its two asteroid belts had attracted a fair amount of mining interest from humans and batarians alike.  Low-gravity, high-yield worldlets were appealing from a logistics standpoint, though more initial investment in equipment was required.  Some of the better companies had centripetal smelters that could engulf entire asteroids in their bays.

The plentiful planetoids also made it quite difficult to parse small objects, like ships, from their earlier ladar scans.  The first pass nobody gave it much effort.  They expected to find T’Soni on the ground.  Now they’d gone back through, eliminating targets from cartographic databases, and projecting orbits and assigning mass estimates to each remaining unknown object.  Modern VI processing was astounding; with a scant twenty-four hours of coverage, the ship’s computer was able to eliminate all but about a hundred targets as possibilities.  Most of those were muddied in the asteroid belts.  Shepard much doubted the corvette would be there.  Dismissing those left twenty candidates.

Explaining their methods and results took a solid hour, in the half-dark of the CIC.  The information was pertinent, but Shepard had to fight to suppress her yawns.  There was a reason she went to school on the extranet- lectures put her to sleep even when her energy tanks were topped off.  Well, that and she hadn’t wanted to go in the first place.  Her then-C.O. talked her into it- thought she’d make a brilliant officer, and it was a requirement to enter Officer Candidate School.  And, not incidentally, becoming an officer was the only route to make her then-probationary N1 commendation permanent.

_And isn’t that paying out._ Back then it seemed like officers had it made, with better pay, better jobs, and all the glory when things went right.  Even growing up as her mother’s daughter, Shepard was able to ignore the reality of responsibility right up until the moment it smacked into her.  And even Hannah never mentioned the sleepless nights.  God, but she would kill for a nap, just shut her eyes for ten minutes.  Maybe thirty.

_I should’ve been a race car driver.  Lots of excitement, no routine late nights.  I’d’ve been great at it._

“Ma’am?”  Specialist Lowe had paused, laser in hand, evidently awaiting her attention.

Shepard cleared her throat, brushing aside the childish daydream, and rapidly skimmed the screen.  “Do we know where to find these twenty targets when we arrive in the Sparta system?”

“We have only crude orbital data.  The projections aren’t very good, with such a small time sample, and factoring in gravitational influence from the non-solar objects, the geometric calculations are-“

“-complicated.  Right.”  Shepard folded her hands on her knee.  “Let me put it another way.  How likely are we to find any of them?”

Lowe opened her mouth, doubtless to spew more prevarications couched in jargon, but Bakari beat her to it.  “Commander, ma’am, what Specialist Lowe is trying to say is the margin of error is large.  It’ll take some time to reacquire the targets when we drop out of FTL.”

“Damn it.”  Shepard sat back.  “This is our best shot.  A corvette’s tiny.  Air and water are no problem, but if there’s any chance they’re still alive, it’s going to be a question of other resources.”

Bakari tried for conciliatory.  “Ma’am, they’ve been out here for months.  Another few days while we finish our scans and work the calculations can’t hurt.”

“You have no idea how long even a minute lasts in circumstances like these.”  Each syllable was clipped and frosty. 

“And what circumstances are those, ma’am?  We have no clue what happened here.”

“Which is exactly why we’re going to find out.”

The pair of comm techs exchanged a glance.  Lowe was bravest.  “Commander Shepard, we’re doing all we can.”

They were both watching her with a mixture of frustration, confusion, and apprehension.  She put her hand to her forehead.  The last few sleepless nights were clearly getting the better of her.  “All I’m saying is let’s do our best here, alright?  If it takes a few days that’s how long it takes.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  They both turned to each other, still clearly apprehensive, as she rose to go.

Shepard paused, glancing over her shoulder.  “Good work.  I know orbital mechanics aren’t your specialties, but I appreciate it.”

They stood a little straighter.  Bakari might have even smiled a bit.  She left them to head down to engineering for the next thing on the list.

By the time dinner rolled around, she felt like she was walking through mud, every step dragging.  A small frigate like the _Normandy_ didn’t rate a full kitchen or staff to fix the meals, so they had nonperishable snack food and frozen par-cooked meal packages that got finished off in a machine specifically engineered for that purpose.  They weren’t MREs- you couldn’t eat them straight out of storage- but they weren’t beloved by the crew, either.  Food remained the most requested item from home.

Generally at meal times it was someone’s duty to start running the packages through so the incoming crew could snag their ration without generating huge lines and the resultant schedule delays.  Shepard grabbed her vegetarian option from its smaller, separate freezer, slipped it into the queue, and waited for the machine to do its work before retreating to the lounge area to eat.

The area wasn’t much to look at, just a collection of somewhat more comfortable couches than could be found on the bridge, a few vid terminals, and a couple shelves of books, but on a ship where most of the crew hot bunked in sleeper pods it provided some much-needed relaxation space.  Technically, food was supposed to remain confined to the mess, but as long as nobody trashed the place, Shepard was inclined to leniency on that particular reg.  What the hell good was a movie without any popcorn, anyway?

She settled down and clicked on the news, picking up her fork.

“Commander?”

Shepard’s head jerked up.  A different newscaster was nattering away on the vid terminal, and her food was cold in her lap.  Alenko and T’Soni were staring down at her with concern.  Shepard blinked away the fog and cleared her throat.  “Hi.  What?”

“You kind of fell asleep there.”  Alenko was at once amused and faintly worried. 

She looked around.  The mess was quiet now, so her unplanned nap lasted at least thirty minutes.  “I guess I did.”

He folded his arms on top of the opposite couch, not unsympathetically.  “The beacon still giving you nightmares?”

“Sort of,” she answered vaguely.  She stabbed a piece of cauliflower and popped it in her mouth.  The sauce wasn’t half-bad cold, though thicker than was her taste.

T’Soni’s not-eyebrows knit together in confusion.  “The message from the beacon is troubling your sleep?  I know Prothean interfaces are scarcely designed for a human mind, but that reaction still strikes me as extreme.”

“It wasn’t exactly storing a grocery list, Liara.”  She sighed and scooped some of the rice into the sauce. 

The doctor tentatively perched on a couch, her palms flat against her knees.  “I don’t wish to intrude, but you must understand, an operational beacon is a once-in-a-lifetime find.  I’m intensely curious.  The Protheans have been my specialty since graduate school.”

Shepard was interested despite herself.  “What exactly caught your attention about them?”

“A race with the scientific understanding and vision necessary to build something like the mass relay network vanishes practically overnight, leaving no survivors, nor real records other than their ruins?”  Her face was alight.  “The record is so clean that it’s almost as if something came after they were gone and tidied up.  How is that not fascinating?”

The words made Shepard’s blood run cold.  She exchanged a glance with Alenko, seeing the same thought written on his face, and he asked, carefully, “Is this is a real theory, doctor, or just speculation?”

She appeared almost sad for a moment, though no less earnest.  “That depends who you ask.  I’m afraid I am very young for an asari, and my research does not always receive the attention it deserves.  But the demise of the Prothean Empire is at the heart of my work.  After fifty years of study that is my conclusion, but I lack a… well, an agent, something to explain my findings.”

Shepard ate a few more bites, chewing slowly.  “I have a theory of my own about that.”

“Really?  I had no idea you were an enthusiast.”

“I’m not.”  She set down her fork.  “The information stored in the beacon on Eden Prime concerned the fall of the Protheans.  It wasn’t a natural end.  They were destroyed by something vastly more powerful.”

Liara was by now leaning so far forward she was in danger of falling off the seat.  “And what was that?”

Carnage from the last Prothean battlegrounds flashed through the background of Shepard’s mind.  In light of the archaeologist’s breathless enthusiasm, she felt faintly ill.

Alenko’s attention was still on the scientist.  “You didn’t ask us why Saren and your mother are searching for old Prothean tech.  They believe the Conduit is the key to realizing the return of something they called ‘reapers’.”

“This is the first time I’ve heard that term.  What does it mean?”

“We’re not sure.”  Alenko shrugged.  “If you ask Tali- the quarian down in engineering- they’re a mythical race of sentient machines deified in some form of geth religion.”

Liara was nonplussed.  “Synthetics don’t have religion.”

Shepard shook her head.  “I’m not sure religion is the right word.  But Saren, and your mother, believe the reapers are real.  It squares with the images I got from the beacon.”

The doctor looked from one of them to other, as if waiting for the joke, but found both their faces entirely sober.  “And you believe this?”

“Yes,” Shepard said, simply.  “I know how it sounds, but I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

“If she believes it, that’s good enough for me,” Alenko chimed in.

Liara digested that.  “And my mother wants to _bring them back_?”

Alenko attempted to moderate the statement, a kind of cold comfort.  “We’re not sure of anything right now.  All we know is Benezia is working with Saren, and they’re scouring the Traverse for the Conduit.”

Shepard sat back and crossed her arms.  “It sure looks like it though.”

Liara got to her feet and paced a few steps in the tight confines of the lounge.  “My mother would never do anything to harm the asari.  To think it is like watching the sky fall in.  There’s got to be more to this.”

Shepard hoped so, for her sake, but privately doubted it.  “We won’t know until we find her, and right now, we have no idea where to look.”

The doctor turned away for a long moment, her shoulders moving up and down with a deep intake of breath.  “Yes.  I will see what I can do.”

Shepard reached over and touched her hand.  “Thank you.  I know this can’t be easy.”

“No.”  The asari gave herself a small shake.  “I will return to my work.  Dr. Chakwas has kindly allowed me to take over a portion of the med bay’s laboratory.”

She started to walk away, then paused and turned back.  “Shepard, if the beacon’s visions are troubling you, I may be able to offer some assistance.  My people’s biotic gifts make us very adept at navigating the difficult terrain of the mind.”

“What?”

“I could meld my mind with yours,” Liara clarified.  “It would not be unpleasant, I assure you.”

Shepard was taken aback, and tried not to look as repulsed as she felt at the idea of letting anyone else inside her skull.  It was an obvious cultural misalignment; Liara clearly believed she was offering a gift.  “No thanks.  If I can’t sort it out myself I doubt any asari magic would help.”

“It’s not magic.  I could help you examine those memories, perhaps make greater sense of them, given my own background.  It might bring you peace.”

“No, thank you,” Shepard repeated, firmly.

If Liara was hurt by the rejection she hid it well.  “As you prefer.  I will return to the med bay now.”

They watched her go.  After a long moment, Alenko voiced the question they were both thinking.  “Did she just…”

“I don’t know.”  If there was one thing everyone knew about asari, it was their reputation for cross-species promiscuity, including what humans referred to colloquially as mind sex.  It was the only kind of mental melding Shepard had heard of.  “I have to assume there’s more to it in asari culture.  I mean, it didn’t sound like…”

She trailed off, the conversation growing awkward.  That was a complication she really didn’t need. 

Alenko turned towards the vid terminal and cleared his throat, grasping at a change of subject.  “Hey, look.  They’re still running stories about you.”

An ANN reporter with a penetrating stare and an aura of offense was speaking into the camera.  His exaggerated tone of suspicion rubbed her wrong long before she understood what he was driving at.  “We’ve all heard the official story from the Alliance.  But what lies behind the PR?  Tonight, new revelations from some of Commander Shepard’s own family and friends.”

The camera cut to a dark-haired young woman in Alliance utilities.  Shepard’s expression soured. 

To the camera, the interviewee tossed her head, sending her pony tail bouncing.  “Even growing up, there was always something different about her, you know?  When her dad almost died, she didn’t even cry.  It’s like she’s a robot.  Just point her in the right direction and stay out of her way.”

Alenko reached over and flicked the terminal off.

“My cousin, Mariana,” Shepard said into the silence that followed.  “Lovely woman.  Always looking for her fifteen minutes.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say.  “She’s your cousin?”

“On my dad’s side, yeah.”  She speared another piece of ice-cold cauliflower.  “It’s complicated.  Almost all his family’s Alliance, but they’re mainly enlisted, and my dad married an officer.” She coughed.  “His duty officer, to be precise.  And ever since they’ve had this idea in their heads that we think we’re better than them.”

The words beneath her uncaring tone were brittle.  He bit his lip.  “Still, that’s a nasty thing to say in public like that.”

“I’m not saying I’m not retroactively glad I spat in her Cheerios when we were nine.”  She gave him a half-smile that was neither happy nor particularly upset, just resigned, and shrugged.  “C’mon, did you really think Ash’s outburst was the first time I’ve heard that?  I know what I am.  It just means now I really have to give that interview when we get back to the Citadel, to give them something else to chew over.”

At first it seemed as though he would push the subject, but instead he chose to take the hint, relaxing a fraction.  “You spat in her cereal?”

“She deserved it.”  Shepard sat back, utterly smug.  “Trust me.”


	19. Kahoku's Missing Men

Commander Nathaly Shepard stood in the CIC with her arms folded across her chest, taking in the latest, and likely final, round of ladar scans.  “So you’re telling me we’ve found nothing.”

Specialist Lowe drew her hands behind her back.  “In short, yes.  Sorry, ma’am, I know this isn’t the answer you hoped for.”

Shepard picked up the datapads and sorted through them restlessly.  “We had twenty targets.”

“All of which turned out to be minor asteroids or phantom detections, ma’am.”  Lowe watched her anxiously, with the air of someone diffusing a bomb.

Serviceman Bakari prodded her arm and whispered, “Ma’am, don’t you think we should tell her about-“

Lowe put a discreet elbow into his stomach.

The commander’s hearing, however, was quite keen.  “Tell me about what?”

“It’s nothing.”  Lowe glared at Bakari.  “This is a wild goose chase.”

They arrived in Sparta four days ago.  Everyone was tired of being here.  Shepard was more than aware that she was running short of justifications to dawdle in the system.  Liara hadn’t yet come up with any strong ideas where Benezia might lurk, but the Council was breathing down her neck about the asari anyway.  They had “offered” to personally debrief the archaeologist, which Shepard read correctly as “interrogate”, and she had no plans to permit it.   Anderson was trying to spin the mother of all PR disasters back on the Citadel, as a scarred humanity demanded justice for Eden Prime.  Saren had yet to show himself.

And the _Normandy_ was out here looking for a needle in a haystack.  They should have left yesterday, but Shepard insisted they re-run the calculations.  She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something.  Call it gut instinct, or just that ships didn’t vanish into nowhere.

Aloud, she said, “I like geese.  What did you find?”

Reluctantly, and with a glare at her assistant, Lowe replied, “It’s the second planet, ma’am.  Edolus.  We had to sharpen our resolution in its vicinity- there’s a strange gravitational feedback loop between it and the gas giant, resulting in a lot of dust and debris.”

Bakari’s excitement made him impatient.  “So we were able to pick up a signal normally below our thresholds.  It’s a faint trace of eezo, just north of the equator, like from a drive core.”

Her brow knotted as she sifted through the datapads until she found Edolus. “But there’s no ship there.”

“No, but it’s like a ship _was_ there, ma’am.  Maybe a disabled ship if there’s enough eezo leakage for us to detect, or one that discharged right before landing.”

She glanced between the datapad and the serviceman, growing only more confuse.  “What the hell happened to it?”

He shrugged.  Lowe copied the gesture.  “Your guess is as good as ours.”

Shepard looked across the CIC central island to Pressly’s station, the navigator himself partially obscured by the hovering galaxy map.  “Pressly, give Joker what he needs to bring us in close to that planet.  I want to do a surface scan, see if they crashed.”

Pressly’s frustration was clearer with each passing day.  “Permission to speak freely, ma’am?”

“Denied,” she said pleasantly.  “With ladar interference is this bad, Joker’s going to need your help.”

Her X.O. made a sound of disgust and turned back to his terminal, angrily punching in her orders.

Shepard tossed the datapad back onto the pile- both Lowe and Bakari winced as several slid clear off the shelf- and headed for the bridge.  “Let me know when we’ve got something.”

Joker’s reaction was predictable, until she offered to relent if the flying was simply too tricky.  Then she couldn’t have pulled him off the task with a signed order from Parliament and a krogan tranquilizer.  He was still grumbling about it when they pulled into orbit.  “’Too complicated’, she says.  Like walking through a park.”

“You don’t think we came up on the planet a little fast?” Shepard couldn’t resist.

Joker scoffed.  “Well, I had to make it exciting somehow!”

There was some muffled laughter from the bridge’s other two occupants, his co-pilots, who only recently regained blood flow to their faces as they watched Joker take the _Normandy_ right up to the hairy edge of orbital insertion.  Shepard was no helmsman, but she could read the trajectory data _Normandy’s_ VI hashed together in a plot, and for a moment there it did look like Joker wouldn’t be able to shed the excess speed.  But, like always, he managed.

“Good work,” she said, and retreated to the CIC.

She saw the furtive looks as she located her datapad and resumed work.  _This is the last attempt,_ she promised herself, and them, silently.  There were no further leads.  Presuming the residual eezo was a crash signature gave them a location on Edolus’ surface to start scanning.  This final exercise would take a few hours at most- there was no point in scanning the whole of the planet.

Shepard was on the verge of informing Pressly to make ready to depart the system as soon as the scans completed, when Bakari started yelling and pointing at his terminal.  “Look at that!  Look at that signal!”

Suddenly, it seemed like half the CIC was clustered around him.  Shepard pushed her way to the front and peered over her shoulder.  Her face lit up.  “Is that what I think it is, Serviceman?”

“Yes, ma’am, Alliance distress signal.”  Bakari was grinning ear to ear.  “All this interference must have choked it out.”

There was a cheer from the collective crowd, and some scattered applause.  Shepard raised her voice, though she was smiling too.  “Settle down!  Bakari, can we transmit back?”

“Already trying.  This is an automated broadcast, though.  They might not have a two-way transponder strong enough for communication.”

She glanced across the CIC.  “Someone get me some pictures down there.”

“On their way, ma’am,” someone called.

Shepard spent a few impatient minutes refreshing her datapad.  Other than Bakari and the scanning team, nobody was even pretending to work anymore.  Everyone crowded round to wait with her.

Finally, with almost painful slowness, an image emerged.  It was a top-down view of some kind of vehicle.  After a few seconds, Shepard recognized it as one of the old M-29 tanks, forerunners of the Mako, affectionately known as “grizzlies”.  _Normandy_ was graced with state-of-the-art equipment, but the rest of the Alliance was not always so lucky.  It appeared heavily damaged.

The next course of action was obvious.  “Get these coordinates to our helmsman.  We’re setting down.”

The momentary double-gravity as the _Normandy_ settled on the surface was disconcerting, as always, before the ship VI discreetly turned off the generator.  What looked like easily half the crew had found suits and breather helmets, waiting on the lower deck for the main hatch to open.  Well, let ‘em.  No hostiles, or indeed life of any kind, registered in the area.  It couldn’t hurt to let them stretch their legs and it might make puzzling out this scene easier.

They burst onto the surface of Edolus.  The place was a wasteland, green-tinged sunlight filtering down through angry banks of clouds and airborne dust from the high winds whipping over the rock.  Craters in all range of sizes dotted the ground, and the sky was streaked with meteor trails as clutter caught in the gravity loop between the two planets fell to earth.

Shepard only just convinced the lot of them to stay back while she approached the tank, pistol drawn.  Without any idea what to expect, a crowd was undesirable.

Large scars raked the vehicle roof, the paint scraped away like apple peelings.  Dents pockmarked the surface.  Some of them were half Shepard’s size.  It was almost as if something picked up the multi-ton M29 and tossed it around like a beach ball. 

The turret mount was nearly torn from the roof.  It was doubtful the antenna remained functional, which left the location of the distress signal a mystery.  Shepard crept around to the other side.

A marine hung halfway out of the open hatch under a heavy layer of dust.  Her helmet lay on the ground beneath her, still snagged in her hand, and her blonde hair swayed in the nitrogen wind, obscuring her face.  Peering into the depths of the cabin revealed another marine beside her, slumped in his couch.

Shepard knelt beside her and blew out a long breath, unsurprised but disappointed all the same. 

Her comm crackled in her ear, requesting a status update.  Being out of line of sight behind the vehicle under these circumstances made her crew nervous, and they were impatient already regarding their find.  Shepard ignored it for the time being.  Two marines of nine… where were the others?  Where was the ship?  One tank isolated without explanation on the surface of this dusty, violent world couldn’t be all that was left.

She was still studying the dead woman when a figure came around the corner, faltering a step as the bodies came into view.  Shepard glanced up at him briefly, her arms resting on her thighs as she squatted beside the vehicle, before sliding her eyes back.  “Coming to check up on me?”

“Do you always refuse to respond to comm hails in unknown situations?”  Alenko joined her on the ground, examining the scene.  His voice was staticky inside her helm- the interference on the surface was clearly at least as bad as from space.  “The hatch wasn’t forced.  What happened here?”

“Hypercapnia,” Shepard said grimly. 

“Carbon dioxide poisoning.”

“Yeah.”  She picked up the woman’s helmet and turned it over in her hands.  “Their air recirc’d until it couldn’t anymore- scrubbers get dirty, equipment fatigues, it’s not meant to be run constantly for weeks on end.  As the CO2 levels rose, they became disoriented and panicky.  In that state, when you feel like you can’t breathe, the logical thing to do is open the door and let in fresh air.”

“But it’s not an oxygenated planet,” Alenko protested.

Shepard shook her head.  “They weren’t a condition to remember that.”

He blew out a breath, and looked away from the scene, out across the desert.  “You know a lot about this?”

“We pride ourselves on being prepared for anything.”  There was perhaps a touch more irony in her tone than was truly warranted.  Shepard stood, brushing the dust from her hardsuit, and carefully pushed the woman back into her couch, setting the helmet on her lap.  There was no reason anyone had to find her hanging down like that.  A part of her was relieved; as horrific as this was, it wasn’t a derelict ship.  There were worse things than dying of delusion.

Alenko was still peering at the horizon.  “What’s left of the tank trail leads north.”

“Not sure we’ll find much there.  They were running from something.  If the tank got torn up here, there’d be more than wheel tracks on the ground.”

He folded his arms and raised his eyebrows.  “Worth a look?”

“Worth a look,” she concurred.  She walked back towards the anxious crew with Alenko in tow.  “Alright, we’ve still got seven missing.  I want a general search of the area.  Spread out, stay in pairs, and radio back if you find anything.”

She didn’t want to move the whole ship quite yet.  If one tank made it away, there was no reason not to believe other crew might have escaped and fled in the same direction.  For her own part, Shepard resumed her study of the tank while the others fanned out around her.  The damage was strangely familiar, like she’d seen similar wrecks before, but in this alien setting she couldn’t quite place it.  The connection danced just out of reach.

Private Chase interrupted her thoughts over the comm.  “We’ve got something.”

She immediately turned away from the tank, musing forgotten.  “Report.”

“It’s not much, ma’am.  There are some odd markings in the sand out here.  Kind of broad, and… swooping?”  The private relayed a video feed. 

Edolus was a dust-coated ball of rock.  In theory, the surface should be groomed by wind to a smooth zen-garden finish.  However, in this spot, there were large, rounded contours forming s-shapes against the wind, interspersed with a handful of odd circular depressions that mixed broken rock with the sand.  Her stomach twisted into a knot.

Before she could open her mouth, the comm crackled with the grim voice of Urdnot Wrex. 

“Maw sign,” he growled.

_Dark, hot, and sticky was the only way to describe Akuze.  Even nightfall brought scant relief from the oppressive humidity.  That was why she’d been awake.  It was raining when she at last climbed down from the trees, as dawn crept over the ruin of the camp.  Their tents lay in shredded disarray like fallen butterflies.  Even their heavy transports were tossed like toys, dented and scratched, and all around them curved furrows a solid two meters across were carved into the mud, and in round, broken hollows where they descended back into the dirt._

It was the silence she remembered most.  The utter stillness where there were once fifty people and all their electronics and machines, reduced to the soft hiss of rain.

There was some dry humor in having been kept up for days on end by one nightmare only to be broadsided by another.  It must have shown on her face, because the crew nearest Shepard were giving her quite strange looks indeed.  Or maybe her connection to Akuze, where thresher maws claimed nearly three hundred human lives between the colonists and the marines, was sufficient on its own.

She ignored them and focused on Wrex.  “Can you tell where they came from?”

“North,” he said, confirming her suspicion.

A murmur ran through the crew, laced with a little fear. 

“Are they coming _back_?” one of the engineers hissed, before her friend shushed her.

Bakari pushed his way forward, his expression earnest behind the faceplate of his suit.  “Ma’am, we finally managed to trace the distress signal more precisely.  All this damn interference…”

“Let me guess.  North as well?”

He nodded.  “Yes, ma’am.”

“Alright.”  She surveyed the anxious group.  “Wrex and I are going north to find this beacon in the Mako.”

Joker, who was following from the bridge, interrupted.  “You don’t want to take the _Normandy_ , ma’am?”

“I’m not setting us down in a potential thresher maw nest.”  Shepard was firm on that point.  “Alenko, coordinate the search here.  If any other marines got away, I want to find them.  Nobody is to wander off alone.”

He saluted.  “Yes, ma’am.”

“Wrex.”  Her eyes found the krogan.  Standing head and shoulders above the humans, he was hard to miss.

His voice was eager as he holstered his shotgun.  “Right behind you, Shepard.”

They pulled out of the ship and rumbled away, the cratered terrain crunching under their wheels. 

The cabin interior was never roomy, but it became downright claustrophobic when filled with the bulk of an armored krogan.  Wrex was forced to scrunch down.  His hump banged against the ceiling with every jostle and bump.  Shepard concentrated on avoiding the particularly deep pits until her curiosity got the better of her.  “How’d you know it was thresher maws?”

“Some of the old stories say the maws were born on Tuchanka.”  Wrex grunted.  “That’s the krogan homeworld.  Don’t know if it’s true, but they’re sure there now.  I earned my place by killing one.”

“You’re from Tuchanka?”

“Not many other places a krogan’s likely to come from.  The turians and salarians saw to that.  After all we did for them against the rachni.”  His bitterness was matched only by the latent anger written in the fold of his arms and the set of his snout.

Shepard dimly recalled a news story from while she was on the Citadel commemorating the end of the Rachni Wars.  “They seem to be coming around.  At least the asari are including krogan in the memorials, and there’s that giant statue in the Presidium, right?”

He stared in disbelief.  “Coming around?  We’ve still got the damn genophage on us!”

“The fuck is a genophage?”  She steered them past a jagged boulder.  The sandy ground of their landfall was giving way to rolling hills of banded green-gray rock.

“And here I thought you were smart.”  He sounded like he didn’t know whether to laugh or smack her.  “The genophage is what’s killing my people.  The salarians invented it.  It ensures not more than one in a thousand children is born alive.  Keeps our numbers down, keeps us weak.”  Wrex snorted disgust.  “And what did the turians get for deploying it?  A damned council seat.”

“The genophage ended the krogan rebellions.”  Shepard hadn’t believed there was anything left in galactic history that could shock her.  “Holy hell.  That’s ruthless.”

“That’s just the beginning.  With no future, most of the krogan go out into the galaxy and get themselves killed, as mercenaries or worse.  Tuchanka’s a ruin.   People cling to the worst parts of the old ways like it’ll save them.  Hah.”

“If it’s a medical problem, why don’t the krogan invent a cure?”  Shepard glanced at the krogan.  “I mean, no offense Wrex, but it’s been what, a thousand years?”

“Fourteen hundred,” he said grimly.  “Look at us, Shepard.  We’re not scientists.  We’re warriors!  I’d’ve thought you of all people would understand that.”

“Me of all people.”

“You have the blood, the gut, and the instinct.  It’s written all over you.  You can’t change what you are any more than the krogan.”

Her mouth settled into a hard line.  “That’s awfully deterministic.”

He laughed.  It only served to annoy her.  “I’d love to know why everyone seems so damned obsessed with putting me into a neatly labeled box, like ‘warrior’ or ‘hero’ or ‘survivor’.  It’s like you all think I’m cut out of paper.”

“Alright.”  His predatory grin widened.  “You got a home somewhere?”

“Not the point.  Plenty of soldiers don’t have a permanent address.”

“What about a hobby?”

“I read,” she said defensively.

“Nah, that’s something you do when you get bored.  I’m talking about a passion.”

“Cars, then.  I like cars.”

“Like.  Sounds like enthusiasm.”  Wrex snorted.  “Family?  Kids?”

She gave him a withering look.  “Well you know, I thought about it, and then I realized Hahne-Kedar doesn’t make baby holsters that coordinate with a hardsuit.”

He spread his hands.  “Well, Shepard.  I don’t know how people get the impression you’re exactly what you seem to be.”

Shepard glared.  “Right now, I feel myself becoming passionate about sticking my boot up your ass.”

His roaring laugh filled the cabin until the instruments shook.  Shepard drove onward in chilly silence, wrapped in the remaining shreds of her dignity.  Wrex had enough grace to let her, though the occasionally guffaw continued to escape his lips.

After a while, he straightened in his seat- at least, as much as he could.  “Think we’re coming up on it.”

More of the strange holes and curved markings were evident in the dust ahead.  Shepard read they were the precursors of where the maws emerged from underground, their upper bodies disturbing the ground as they rose to the surface.  Once the bulk of the maw was past, the dirt collapsed into the patterns they saw.  Her experience was somewhat less concrete.  In the dark, the maws were all noise and stench and ghostly currents in the air.

Shepard pulled the Mako onto a stable patch of ground and they disembarked, weapons drawn.  It was hard to imagine against what- anything the size of a thresher maw would laugh at a handheld gun- but the weight was reassuring in her hands.

It wasn’t much of a hike to the site of the attack.  Nor was there any mistaking the devastation.  Shepard realized immediately they’d never know if they found all the remaining soldiers or not; there were too many parts missing.  That, too, was an altogether too familiar sight.

She knelt next to a roughed-up patch of rock and brushed her fingers against the impressions.  The wheels on the M29 were designed to operate in all terrains, all atmospheres or none, through arid deserts and rushing streams.  It left its touch when it peeled away from a location at the speed the two marines she found earlier were gunning.

Wrex surveyed the scene impassively.  His lack of theatrics was refreshing.  The most he said was, “This is a bad way to die.  But why were they here?  There’s nothing but dirt.”

“I don’t know.”  She straightened and took a look around. “Something must have drawn them.  They were looking for any sign of what happened to Banes.”

The ground rumbled.  Shepard paused mid-step, arching a brow at Wrex.

He didn’t look pleased.  “They can sense vibrations.  Footsteps, if the maw’s near the surface.”

Shepard pulled up the Bakari’s ladar trace, fed to her omni-tool.  “Then let’s find the source of the distress signal and get the hell out of here.  It should tell us something, at least.”

“It’s not coming from them?”

She shook her head.  “No, they don’t have any equipment left that would put out an automated distress.”

They spread out.  If her steps fell more carefully as she picked her way across the field of slaughter, Wrex declined to comment.  Indeed, the heavy krogan seemed more cautious himself, his head snapping around with every rumble of the earth- not panicked, but deeply concerned.

After a while, Wrex called out.  “There’s a large area newly cleared.  Looks like a landing zone, but no sign of any ship.”

“I should be standing on top of that signal.”  Shepard frowned, staring at her omni-tool.  She took another step.  Her boot thumped against metal.

“What is it?”

“Not sure.”  She brushed the dust clear.  The surface was dirty white, scoured by the endless wind, and as she continued shifting sand a symbol emerged.  “There’s some kind of insignia.”

Gradually it became clearer.  Wrex came over to investigate, frowning.  Shepard glanced up at him.  “Do you recognize it?”

It was a stylized, elongated hexagon done up in black and bracketed by angular orange flourishes.  Wrex grunted.  “I know every merc insignia from here clear across the Terminus, and I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“Hmm.”  She found the edge of the box.  “Locked.  Mechanically.  How pedestrian.”

Shepard stood up and backed off a few paces, drawing her pistol.

Wrex threw out his arm.  “I don’t think that’s-“

She fired two clean shots into the latch.  The lock went flying.  “You were saying?”

The ground rumbled again, louder, coming up through their boots.  The krogan’s eyes flew wide.  “Are you out of your mind?”

Unconcerned, she knelt once more and prised off the cover.  It came loose entirely in her hands, and she laid it to the side, peering at the contents.  “Definitely a transmitter.”

Shepard took a few pictures.  The tremors were becoming constant now, messing up her shots.  “Damn it.”

Wrex started walking back towards the Mako. 

“Where are you going?” she called.

He looked over his shoulder.  “I didn’t sign up to get eaten by a maw, which is what’s going to happen if we don’t get our asses out of here.”

A part of her wanted to let them come.  Academically, she knew maws were just dumb, dangerous animals, but that didn’t hold any sway in how she felt about them.  She wanted to stand in front of one and spit in its face.

“What are you waiting for?” Wrex yelled. 

Shepard started to make a snarky reply, but the next tremor nearly knocked her from her feet, forcing to swallow the words.  Instead she snagged the cover.  “If you insist.”

They didn’t bother with caution as they ran for the Mako, every pounding footstep punctuated by miniature earthquakes.  The ground began to deform into a massive rising ridge like a tidal wave of earth and rock.  They slammed head on into the side of the tank and scrambled at the hatch.  Wrex disappeared inside and Shepard threw herself after.

It took only a second to fire up the engine, ignoring the scarlet “door ajar” warning painted across the haptic interface.  Her hands flew furiously as she worked the controls to turn it and stomped the accelerator.

The hills worked against them, cutting their speed every time they flew over a ridge and free fell back to ground.  Something tore at their rear.

“It’s right behind us,” Wrex growled.

Shepard swiped the override for the retrorockets.  “I know, damn it!”

The next time they crested a rise, she ignited the rockets in a split second burst that threw them up into the air- but conserved some of their forward momentum.  For an endless moment, they sailed across the sky as carelessly as a bit of litter.

The ground came up fast.  The impact threatened to send them both through the windshield, all six wheels still spinning, and the pair was immediately slammed back in their couches as they bit into the ground.  Wrex’s helmet banged into the bulkhead, causing him to lose his grip on his shotgun.  It rolled around on the floor.

They accelerated smoothly.  The bulk of the thresher maw registering on their ladar receded into a dot.  Shepard’s breath was loud inside her helmet.

Wrex felt along the top of his own, as if checking for cracks.  “You’re fucking crazy.”

His tone was torn between anger and admiration.  She sat back, biting her lip against laughter and practically shaking from the adrenaline pouring through her veins, and concentrated on driving.  “I gave it a face full of rocket fumes, though.”

“They eat metal,” he grunted.  “I don’t think it cares.”  But a reluctant chuckle hounded the edges of his words.

Somehow, the transmitter lid was still settled in her lap.  She spared it a glance.  _I hope it was worth it._

They rolled back into the _Normandy’s_ landing zone at an almost sedate seventy kph, kicking up dust.  Several of the search parties had deployed instruments on the ground, and stopped fussing over their readings long enough to point, drawing attention to their commander’s return.  Shepard pulled up to the forward hatch ramp and left the Mako running as she climbed down.

Lieutenant Alenko was in the middle of consulting several charts of the surface with Specialist Lowe when Shepard sauntered over.  They both paused mid-conversation and straightened.

“At ease,” she said.

Alenko raised his eyebrows.  “Find anything?”

“Just this.”  She tossed him the lid.  “It was covering a transmitter box sending out an Alliance distress call.”

“But this isn’t an Alliance device.”  His confusion lasted only moments, as he turned it over in his gloves, until a grim understanding dawned.  “They were lured here.”

Shepard crossed her arms and watched Wrex climb down from the Mako, ambling towards a ground team.  “Looks that way.  Their ship was long gone, and that thing was planted right on top of a thresher maw nest.  Nobody survived.”

Lowe blanched and glanced away.  Alenko continued studying the lid.  “You think whoever planted this stole their ship?  What’s the point?”

“Maybe just that, maybe something worse.” She shrugged.  “It’s not a high traffic system.  I think they didn’t want anyone finding out whatever it was Banes saw.”

“Should we try to recover the bodies?”

She shook her head.  “Too risky.  The maw’s still there, we’re short the hull space, and the bodies aren’t… in good condition for transport.”

Behind her faceplate, Lowe was white as a sheet.  “I think I’ll just…  ma’am,” she excused herself hurriedly, running back into the ship, hand pressed to helmet like she was going to be sick.

“Bad way to go,” Alenko remarked soberly.

“I don’t know,” Shepard said, almost to herself. 

_A cold ship, drifting with aching slowness through the void of batarian space towards an artificial line of safety, full of silence and hunger._

_Screams and hissing roars in the night, peppered with futile gunfire, filling her ears as she splashed through the mud and rain._

Two fates, one of despair and one of chaos, ice and fire.  Shepard shivered and turned back towards the hatch, looking out over the surface.

Alenko was puzzled.  “Ma’am?”

“I honestly expected to find a derelict ship.”  She gave a little laugh and shook her head, looking down at her feet.  “This… is better than that.”

He still looked confused, so she took a stab at elaboration.  “This was quick, and they had something to fight, right up to the end.  Other than our two escapees, they weren’t left waiting to die.”

“You don’t think it would be better to just drift away quietly?”

Shepard wrapped her arms around herself. “No.”

He regarded her a moment.  “You’re a very odd person.”  He coughed.  “Ma’am.”

“I like to think it’s more that most people haven’t experienced both options.”  She turned toward him with a half-smile. “Or maybe I’m just crazy.”

Alenko processed that, putting the pieces together, just enough to see the shape of what she couldn’t say.  “That must’ve been a hell of a mission, whatever it was.”

The half-smile briefly became a whole smile.  She started up the ramp.  “Call in the teams.  There’s nothing more to do here.  This damn suit’s starting to itch.”


	20. Liara and the Council

“It’s not going to be that bad,” Shepard stated confidently as the elevator descended from the Alliance docking bay.

Liara swallowed, once, twisting her hands.  God knew how, but she’d cobbled together a kind of suit from what was available on the _Normandy_.  Going to see the Council wasn’t an everyday experience for the young archaeologist. 

If they’d found survivors on Edolus, maybe Shepard could have held them off a little longer.  As it was, the Council was about as unhappy with her as Saren and Benezia.  She was fresh out of political maneuverability in her fragile relationship with the three councilors.  It was enough to make her tear her hair out.  And Liara was caught in the middle.

Shepard made another stab at reassurance.  “All they want is to ask you a few questions.”

“But I don’t have any answers for them.”  Liara’s blue eyes were wide.

“Then it ought to be a quick meeting.”  Shepard flashed a smile that failed to reach her.

The elevator doors slid open.  Thirty reporters, twice as many cameras, and half a million flashes surged towards them.  Their questions blurred together into a solid wall of sound that pressed Shepard back a step, blinking in surprise. 

“Commander!  Commander Shepard!”

“Why is there no news on Eden Prime?”

“What made the Council select YOU as a spectre?”

Liara shrank against the far wall of the elevator.  Shepard couldn’t see any other way out; going up just led straight back to the _Normandy._   Shepard reached back and put an arm around Liara’s shoulders.  “Take a deep breath.  We’re going through.”

They plunged into the crowd, Shepard barreling forward like a laser, dragging Liara with her.

Voices like piranha enveloped them.  “Commander, is it true geth are on a _second_ colonial world?”

“It’s been weeks.  How do you answer for the dead of Eden Prime?”

Shepard knew she should ignore them, but that just pissed her off.  She snarled an answer without breaking stride.  “I didn’t cause Eden Prime.”

“Who’s the asari?”

“The Council has you on a short leash.  How do you explain their appropriation of a human military asset?”

The crowd moved with them in a tight knot as they continued doggedly forward, their myriad electronic equipment whirring.  Liara’s head was tucked into her chest with her eyes almost entirely shut against the onslaught.  Shepard tightened her arm.  “If you’re talking about my ship, the _Normandy_ goes where I say, when I say it, period.”

That was a mistake.  The journalists pounced on it, smelling blood.  “So you’re a rogue now?  Don’t you have your own superiors, Commander?”

“Aren’t most of those superiors aliens now?”

“Has being made a spectre gone to your head?”

The elevator up to the Presidium was in sight.  It was a restricted-access area; the horde of reporters would be unable to follow.  Shepard made for it with steady determination.  Liara huddled at her side.

“Is it true that _another_ spectre attacked Eden Prime?”

She punched the call button, and stared at the doors for a moment before turning with a deliberate click of her heels.  “His name is Saren Arterius.  He’s traveling in a geth dreadnought, whether as their leader or as a valued ally is unclear.  The Council tasked me with bringing him in.”

Cameras clicked and for the first time since they arrived there was dead silence in the hall.  One of the journalists, a woman in the sort of long, close-fit dress fashionable on the Citadel, cleared her throat.  “That’s very curious.  The Council has refused to confirm those reports, much less name the perpetrator.”

The elevator dinged.  Shepard stepped aboard, selected the lake level, and deadpanned.  “Oops.”

The doors shut.  The carriage ascended smoothly, picking up speed.

Liara was shaking like a leaf.  Shepard rubbed her face and let out a long breath, letting the wall take her weight.  “I wasn’t expecting that.  I’m sorry.  I would have sent you after and gone alone.”

“Your people are very angry, aren’t they.”

“If an asari colony were attacked, and the Council wrote it off as an isolated incident beyond the scope of their office, wouldn’t yours?”

Liara bit her lip.  “But the geth truly aren’t under the Council’s control.”

“Thus making them a threat to everyone, not just humans.”  Shepard rubbed her forehead, tired of the argument.  “It wasn’t the geth, Liara.  It was a turian who somehow won the geth to his side.  You weren’t there.  You didn’t see it.”

She glanced at Shepard sidelong.  “Not only the reporters are angry.”

“You’re damn right I am.” 

The elevator doors opened, a short distance from the tall spire where the Council conducted its business.  The two women began walking.  Liara seemed to need to fill the silence with a change of subject.  “You don’t think it will be a full session, do you?”

“Well, I’m new to Citadel politics, but I doubt it’ll be that formal.  If nothing else they won’t want to be on public record accusing Benezia of anything.”  Shepard crammed her hands in her pockets, her stomach turning over.  God, but she hated politics.  “My guess is that it’ll be a closed meeting without underlings or grandstanding.”

“Even when we were on good terms, my mother never shared much of her work with me.  She always said that childhood was a time for wonder and exploration, not dreariness and drudgery.”

“You’re old enough to have a doctoral degree, and a career as a researcher.  You scarcely qualify as a child.”

Liara blushed.  “The asari count time differently.   It wasn’t even that we fought… it was that she was so… so patronizing even when we disagreed.  She spent her whole life fixated on the future, and I committed myself to understanding the past.  All she did was laugh a little, and tell me ‘it’s in the nature of daughters to rebel against their mothers’.”  Her voice took on a different tone, as though she were imitating someone else.

Shepard’s own laugh was dry.  “I rather think my mother would have been happier if I’d rebelled in such a cultured and respectable way.”

“It wasn’t rebellion.”  Liara was earnest.  “This is my passion, since I truly was a child, and it was never more than an idle hobby in her eyes.”

Shepard nodded, content to leave it at that, but the words spilled out of Liara’s mouth, one after the other, out of nerves or just the churning of her own thoughts since Therum.  “Everyone always expected so much of me.  When I was born, my mother was already a well-respected matriarch.  Sometimes I felt as though no matter what I did, I could never live up to that.”

An inkling of understanding percolated through her brain.  “And no matter how distant or isolated your dig, you still can’t escape her reputation.”

Liara chuckled, shaking her head.  “It seems not.  I find I am much better suited to ruins than people, I’m afraid.”

They reached the next elevator, taking them up to the Council chamber and submitted to the VI scan.  “Oh, I don’t know.  You seem to do alright.”

A tremulous smile.  “Now if I can just avoid expelling my stomach on their shoes.”

Shepard laughed, genuinely this time.  Liara wrapped her arms about herself and took a deep breath, sinking back into her thoughts as the elevator ascended the last several floors.  She paled as the doors opened on the gardens and stumbled a bit leaving the elevator carriage, her feet tangling about themselves.

Shepard caught her.  “Hey.  It’s going to be alright.  I’ll be there the whole time, I promise.”

The archaeologist took a second breath, and nodded once.  They proceeded into the chamber.  Soon, an asari assistant came to collect them, taking them as predicted into the back halls of the spire, to a small but well-appointed conference room where the three councilors already waited at the far end of a polished table of blonde wood.

Shepard put on her dancing shoes and offered a polite bow and an easy smile.  “My apologies for keeping you waiting.  We were delayed at the docking bay.”

“Commander Shepard.”  Councilor Tevos inclined her head, accepting the excuse with customary asari grace.  She gestured at the table.  “Please, be seated.”

They settled into their chairs, Shepard adjusting the tunic of her dress blues, which were seeing altogether too much use these days, and Liara folding her hands on the table.  The doctor tapped her fingers once before she caught herself.

Tevos continued, “I wanted to thank you, Dr. T’Soni, for agreeing to appear here today.”

Liara’s smile was false and fleeting.  She said nothing.  Shepard watched the turian councilor, Sparatus.  His beady eyes were flashing with a dangerous humor, the same as when Saren appeared before them to protest his innocence.  Sparatus still rankled from her promotion and Saren’s demise.  It wouldn’t surprise her if he was seeking payback.

However, it was the salarian who next spoke.  “We were quite surprised- and curious- to learn that your honored mother, Matriarch Benezia, may be involved in Saren Arterius’ plans, whatever they may be.”

“I haven’t spoken to my mother in many years, despite her best attempts to mend things.”  Liara managed to speak clearly, without trembling.  “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

Sparatus pounced on this opening.  “Saren must have planned this treachery for nearly as long.  You expect us to believe that you had no inkling of her intentions?”

“Councilor Sparatus.”  Tevos lay a hand on his arm.  “Please.  I am certain Dr. T’Soni’s intent is honorable.”

The salarian’s double-lidded eyes twitched.  “Are you?  She is an expert on the very technology Saren and Benezia are seeking for reasons unknown.  The asari value family.  She was found at one of the most extensive Prothean ruins discovered in the past twenty years.”

Shepard cleared her throat.  “As I’m certain you noted in my report, she was found trapped in those same ruins, having been forced to activate their ancient defenses to save herself from the geth.  Does that strike you as evidence of cooperation?”

Sparatus hissed.  “Yet another story we are conveniently unable to verify thanks to one of your senseless acts of destruction.”

Shepard half-rose from her chair.  “We did what was necessary to free Liara before the geth could rally.  We nearly died down there.”

“Councilor, Commander, please.”  Tevos raised her hand.  “I am certain that the Commander acted as she saw best.”

“On that, we can agree.”  Sparatus settled back, not disguising his interpretation of what Shepard thought best.

Tevos turned back towards Liara.  “Can you tell us what brought you to Therum?”

“My grant request to study the ruins was approved about… two months ago.  I made the necessary arrangements and traveled to Therum to undertake an evaluation of the site.”

“You came alone?”

“I prefer to work alone.”  Liara shifted in her seat, primly.  “Graduate students merely get in the way.”

“One sympathizes.”  Tevos flipped through her datapad.  “What drew you to the Therum dig?”

“It is- was- thought to be one of the youngest Prothean ruins, constructed not long before they vanished from the galaxy.”  She flattened her palms on her knees. “Believe me, Councilors, nobody regrets its loss more than I.  Commander Shepard’s actions were necessary.”

Councilor Valern folded his hands on the table.  “The demise of the Prothean Empire is your area of expertise, is it not?”

Liara nodded.  Valern continued, his interest keen.  “And what do you make of Commander Shepard’s theory?  These so-called reapers?”

The asari scientist glanced at the commander.  Shepard gave her the faintest of nods, telling her to go on.  She straightened and addressed the salarian, drawing a breath.  “I have seen no direct evidence of a super-race of sentient machines, if that is what you are asking.  But they fit into the pattern I have observed- one Prothean site after another ravaged, and then wiped clean of all evidence afterwards.  Somebody was responsible, somebody powerful, and just as absent as the Protheans themselves.”

“Clearly, she’s been coached.”  Sparatus’ contempt came immediately.  “Shepard keeps her isolated for nearly two weeks, on the pretext of chasing down a handful of lost Alliance soldiers having no bearing on this mission, and now she comes before us and trots out this story?”

Shepard stood and laid her hands flat on the table, a hot comeback rising in her throat, but before she could get a word out, Liara answered with chill dignity, deeply affronted.  “I think you’ll find I have been stating exactly that in my published research for at least thirty years.  Unless you are suggesting Commander Shepard has mastered the art of time travel…”

Shepard raised an eyebrow.  Apparently, challenging Liara’s sense of academic honesty was enough to overcome her self-effacement.  “Thirty years?  Just how old are you?”

“One hundred six,” she snapped, still riled.

Shepard blinked.  “Damn.”

“If we could all calm ourselves,” Tevos interjected with fraying patience.  

“Doctor,” Valern pressed, “Do you have any knowledge of this Conduit your mother seeks?”

“I’ve not heard of anything like it.”

It was Sparatus’ turn to stand.  “You expect us to believe that while Saren Arterius and Matriarch Benezia scour the Traverse for a major Prothean artifact, you, one of the leading experts on that race, attest to _no knowledge whatsoever_ of it?”

Shepard jabbed a finger in his direction.  “We have no idea whether the Conduit even is Prothean.  Your people have had the mass relays and all the rest of the wealth of Prothean tech for _how_ many centuries and you’ve never heard of it either.  Aside from your traitors, anyway.”

“I don’t know what agenda you’re playing, Commander, but the Relay 314 Incident is over.  Geth attacked your colony.  Your continued efforts to vilify-“

“I was three years old!” Shepard bellowed.  “I don’t give a great goddamn what did or didn’t happen-“

Tevos stood as well.  “If you please-“

Sparatus laughed.  “Then you are entirely unlike the rest of your Alliance, who can’t go two words in public without making mention of it.”

She banged her fist on the table hard enough to rattle the pitcher of water.  “I care that nobody here would be anything but relieved if Saren wiped out half our colonies, never mind one.”

Tevos didn’t raise her voice, but her tone was so hard and so cold that it brought instant silence to the room.  “We will have order in this chamber.”

Liara was a shade of pale green, shrinking in her chair.  Shepard took a shaky breath.  “I apologize for my outburst.  It was inappropriate.”

Sparatus began a cutting remark, but Tevos fixed him with the kind of glare that left lesser men babbling on their knees.  He swallowed and resumed his seat, stiffly.  “I also apologize.”

Tevos folded her hands and turned a hard stare on Shepard.  “Commander, incidents such as these are why we have spectres like you.  Saren’s was an act of terrorism.  As history has proven, bringing the weight of government to bear on isolated rogue elements is not only ineffective but counter-productive.  If you wish answers for the loss of Eden Prime, you will have to find them yourself.”

She swallowed as well.  “Understood.”

“Very well.”  They all settled back into their chairs.  Tevos allowed a delicate pause for everyone to collect themselves before continuing, smoothly.  “Speaking of which, we are all curious as to what you intend to do next.”

That question was more in her element.  She rolled her shoulder.  “Liara is attempting to guess at where her mother might have gone.  That will hopefully yield a number of systems or worlds to investigate.”

“So you’ve spent more than a month on this exercise and you’ve got nothing to show for it.”

“The Traverse is a big place, ma’am.  We’re pursuing a number of leads.”  Shepard kept her expression carefully neutral, keeping their lack of progress hidden.  She had no better idea of where to head next than of how to fly.

From the look Tevos gave her in return the effort was meaningless.  “I see.  So your hopes rest with this young woman.”

Tevos wasn’t willing to quite call Liara a danger or a traitor while she was sitting right there, but her meaning was clear.  Shepard’s response was measured.  “I know my work, ma’am.  I know where to place my trust.”

“Do you?”  It was the most cynical statement Shepard ever heard.  “I believe, then, we are finished for now.”  She inclined her head.  “Our thanks for your attention, Commander.”

“I always do my duty.”  Shepard only just managed to keep the sentence from absolutely dripping with sarcasm.  They rose again as the Councilors took their leave of the Chamber.

Into the quiet that followed, Shepard said, absently, “I was wrong.  That was as bad as I thought.”

“Well,” Liara said, standing and straightening her clothes.  “At least we’re leaving with our heads.”

Shepard stared at her and started to laugh.  Soon they were both dissolved in helpless giggles, when there came a sharp rap on the door.  The asari assistant re-entered, to show them out, and pursed her lips with disapproval.  “If you’ll follow me.”

They were deposited without ceremony at the lake level of the Presidium.  The keeper they spent some time discussing on their last visit was gone, its maintenance or whatever it was working at complete.  Shepard began searching for a taxi stand.  They passed the odd monument, near one of the bridges across the lake, the one that looked like a mass relay. 

Liara spared it a glance.  “The relays were the Prothean’s greatest achievement.  Can you imagine what it must have been like when they first developed the technology?  To live through being bound to only a handful of worlds, and suddenly have the galaxy opened to you?”

“I don’t have to imagine.”  Shepard crossed her arms and looked up the length of the mock relay.  “That was only five years before I was born, for humans.  I’ve lived it.”

“It must have been painstaking.  Dragging each relay across the cold dark of space, even at FTL speeds.  It’s twenty years across the galaxy without accounting for fuel or resupply.”  Liara gazed up at it with something like wonder.  “It’s no wonder they built a monument to the effort.”

Shepard shrugged, not unmoved, but unable to dwell on it.  “Mostly, it just makes my head buzz.  It’s irritating.”

“Does it?”  Liara seemed surprised.  “It rather reminds me of Thessia.  I can’t think of why.  Something about the air here, I think.”

“I guess it’s good I’ve never been to Thessia then,” Shepard said shortly.  “Come on.  Let’s head back.  The sooner we’re off this station the happier I’ll be.”

They reached the taxi stand and were awaiting pickup when a short man approached the pair, human, his blonde hair and goatee as ill-cut as his old blue suit was ill-fit.  His blue eyes were wide with excitement.  “C-Commander Shepard?”

“What?” she said crossly.

“Oh my god, it really is you.”  He beamed, a smile threatening to split his head in two.  “I’ve read every article, you know.  They can’t stop writing about you.  You’re the kind of person that makes humanity great!”

Her brow furrowed.  “I’m sorry, do we know each other?”

“I’m Conrad.  Conrad Verner.”  He seized her hand unprovoked with both his own, shaking it violently.  “It’s such an honor to meet you.  Here I was, on the Citadel for some stupid conference, I never imagined I’d run into you!”

Shepard reclaimed her hand and discreetly wiped his slimy sweat off on her skirt.  Liara was studying the man with the same air as an entomologist encountering a new breed of insect.  The commander craned her neck, hoping for a glimpse of their taxi.  “I guess it’s your lucky day.”

“Aw, my wife is never going to believe it.”  He scrambled about his person, checking all his pockets until he fished out a miniature datapad.  “Do you… do you think I could get your autograph?  I’m a huge fan, always have been, even visited the memorial on Akuze.”

“Uhh…”  Shepard glanced around, but no salvation was imminent.  “I… sure, whatever.”

She took the pad and dashed off her name.  _Lt. Cdr. Nathaly Shepard, SSV Normandy_.  To her embarrassment, he hugged it to his chest and bounced on his feet.  “Thank you!  I’ll never forget this!”

“Oh, I hope that’s not the case.”  She forced a smile.  “I think that’s our cab now.”

She escaped the last of his praises by ducking into the car.  Liara followed.  The door closed smoothly over them and soon the taxi whisked them high into the false Presidium sky.  Liara’s amusement was plain.  “Does that happen to you often?”

Shepard covered her face with her hand.  “I hate my life.”

She expected a wisecrack at her expense, but Liara merely said, “I don’t like people either, much of the time.  Ruins are easier to understand.”

The taxi deposited them at the C-Sec academy.  Shepard walked Liara to the elevator.  “I think it’s best if you head back to the _Normandy_.  No one will bother you there, after this morning’s news breaks.  I’ve got that interview with the Mabry woman, and then we’ll go.  Do me a favor and make certain Pressly’s ready.”

Liara nodded.  “I’ve had enough of reporters for one day.”

The elevator shut behind her.  Shepard rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on, and was about to return to the cab when she heard a familiar voice behind her.  “Shepard!  I did it!”

She glanced over her shoulder, brow furrowed.  “Garrus?  Detective Vakarian?”

“I quit!”  Turian smiles were hard to read, but Garrus was giddy.  “I’ve been thinking about everything.”

She gave herself a shake, thoroughly confused.  “What?”

“You’re absolutely right.  We’ve got to protect the people of this galaxy.  It’s the obligation of every able citizen.”  He paced a few steps, gesturing to emphasize his words.  “Saren’s out there.  Nobody here is prepared to let me find him, or fight him.  They’re too caught up in Citadel politics to care.”

“So you… you quit your job?”  Shepard was flabbergasted.

“I’m not about to let the Executor stop me from doing my job,” he corrected.  “The only way to do that was to resign my commission.  It’s all so very clear now.”

Shepard was still three steps behind.  “And you think I told you to do this?”

“You told me to be part of the solution.  That was what you meant, right, when we spoke after calling the dogs off Dr. Michel?”  Garrus was alight, as though a tremendous weight had lifted from his shoulders.  “And you were right.  We need to work together.”

“Work together?”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Are you.”  Shepard was considerably less amused by that declaration.  She crossed her arms. 

“I know more about Saren than anyone alive, or at least anyone who’s willing to talk to you.  He’s not going to stop at a single colony.”

“Damn it, don’t you think I know that.”  She was more tired than angry.  “What exactly are you proposing?”

“Someone needs to keep him in check.”

“So you’re inviting yourself aboard my ship.”

It was the first thing she said that seemed to penetrate his euphoria.  His face twisted in confusion.  “Why wouldn’t you want me?”

Shepard was at a loss.  “I never expected you to quit your job!”

“It’s been a long time coming.”  He looked around the room, which was busy with the traffic of the academy, clicking his mandibles.  “This place never suited me.  Not really.”

“And you think a ship will suit you better.”  If anything, an Alliance ship was more disciplined environment than Citadel Security.

Garrus held himself a little straighter.  “I did my service in the navy of the Hierarchy, Commander.  I know how ship life goes.  I want Saren.  I want justice, for the human colony and the rest of it.  I can help you.”

Shepard buried her face in her hands and tried to think past the pounding in her head.  “Garrus, this isn’t a game.”  
  
“Believe me, I know.”  His tone matched hers- tired, exhausted of fighting this contest on uneven ground.

He wasn’t wrong.  The information he had on Saren could be invaluable.  Shepard didn’t want to face another Council meeting like the one she just left, with no leads worth mentioning and little progress to report.  That was a fast ticket to proving humans had nothing to offer the spectres or galactic security, not to mention it simply would not help Saren’s past or future victims in any way. 

At the same time, she wasn’t happy about being strong-armed into accepting a new member of her crew.  Her mouth thinned into a line.  “Fine.  Get your things.  But you damn well remember how to follow an order better than what I’ve seen here, or so help me Garrus-“

His answering grin was more unsettling than she liked.  “I have more faith in you than in C-Sec.”

“Not the answer I was looking for.”

“We’re after the same thing.  I won’t be a problem.”  He held out his hand.

She shook it, with some reluctance.  “I’ll hold you to your word.  We’re in Docking Bay E-15.” 

“Roger that.”  He tossed her a salute that was only faintly mocking and took his leave.

/\/\/\/\/\

The interview took several hours.  Shepard hadn’t expected brevity, but Mabry was very thorough.  Hours of sliding from one mask to another, thinking in sound bites, alternating between canned professionalism and ad-libbed personality left her spent.  It wasn’t disingenuous- people could spot fake with reliable accuracy- but the art of showing off the parts of herself people expected to see.

So when asked about becoming a spectre, she called it an honor instead of a political maneuver.  She showed them the picture her father emailed of the new “SPECTRE01” license plate he bought for her car and omitted the vase of flowers and impersonal card from her mother, because proud and embarrassing fathers were humanizing whereas cold and distant mothers invited psychoanalysis.  Humility required a delicate touch; too cocky and she’d be labeled reckless, but at the same time, acting like she’d won the lottery instead of earned a promotion hardly inspired confidence.

Loyalty was the same way.  In some regards, that was why she trotted out the occasional Alliance party line.  That was Shepard the Good Soldier, who remembered she was human.  But it needed to be tempered with Shepard the Diplomat as well, the woman who could make statements like “we are a galaxy made up of many peoples with one Council to see to our diverse needs” without cringing.  Shepard the Healer who empathized with the colonists of Eden Prime mixed with Shepard the Warrior who promised them justice. 

That was the problem with being the only one of anything- you were expected to be everything, to all people, at all times.  Never mind that _Nathaly_ only wanted to do her job, do it well, protect her crew, and go home in as few pieces as possible.  A little of that was acceptable- a disarming smile and an “I’m just a soldier, ma’am” could evaporate a tricky question- but used too often, it sounded like incompetence. 

The truth was that she felt the same way as the rest of humanity in the aftermath of Eden Prime.  Not afraid, perhaps, or helpless, but shocked, outraged, humiliated, and uncertain all fit.  Saren had trespassed freely on Alliance soil and nothing she did was going to put the colony back together.  Nothing would soon restore a sense of faith in their allies.   The geth’s motives remained mysterious, and of the reapers they knew even less.  Shepard held her silence on that.  There was no reason to disperse that information, or potentially tip off their shadow enemy, until they had more facts than intuition to offer.

So intent was her internal grousing that she almost missed Pressly’s frown as she came aboard.  It was unusual for him to greet her at the airlock.  Normally, he kept to the CIC.  She raised an eyebrow.  “What’s wrong?”

He cleared his throat.  “Commander, our departure is being held by Alliance flight control.”

“Why?”  Their mission had top priority.  Previously, even during periods of peak operation, they’d enjoyed being bumped to the head of the line.  Then she realized that was the wrong question.  “On whose orders?”

They headed towards the CIC.  “Rear Admiral Mikhailovich.”

Shepard stopped walking, turning towards her navigator.  “Fifth Fleet, commander 63rd Scout Flotilla?  That Mikhailovich?”

Pressly nodded.  Shepard used an expletive that got the attention of half the deck.  “Did he grace us with a reason?”

He pursed his lips.  “His orders are to wait in dock until morning, so that he can complete an inspection of the ship and its crew for a report to the Joint Military Council.  Do you want me to contact Captain Anderson, ma’am?”

“It won’t do any good.  Mikhailovich is his C.O.”  Shepard rubbed her forehead.  “And I can guess what this is all about.  He’s pissed about losing the _Normandy_ to the spectres and plans to raise hell over it.”

“If that’s so, he’s not respecting his own superiors, either.  That was Admiral Hackett’s decision.” 

Hackett was the commander of the Fifth Fleet and one of the highest ranking officers within the Systems Alliance Navy.  Outfitting her spectre operation fell to him, though thus far, his had been a silent oversight.  Shepard kept waiting for the real bill to arrive.

She tapped her fingers on the railing surrounding the galaxy map, running down options.

Pressly’s suggestion was not at all diplomatic.  “Ma’am, we could override the hold, on your spectre authority.  Docking is a Citadel matter even if they permit the Alliance to see to their own ships.”

Shepard eyed him, surprised.  Maybe there was an X.O. in there after all.  Aloud, she cleared her throat.  “It’s not a bad idea, but it only delays the problem.  Thumbing our nose will only infuriate him, and I can’t promise we’ll be able to afford it the next time.”

“Yes, ma’am.  So we wait for morning?”

“We wait,” she confirmed.  “But we’ve got all night.  I want every inch of this ship looking fresh from dry dock and every soldier aboard at their best.  Mikhailovich isn’t going to find any low-hanging fruit when he starts looking around for something to criticize.”


	21. Rear Admiral Mikhailovich

Rear Admiral Mikhailovich presented himself at their hatch promptly at 0600 hours.  He was a short, brooding man, with a heavy brow and thick dark hair under his admiral’s cap.

Shepard was waiting to greet him in a freshly-pressed dress uniform, alongside Pressly.  It was getting so she almost needed two sets of dress blues just to avoid being disheveled.  They both saluted smartly as Mikhailovich came aboard. 

He returned the salutes and sized her up.  “Lieutenant Commander.”

“Sir.”  She held herself at attention.  “The _Normandy_ is at your service.  May I introduce my executive officer, Navigator Charles Pressly.”

Mikhailovich ignored the courtesies.  He glanced around the bridge, his mouth a narrow line gashed into his face.  “This overdesigned piece of tin was supposed to be assigned to my fleet, you know, before you Citadel types got involved.”

“I’m aware, sir.”  Shepard was careful to keep her tone pleasant.  “I understand the loss must have been disappointing.”

“Disappointing?”  He scoffed.  “This ship, Commander, is a taxpayer boondoggle and a sign of how open to influence the appropriations committee has become.”

“I don’t follow, sir.”

He gestured around them, indicating the ship.  “A frigate that comes with the price tag of a heavy cruiser!  And for what?  Some unproven stealth system and a show of inter-species cooperation that let the turians sink their talons into our classified development projects?”

She could feel Joker bristling in the couch behind her.  Thankfully, for once, he realized when to hold his tongue.  “Admiral, I assure you the stealth system is far from unproven.  We’ve already used it successfully in several engagements.”

“Battle?” he inquired, bushy eyebrows bunched.

She shook her head, shortly.  He gave her a grim little smile stuffed with condescension.  “Well, let’s have a look at her then.  See what our folly has bought us.”

He turned aft.  Pressly and Shepard exchanged a look.  She shrugged at him, and followed the admiral into the CIC. 

Mikhailovich stopped short at the narrow apex of the map island that dominated the deck.  “What is this?”

“Our… it’s our combat information center, sir,” Shepard replied after a moment, much confused.  There wasn’t a chance he didn’t recognize it.

“I’m not a fool,” he said sharply.  “I meant this design.  What idiot decided to put the commanding officer half the length of the ship away from the bridge?”

She put her hands behind her back and bit her thumbnail into the flesh of her palm to keep her sarcasm at bay.  “It’s common to turian ships, sir.  It has-“

“Turians?”  He spat.  “Placing our faith in the ships that lost the war?”

Shepard was steadily losing patience.  His saliva was congealing on her clean deck, and her CIC personnel were staring fixedly at their terminals.  “As I was saying, Admiral, it has its advantages.  The deck is designed so that all information flows to this spot.”

She stood on the platform before the galaxy map to demonstrate.  “From here, the commanding officer has everything she needs to know at her fingertips, and can issue orders promptly.”

He crossed his arms.  “Too bad nobody will be able to hear them.  You may have a ship now, Commander, but you came up through the marines.  You’re biased towards ground maneuvers.  How much _real_ space combat have you seen?”

“Enough to know that no commanding officer worth her jacket would allow chatter in the CIC during a battle,” she snapped, her temper getting the better of her at last.  “And if it came to that, I can bellow with the best of them.”

He took a step towards her.  That was a mistake; she towered over the burly man.  “Are you _gainsaying_ me, Commander?”

“No sir,” she said evenly.  “Just telling you how it is on my ship.”

He stared her down for another long moment, before harrumphing and turning towards the stairs.  “I suppose we’d better see the rest of it.”

Tali was coming off the elevator as they reached the crew deck.  “Shepard, Engineer Adams would like to know if the admiral plans to- oh.”

The mask hid her face, but Shepard was getting better at reading her body language.  The way she drew in on herself just then was definitely a blush. 

“Aliens?!” Mikhailovich barked. 

“This is Tali’Zorah nar Rayya, a representative of the quarian people.”  Shepard wasn’t going to rise to the bait.  Things were about to take an especially ugly turn.  “She is a guest aboard this ship.”

“Good gods, girl, I thought spectres were supposed to have keen judgment!”

“I fail to see the problem,” she lied.  “Tali’s information led us to Saren in the first place, and she continues to be invaluable to this mission.”

That set him back a step.  “That’s hardly the point.”

Shepard managed not to raise her voice.  “With all due respect, sir, I don’t know what you’ve heard.  But I’m not some fresh-faced _girl_ straight out of Macapa.  This isn’t a ship-to-ship battle that can be determined by firepower and trigonometry.  I’m making the best decisions I can with the resources I have to work with, which is exactly what the Alliance we both serve trained me to do.”

He scowled at her.  She returned it with a calm, almost bored stare, bearing neither insolence nor submission.  “Shall we continue, sir?  I’m certain the battery will interest you.”

The admiral spared Tali a final, loathing glance, but settled his hackles.  “Yes, let’s proceed to the battery.”

They finally stumbled on a portion of the _Normandy_ with which Admiral Mikhailovich took no issue.  On the contrary, he praised their main cannon, albeit alongside a left-handed reference to the awkward balance of the ship created by the oversized drive core.  Like everything else in the design, the cannon was top of the line, cutting edge from Alliance R&D.  The hope was that the stealth system would allow the _Normandy_ to avoid most combat, but if the worst happened she would not be found defenseless.

Although, having seen Joker’s risky approach to flying, Shepard wasn’t eager to watch him cowboy his way through a firefight.  She wisely chose not to voice this concern to the admiral.

Less fortunately, he caught sight of Liara when they passed through the med bay.  “Exactly how many aliens are aboard, Commander?”

“Four, sir.  The two you haven’t met are a krogan and a turian, respectively.”

“A turian!”

“The lead detective into Saren’s treason,” she explained smoothly.  “He’s… on sabbatical from Citadel Security to assist the Alliance in this matter.”

He took off his hat with a long sigh, running his hand over his hair.  She almost felt bad for him- he looked so lost.  Mikhailovich was old guard, her parents’ generation, from the Alliance before they knew anything of the Citadel or aliens.  The new era efforts the _Normandy_ represented were out of his element.

Surprisingly, it was Pressly who intervened, silent for most of the tour except when asked a direct question.  “Admiral, I can vouch that the aliens aboard ship appear to be solely interested in doing their jobs to support the mission.  I’ve not seen nor heard of any suspicious behavior.”

That, coming from someone of a more similar mind and age, seemed to take the fight out of him.  Mikhailovich glanced at Shepard.  “I take it you concur, Commander?”

“We have enough enemies, Admiral,” she said as kindly as she could.  “Batarians, terrorists both within and without our borders, _real_ traitors, and now geth.  It’s a big galaxy to be without friends.”

“Assuming they’re worthy of our friendship.  That has yet to be proven.”  He was gruff, but conceded the argument.  “However, I am certain that you will take every precaution.”

They continued to the engineering deck.  Shepard kept all crew not on sleep rotation during the admiral’s visit at their posts, regardless of the roster.  It wasn’t a good time for anyone to appear idle.  But that left the _Normandy’s_ marine detail in a sticky spot.  Their duty didn’t take place aboard ship, and truthfully there wasn’t much for them to do when they weren’t being briefed or deployed, aside from some gear maintenance and the chores shared amongst the whole crew.

Alenko evidently decided to solve that problem by making them run laps around the bay.  Williams, having finished her punishment detail at last, was at the head.  It occurred to Shepard belatedly that she was the only NCO in their marine detachment, making her second in command for that unit.  It was not an entirely comfortable realization.

Alenko was keeping one eye on the elevator while he monitored the exercise.  As soon as they stepped off, he called out, “A-ten-HUT!”

Instantly, the group stopped and came to attention facing the admiral and their commander.  Shepard made the necessary introductions while Mikhailovich looked over the marines with a critical eye.  She definitely got a sense that he hated ground engagements; hated, in fact, any maneuver that lacked the silent, stately grace of ships doing battle against each other out in open space.  Shepard found it difficult to sympathize.  Before the _Normandy_ , she was officially stationed at Arcturus and rarely assigned to any particular ship for more than a few weeks, as she traveled wherever spec ops officers were needed.  That rarely included watching ships exchange artillery rounds.

Alenko and the rest of the marines, however, were used to it.  A tour of duty ranging from six to eighteen months either aboard a ship or assigned to a colony was a much more typical marine experience.  Aside from carriers, all ships in the Alliance carried at least a token squad of marines.  The admiral might not like it, but a good deal of the conflict in the galaxy still took place where the people were- on the ground, in space stations, aboard ships using settlements as shields.  That required something slightly more surgical than a mass accelerator cannon.  It was also why anyone truly interested in seeing combat enlisted with the marine branch of the navy. 

Shepard was strangely grateful that Mikhailovich understood basic respect and found something positive to say to the marine detail, praising their discipline and drive.  Edolus had been hard on a number of them.  It was too easy to imagine themselves in the shoes of Kahoku’s men.  And then there was Alenko himself- he was an easy-going man, but she doubted very much he would have suffered unwarranted or politicized criticism of his people in silence.  Injustice seemed to be one of the few things that really got under his skin.

She was thankful also that Garrus kept out of sight.  With most of the crew distrustful of a turian, he seemed most at home in the largely abandoned equipment bay.  Reason said a former officer of the Hierarchy navy might hold some strong opinions about the quality of the _Normandy’s_ hybrid design, and it was just as well that the details of Garrus’ military past remained unenumerated for the admiral.

The three of them, Shepard, Mikhailovich, and Pressly, continued on to the drive core room, the last stop on their tour.  Tali elected to linger on the crew deck.  Adams, however, was in the thick of things alongside his engineers.  They stopped and saluted as the small party came into the drive core room.

“At ease,” Mikhailovich said, folding his arms as he looked up at the bulk of the Tantalus drive, a uniquely engineered system at the heart of the _Normandy’s_ FTL and stealth systems.  Heat sinks were one thing.  What made the _Normandy_ truly novel was the manner in which it moved while cloaked.  The Tantalus core generated mass concentrations along the ship’s vector of motion, into which the _Normandy_ “fell”, obeying the laws of gravity.  Then the drive released the pocket of dark energy and created another ahead of the ship.  Thus the frigate was able to move forward in absolute secrecy, without a trace of conventional sublight drive flare to betray them. 

The _Normandy_ had those systems, of course; every ship did for intrasystem propulsion, and the Tantalus could not operate in this mode more than a few hours.  It remained an impressive feat.

However, all Mikhailovich had to offer were more complaints.  “Did you know that you could make twelve thousand fighters from this same amount of element zero?”

Shepard gave the drive a glance.  It was true that for a ship of this size, the Tantalus was slightly more than twice as large as was customary.  “I’d love to see any one of those fighters slip past an advanced geth dreadnought without being spotted, sir, the way _Normandy_ did on Eden Prime.”

“Your stealth system is a 120 billion credit gimmick.”  He snorted and crossed his arms, turning his back on the drive.  Adams took the criticism well; Shepard imagined he was no stranger to flag officers tromping around his deck without a clue what they were talking about.  She herself was rapidly developing an appreciation for Anderson’s patience in driving this ship to completion in spite of those voicing Mikhailovich’s doubts.

However, she did not share it.

Shepard drew her hands behind her back and kept her attention on the core.  “Men of limited vision have always denounced new technology as wasteful, sir.”

Mikhailovich spared her a glance laced with enough venom to stun a varren.  “I’m not happy, Commander.”

“That seems to be a fairly common problem,” she shot back before she could stop herself.

His mouth fixed itself into an ugly grimace.  “And allowing your mouth to run away with you seems to be your problem.  See to it, or it’s going to get you in all kinds of trouble.”

Mikhailovich’s eyes dared her to respond.  She swallowed the unpalatable anger, a taste of metal on her tongue, and allowed the reprimand to pass unchallenged.  On his face, disappoint mixed with grudging respect.

Adams put his hand over his mouth and turned towards a terminal, pretending to fuss over a sensor reading.  If she didn’t know better she’d swear he was trying not to laugh.

Shepard squared her shoulders and tried again, more diplomatically.  “Stealth capability redefined aerial combat in the twentieth century.  Those who possessed the technology to slip past enemy defenses without taking losses were able to dominate the world.  Governments poured far greater sums into gaining even small improvements in their observables, when you account for inflation, than what we’ve spent developing the _Normandy_.  Because back then, that was the difference between life and death.”

Adams wasn’t laughing anymore.  He gave her a startled look, surprised by her understanding.  “The Commander’s right, sir.  The world never was the same, not until spaceflight and mass effect fields replaced airplanes and chemical propulsion.  Nobody’s ever made stealth work for spacecraft.  There’s no reason to believe it won’t have the same devastating effect on strategy- and with the _Normandy_ , the Alliance is on the bleeding edge.”

The admiral rubbed his chin.  “It’s a moot point.  Because this ship was developed under Council oversight, any advantage the stealth system might have provided is lost.”

Adams was quick to counter the point.  “Sir, I was involved in the later stages of design.  We didn’t give away the farm.”

“Involving the Council proved that humans are able to think outside the box,” Shepard argued.  “Just like with our fighter carriers.  It shows the Council that we have something to offer, and improves our chances of being more fairly represented in the galaxy.”

The carriers were a sensitive subject.  The number of dreadnoughts any civilization could legally hold was capped by galactic treaty, and the Alliance response to that discovery had been to build more carriers- a ship concept originally unique to humanity, though others were quick to follow.  But for Mikhailovich, Shepard was certain, they were a symbol of pride, not politics.  Maybe the only thing on which they agreed.

He turned back towards the drive core, deep in thought.  “Do you think the technology can be made practical?”

“Yes.”  Adam’s answer came immediately.  “Once you’ve solved the basic problems, everything just falls into place.  Creating a second _Normandy_ wouldn’t be nearly as costly.  Applying aspects of the design to other ships- well, you’d have to talk to appropriations, but I can imagine how you’d do it.”

The admiral lapsed into silence for several minutes.  Shepard asked, crisply, “Was there anything further you wanted to investigate, sir?”

“No.”  He turned back towards her, relaxing slightly for the first time since he came aboard.  “I’m still not convinced your _Normandy_ wasn’t an egregious waste of funding, but I am convinced that you believe otherwise- and that you’ll make full use of her capabilities.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I need to file my report with the Joint Military Council.  It will not be as… negative as I planned.”  He nodded to her.  “Good hunting, Commander Shepard.”

She saluted.  “Pressly can show you out, sir.”

As the two men departed, she caught Adams watching her.  “What?”

“Nothing, ma’am.”  He straightened his expression.  “It’s just that it’s like watching Ash have a go at you, but in reverse.”

She glared at him crossly.  “It’s not the same situation at all.”

“Of course not, ma’am,” he replied without missing a beat.  “You have much more experience at it.”

Shepard rolled her eyes.  “That’ll do, Adams.”

The hatch opened, admitting Alenko with Tali trailing behind him.  “We saw the admiral leaving.  How’d things wind up?”

She sighed.  “Well, we get to keep the ship.”

“That bad, huh?”

Tali glanced back towards the elevator.  “He didn’t seem to like us very much.”

Shepard looked down at the banister separating the work area from the drive core, and rapped her knuckles against it, once, sick of arguing, sick of being worn out before the day was even half over.  “I want a win.  A big, old-fashioned, knock-their-socks off home run to show we do more than screw around out here.”

Her eyes scanned the lot of them.  “Any ideas?”

Engineer Adams glanced away.  Alenko licked his lips and studied his boots.  Tali fiddled with her suit’s air intake tube. 

Shepard sighed again.  “That’s what I thought.”

/\/\/\/\/\

They departed the Citadel, and almost immediately ran into another snag.  As Pressly explained it, “There was a collision in the approach corridor to the mass relay.  Evidently one of the pilots got confused about the departure order.”

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, ma’am.  C-Sec’s got a couple of tugboats on the way to clear out the wreckage, but it’s going to be a few hours.”

“Aren’t collisions between spacecraft exceedingly rare?”

Pressly shrugged.  “Space is big, but the approach corridor is not.  And ships have to accelerate into alignment with the relay.”

She ran a hand over her hair, smoothing back a few errant strands, and blew out a breath.  “Alright.  I guess there’s no help for it.  Let me know when we’re ready.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

Shepard took to the stairs and headed down to the lounge, datapad in hand, planning to catch up on email.  Apparently she wasn’t alone in that idea.  Several of the crew were scattered around the area, some typing, some reading or watching vids.  She plopped into a seat near Lieutenant Alenko, who was prodding his own datapad with a concerned frown, his eyebrows knit together.

“Something wrong?” she asked, pressing the icon to bring up her email.

He jumped.  “No, ma’am.  Just reviewing some data.”

She could see several graphs in reverse displayed on the transparent holographic screen, but the writing was too small to make out many details.  It looked like some kind of energy monitoring.  “What sort of data?”

“Nothing much.  Just a small project I’m working on with a… friend.  Chorban is his name.”  He was trying to speak casually, but there was a nervousness in his voice that belied his tone.

She grinned at him over the top of her datapad.  “You’re a terrible liar, Alenko.”

“I’m better with a hand of cards in front of me,” he joked.  “Really, it’s not anything special.  I agreed to help him collect some information.  He’s been slow getting back to me.  Work’s been kicking him in the teeth- some big find that has everyone in his group jumping.”

“Where does he work?”

“ExoGeni, I think.  One of those huge heartless corporations.”  He scrolled down a little further, still frowning at the charts with a touch of exasperation.  “He’s silent for weeks, and then suddenly dumps all this in my lap.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “Heartless is a pretty strong word for you.”

Alenko didn’t glance up from his work.  “Nothing wrong with business, until they’re handed responsibility that should be with the government, with all the oversight that goes along with it.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“You’ve been in it since you were eighteen.  You’ve got to know the Alliance loves contracting out work that’s expensive, difficult, or time-consuming, especially when it doesn’t fall under their usual tasks.”

“And you’ve got a specific example.”  It wasn’t a question.  He only got that faint, bitter undertone when he was talking about his childhood aboard Jump Zero.  Shepard was intensely curious but understood instinctively that pressing him for details would only shut him down.

Today, however, it appeared she was in luck.  He set the datapad down in his lap.  “You ever hear of a company called Conatix?”

“Not anything good.  There were rumors they were arranging ‘accidental’ exposures to element zero out in the colonies.  I don’t know if they were true, but the scandal certainly killed the firm.”  She bit her lip.  “Is that how you…”

“No.”  He shook his head.  “My dad was stationed in Singapore when my mom was pregnant.  There was a transport crash.  It was the first time a large group of people were exposed all at once, so it was the first time they were able to track anything statistically.  Most of the kids were fine.  Some were born with brain tumors.  And some started pulling snacks off the top of the fridge with their minds when they were about five years old.”

Shepard laughed, not unkindly.  “It figures it’d be food with you.”

“Hey, there’s a reason biotics get larger rations.  The lightshow takes a lot of energy,” he protested.  “Anyway, it took my mom forever to figure out how I was doing it.  Though I guess it would be more troubling if her first thoughts ran to ‘my kindergartener is telekinetic’.  Nobody knew about the potential back then.  They took me to a bunch of doctors, none of whom had answers, and then my dad asked some psychiatrist he knew from work.  That’s when we found out about the others.”

She pretended to scroll through a message, as if she were only casually interested in the conversation, not wanting to put him off.  “So how does Conatix get mixed up in this?”

“How do things like that ever happen?  People were afraid.  Once they figured out the connection to eezo, realized the possibilities, the Systems Alliance passed the Element Zero Subject Identification Act, which essentially authorized the military to set up a program to study kids who had been exposed.  Conatix was subcontracted to oversee the operation.”  He fidgeted with the datapad.  “A bunch of guys in suits would show up at your house after school, and you’d be on Jump Zero by nightfall.  They didn’t give us much of a choice.”

“Holy hell.”  Shepard was taken aback.  He’d hinted at it before, but somehow her mind managed to smooth over the implications.  “How old were you?”

“I was nine.”  He was quiet a long moment.  “It wasn’t all bad.  We had serious problems- when we started trying to use biotics for non-trivial exercises, kids ended up breaking their own limbs.  The training they put together and the brain implants they developed put a stop to that.  And we weren’t alone.  That helped.”

Shepard couldn’t see how it helped much at all.  “But they kept you away from your families, on a research station at the edge of the solar system.  You told me it was like being in a zoo.”

“I don’t want to make it sound like… look, it is what it is.”  Alenko looked up at the ceiling a long moment, leaning back in the couch.  “You’re right about families.  We figured out they were editing the messages we sent home the second year- nothing that smacked of unhappiness or criticism was allowed out.  There wasn’t much point in trying after that.  But we weren’t hungry or homeless, and we had the kind of education money can’t buy, individually designed for us.  Plenty of kids grow up with worse.”

“I don’t understand how none of this got out.”  At this point, she’d abandoned all pretense of not being invested.  “They conducted _experimental brain surgery_ on children, for god’s sake- there’s no way the public would have stood for it.”

“Like I said, people were scared,” he answered patiently.  “Biotics are like… magic.  People don’t understand it and they don’t appreciate it.  And they’re right- I know exactly what happens if someone like me loses control.  It’s not like…” 

He trailed off, then cleared his throat and continued in a somewhat more normal voice.  “And besides, the Alliance classified most of it after the program was shut down.  Covering their mistakes.” 

She stared at him, having no idea what was appropriate to say or do next.  Crack a joke? Hug him?  Act like nothing was said?  “Kaidan, I’m so sorry.”

“God, please don’t do that.” He forced out a chuckle, pained.  “This is why I don’t tell people.  Because they all start looking at you like that.”

“What the hell makes you think I have no experience in being looked at like that?  I can’t show my face in public without someone reminding me I watched monsters kill fifty marines in the dead of night.”  Shepard wrinkled her nose.  “ ‘How does that make you feel, Commander?’ ‘Do you see their faces when you sleep?’ ”  She dropped the mocking tone and sighed.  “There’s no harm in admitting some things are exactly as bad as they are.”

“I dealt with this a long time ago, same as you,” he replied in measured tones. 

Shepard snorted, amused, and gave him a lopsided smile.  “If that’s so, then you must be pretty screwed up.”

He laughed despite himself, and shook his head.  “You’re insane.”

“My point exactly.”  She turned back to her email, switching back to the original topic.  “So things slowed down at work with your friend, I take it?”

“Yeah.  The outpost that was feeding them data shut down suddenly, he says.  Freed up a lot of his time.”  He picked up the pad again, his eyes flicking over the message to where he left off.

“Mmm-hmm.”  She was working through her own backlog of messages.  Characterizing Kahoku as angry was an understatement.  She’d sent him a summary of their findings on Edolus and images of the transmitter cover.  He hadn’t recognized it either, but now he was vowing to take it to the Shadow Broker.  It was enough to make her wonder if the old admiral had finally snapped; his obsession with one lost mission was unhealthy.  It was sad truth of military life in a dangerous galaxy that sometimes soldiers died, sometimes for reasons that would never be fully understood.

The next message was from Admiral Hackett.  That was a first.  He commanded the whole of the Fifth Fleet and by seniority was third in command of the entire Systems Alliance Navy.  Even spectres didn’t make his radar under most circumstances.  So it was with a mix of curiosity and trepidation that she opened the email.

The content made her cringe.  Apparently, Alliance Command was significantly less amused by her purposeful tongue-slip regarding Saren’s identity yesterday morning.  Her indiscretion earned her a severe reprimand reminding her in no uncertain terms of the definition of need-to-know and that her orders came from her superiors, not her own whims. 

_To hell with all of them_ , she thought, uncharitably.  She was doing her best.  Revoking Saren’s spectre status would remove his unfettered access to Council space, but it did nothing for warning their colonies that he was dangerous.  It wasn’t like Saren would allow some beleaguered customs officer to stop him moving freely.  She meant what she told Garrus.  People deserved the right to protect themselves, and the Alliance truly wasn’t large enough to do it for them, not completely.

Across from her, Alenko was grousing under his breath.  “Twenty gigabytes of data out of nowhere and he expects me to look at it right away.  Just because he’s not busy until Feros comes back online doesn’t mean I don’t have other things to do.  This was a bad idea.”

He tapped away at the pad irritably.  Shepard glanced up, with a kind of prickling in her gut.  “What was that?”

He turned red.  “Sorry ma’am.  I kind of got shanghaied into helping him the first time we were on the Citadel.  He has his damned VI do all the processing and- I don’t know what I was thinking volunteering.”

“No, not that.”  She was almost afraid to ask directly, as if deliberate inspection would collapse her inkling of intuition.  “What is Feros?”

“ExoGeni is a strange company.  They subsidize new colonies for people who want to move out to the frontier, but can’t afford it.”  He looked faintly disgusted.  “It’s kind of exploitative, honestly.  Usually the planets they select don’t have much going for them except loads of Prothean ruins that the colonists mine for tech- all of which is owned by ExoGeni, of course.”

Shepard licked her lips.  Slowly, she said, “So, if I have this right- an entire Traverse colony smack in the middle of an old Prothean world went offline not more than a few days ago?”

Alenko stared at her a long moment, and then said a word that was very unlike him and until that instant Shepard could not have sworn was part of his vocabulary.  “And here I am so concerned with this damned useless data that I couldn’t even see it.”

“Wait- how the hell did Alliance Command not know about this?  This is exactly the kind of intel they would have sent us straight away.”

He shook his head.  “They may not know.  It’s a company world.  Private colonies are sometimes kept pretty close to the chest.  They don’t ask for help until it’s far too late.”

She got to her feet and her hand went to her mouth, trying to swallow her sudden excitement, and remind herself that it might not mean anything.  But it was the first break of any kind they’d had since finding Liara. 

He stood at the same time as her.  Their eyes met, both elated by the good news, and unexpectedly Shepard threw her arms around him, a hug so quick and tight she was letting go almost as soon as it started.  Alenko was bewildered.  “Ma’am?”

“Come on,” she said, grinning broadly as she headed for the stairs.  “We’re going to Feros.”

“Are we walking there, ma’am?”

Shepard called over her shoulder without breaking her stride.  “No- I need you to tell me where it is!”


	22. Zhu's Hope

Shepard hooked her thumbs in her pockets and leaned back from the holographic data display with a sigh.  “We can’t say we weren’t expecting this.”

Pressly reached into the interface and dragged out a keyhole image of ExoGeni’s colony, fruit of the _Normandy’s_ efforts the last two hours taking surveillance from orbit around Feros.  The galaxy map lay flat on the island in the CIC to make room for their planning.  “They’re blocking all communications, the same as on Eden Prime, but from what we’ve seen the bulk of the geth are concentrated here and here.”

He circled two regions.  Shepard leaned forward, frowning.  “That’s ExoGeni HQ, snuggled up against the heart of the colony.  What’s the other location?”

“It’s a small outpost called Zhu’s Hope.  The colonists assigned there handle logistics for the rest of Feros.  Evidently, they’re not self-sufficient.  The shipping logs Tali and Garrus pulled show a lot of off-world deliveries.”

“And they all come through Zhu’s Hope.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Explains why Saren’s hitting them so hard.  Keep the spaceport bottled up and nobody else can escape to sound an alarm.”  Shepard glanced to her left.  “Bakari, any sign of Saren’s flagship?”

“No, ma’am.”  His fingers flew across his terminal and another image appeared on the display.  “We have spotted a smaller vessel bearing some crude similarities.”

Shepard studied the ship, clinging to the side of ExoGeni HQ like the insect it resembled.  It was smaller, sleeker somehow, and painted a silvery gray rather than black.  There was no lightening crackling about its limbs.  Her mouth thinned into a hard line.  “The jamming signal came from Saren’s ship.  A force of this size represents a major commitment to this front.  He’s here somewhere, I know it.  I can feel it.”

First Eden Prime, with its thousands of casualties.  Then Therum and its miners, desperate people on the edge of space just scraping out a living.  Now Feros- if there was ever a spot where people were holding onto the last of their hope with both hands, this was it.  Saren was willing to tear all that apart in search of one bauble of a prior age.

Her eyes pierced the footage as though she could peel back the obstructions by sheer force of will.  _Where are you hiding, you slimy son of a bitch?_

Pressly zoomed out, showing a good chunk of the surface of the planet.  “Ma’am, Feros was some kind of Prothean city-world.  It’s covered in ruins.  The flagship is large, but there’s still plenty of cover.  Taking pictures from orbit severely limits camera perspective.”

Joker came on the comm.  “Commander, I’m getting uncomfy leaving our ass hanging out here like this.  IES is going down in fifteen.  We have to vent or we’ll cook everyone on the ship.”

“Right.”  She surveyed the intel one final time and made her decision.  “Prepare for landing at Zhu’s Hope.  We’re going in.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”  Joker sounded excited.

Pressly gave her a glance.  “The stealth system can’t cloak reentry.  We’re going to light up the sky like a small asteroid.”

“I know.  But we can’t handle this with a Mako drop.  The entire colony is under assault.”  She dismissed the data feeds, brought the map back up to its usual position, and returned her X.O.’s concern with a level stare.  “I don’t know what we’re barging into, but I need to find out.  I’m leaving the _Normandy_ in your hands.  Keep her running until we know how hot it’s going to get.”

“Should I have a relay jump destination ready, ma’am?”

“Yes.  Don’t tell me where it is.”  She met his eyes, expression sober.  “We don’t know where Saren’s real ship is hiding.  He’s not an idiot so he has to know we’re following him.  This could be a trap.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Pressly, a career man, wasn’t new to hard decisions.  He saluted.  “Yes, ma’am.  On your order and not before.”

“I’ll radio you when we’re inside.  If the shit starts flying or you don’t hear from me within an hour, use that jump.”

“Understood, ma’am.”

“Good.  Tell Adams to start the core discharge as soon as we meet the ground and be ready to run.”  She pushed away from the map and headed towards the stairs.  “I’m going to suit up.  The deck is yours.”

_Normandy’s_ marines were already waiting on the lower deck when Shepard arrived.  She gave them a curt nod.  “Gear up.  We’re going in on foot.”

There were salutes all around as people started pulling armor off the racks.  She wasn’t surprised to see Garrus and Wrex suiting up with the others- they were going stir crazy trapped on the ship the last few weeks.  Shepard retrieved her own gear and slid it on, testing the shoulder of her hard suit with a touch of concern.  It was a good repair from the damage of Therum, but she hadn’t gotten a real chance to test it in combat conditions. 

Joker’s voice crackled through the bay.  “ETA 10 minutes.”

“Right.”  Shepard stopped fidgeting with the armor webbing and snagged a datapad.  Everyone crowded around it as she showed them the plan.  “We’re going to set down in one of Zhu’s Hope’s docking bays, nice and regular.  From what we can tell the colony’s been under full assault for the better part of a week.”

Alenko frowned at the map.  “They’ve got to have some kind of security force to hold out that long.”

“Don’t know.  Not Alliance at any rate.”  Shepard pointed.  “There should be a tunnel leading from the dock to the habitats here.   We may encounter some resistance.  The goal is to get to the colonists as quickly and quietly as we can.”

She looked around at the assembled marines.  “Pressly and the rest of the crew will hang back with the ship until we know what’s going on.  Short-range communications should remain functional.  First priority when we arrive is to secure the spaceport against further attacks.  Any questions?”

There was a chorus of _no ma’ams_ and she smiled.  They looked determined, and more than ready to see a little action.  “Then let’s go kick some silicon ass.”

They assembled in the airlock and started the decontamination protocol as Joker settled the ship into place.  He came on the comm as the outer hatch slid open.  “Good hunting, Commander.”

“You better not scratch my ship while I’m gone.”

He feigned offense.  “Me?!”

She snorted a laugh.  “Shepard out.”

The air of levity didn’t last long as they moved into the spaceport.  The docks were abandoned.  It was eerie- crates of goods, some clearly marked as food, were simply abandoned in place, and the yawning maws of the empty docking bays gaped from shadows.  They spread out a bit, moving forward cautiously, scouting the empty halls. 

After a few minutes of walking, Corporal Greico came over the comm link.  “Commander, I think you need to see this.”

She made her way to his location.  He was accompanied by Private Chase and a rusty smear on the ground that immediately dropped her spirits.  “You found one of the dock workers?”

Chase turned towards her, but she was unexpectedly smiling.  “Commander- he’s still alive!”

Indeed, Greico was kneeling beside a crate with his omni-tool activated.  Shepard moved around the cargo and saw a man in overalls propped against a wall, ashen-faced, his hand clenched to his stomach.  Sweat beaded his dark skin.  It was clear that he’d only survived because it took so damn long for a stomach wound to kill a man.

She called for a general halt over the comm and squatted next to Greico.  The injured man rolled his head towards her, eyes blank. 

Greico glanced her way.  “I gave him some medi-gel and painkillers, but he’s pretty out of it, ma’am.”

“What’s your name?” she asked gently.

“D- David.”  He coughed a bit, wincing with every breath.  “David al Talaqani.”

“Can you tell me what happened here, David?”

He swallowed, nodded, tried to speak but only managed to cough some more.  Shepard glanced at Greico’s diagnostic.  David was in bad shape, but stable.  “In your own time.  No rush.”

He took a rasping breath.  “They came up through the old tunnels.  Machines.  They took the dock first, made off with our shuttles.”  More coughing.  “They killed most everyone I expect.  Left me for dead here.”

Shepard brought up her personal ladar, hating herself for checking, but well aware this man could be bait for an ambush, to get them to open their doors while their backs were turned.  Nothing registered.  She decided to err on the side of mercy.  “We have a medical facility aboard our ship.  I can take you back there.”

He nodded, and accepted Greico’s help getting to his feet.  “Did- is the colony-“

“Under attack, but as far as we can tell, still there,” Shepard supplied, guessing at his question.  “I’m sorry, we won’t have more information until we make it to the habs.”

He nodded.  Her attention snapped to the two marines.  “Take him to Chakwas, then get back.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”  He got David propped up against his side.

She watched them hobble off for a long moment, before returning to the remainder of the squad to continue pressing forward. 

The colonists made use of the Prothean ruins wherever they could.  Shepard recognized some similarities from Therum in the architecture.  Liara told her while they were in transit that sites like Feros weren’t tremendously uncommon, or of particular value to archaeologists.  These planets were gutted, with little working technology or even cultural objects of interest, like furniture or decorations.  Companies like ExoGeni were betting stacks of credits that with enough time and cheap labor they could ferret out something of value from the near-barren remains.

Large swaths of the ancient city would be uninhabitable by the asari’s estimate.  Time and weather took their toll.  Even Prothean construction didn’t last forever.  Shepard wondered, uncomfortably, if Earth’s structures would fare so well after fifty millennia of disuse.  The concrete, or whatever the Protheans used, was riddled with pits and cracks.  In places along the walls it sloughed off in sheets, leaving behind uneven piles of chunky gravel.  Moss clung to the corners where water trickled down through patiently grown cracks in the massive structure.

There was a tangled mess of tunnels, hallways, and stairs leading out from the docks.  Shepard was certain that with twice as many marines and a month to work with she couldn’t scout them all.  They made her uneasy.  The passageway was dark, the flickering emergency lights marking the path to Zhu’s Hope providing scant illumination.  Every entrance leading into the depths of the ruins they left behind them made her more anxious.  There were just too many places for geth to hide.  The ladar was all but useless with so many walls surrounding them to block the signal. 

She strained her hearing instead, allowing the electronics buried in her arm and ear to boost even the smallest sounds into audible range.  Her omni-tool cast the shadowed tunnel in an orange glow like a witchlight.  _Marine, spectre, sorceress.  That’s me._

Artificially enhanced, even the footsteps of her companions were almost unbearably loud as they pressed forward in relative silence.  She filtered them out.  It left a softer but similar sound, coming from up ahead, metal falling against concrete at regular intervals.  Synthetic footsteps.

She dismissed the augmentation, returning her to a world of ordinary sound, and signaled her findings.  They moved into what cover they could find and continued on, weapons readied.  Shepard peered around a corner.

Three geth clustered together, motionless now.  Shepard figured they were waiting for something.  They were alien to observe- no shuffling, fidgeting, or sighing as they waited, not at all like human troops, absolutely still.  She held her breath and eased forward.

Apparently, her very human functions, the breath in her lungs, the creaking joints of her suit, were glaringly loud to geth instrumentation.  Those slender heads whipped around like lighthouse beacons, half-blinding her.  Shepard didn’t stop to think.  “Hostile units!  Fire!”

Gunfire rang out immediately in the hall as the crew of the _Normandy_ took on the geth, and the machines answered in kind.  They weren’t foolish; sensing odds not in their favor, the synthetics fled along the barely-lit pathway, firing behind them to deter followers.  It forced the marine squad to stick to cover as they pursued their targets.

There was no pretense of quiet now.  Boots thudded against the floor, bullets ricocheted off the walls, and the geth’s own strange electronic grunts mingled with human cries to fill the hallway with sound.  It echoed like a cavern.

Either the noise or a silent transmission drew enemy reinforcements to their location.  Six additional units, including two of the stealth models, poured from side passageways.  They kept up the pressure, keeping the geth in retreat- until they rounded a corner and were met with a sudden barrage of gunfire pointed directly at them.

As they emerged into the final passageway, they saw the geth pinned by colonial defenders, grim-faced men and women hiding behind makeshift barricade of crates and repurposed hab partitions.  They weren’t particularly good shots.  The marines found themselves confronting a good deal of friendly fire.

The squad scattered, taking cover as best they could against the colonists and the geth, who by now were berserk in their desperation to survive.  Shepard crouched against the wall and took aim.  “Don’t hit the colonists!”

Caught between marines and the surprise attack from the front, the geth didn’t stand a chance.  However, the colonists, spooked, continued to shoot into the tunnel after the final synthetic fell.

“Cease fire!”  Shepard tucked her head to her chest as a stray shot rained bits of concrete down on her head from the wall.  

She sucked in a breath and bellowed down the hall.  “We’re Alliance!  This is Commander Shepard!  Hold your fire!  We’re here to help you!”

There was sudden silence as they got themselves under control at last.  Someone called out from behind the barricade.  “Come out with your hands up!”

Shepard gave her squad a quelling look and stood, slowly, leaving her rifle on the ground.  As she stepped into view, her Alliance-issued gear and insignia plain, the ten-odd weapons pointed at her relaxed a hair.  The speaker motioned her forward without lowering his pistol. 

Shepard stood at ease as they scanned her.  “Happy?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, laying down his gun.  Once he let down his guard, his total exhaustion was evident.  Dark circles shadowed his eyes and his clothes looked like they hadn’t seen changing in days.  “I’m Davin Reynolds.  These people are all residents of Zhu’s Hope.  We haven’t had much trust to spare lately.”

“I understand.  My squad?”  She raised an eyebrow.

He nodded.  “They can come out.”

Shepard turned and called over her shoulder.  “Move up!  We’ve got friendlies.”

The man watched them approach, the disappointment on his face mirrored across the other defenders.  “I’d hoped there were more of you.”

“We’re just one frigate,” she replied briskly, trying not to sound apologetic.  The Alliance didn’t advise people to sign up with these kinds of risky ventures.  And while Shepard did report her findings to the Fifth Fleet en route to Feros, if she had to guess ExoGeni would block any rescue effort to protect their own interests. 

That didn’t make what was happening to the people caught in the crossfire right or fair.  Shepard gave a version of the truth.  “We’ve been tracking the geth since Eden Prime.  I’m sure you know they’re jamming communications from this planet.”

Davin’s face fell.  “So you’re not actually here to help us.”

She looked around the scene, taking in their tired, defeated faces, the coat of grime overlaying their clothes and the makeshift barricades, the bargain bin weaponry two generations out of date.  Then she looked back at her squad of marines, at turns determined, disgusted, and angry as hell as they took in what the geth had done to this colony. 

Shepard rubbed her face.  Saren was out there, waiting for her.  This was a diversion.  It had to be.

_“I do solemnly swear to support and defend the territories of the Systems Alliance against all threats, within and without, under the orders of Parliament and such superiors as they care to appoint, in all circumstances such as they may come, so help me God.”_

_Fuck._

Her gaze shifted back to Davin.  “We’ll do everything we can, but honestly the quickest way to get these flashlights the hell out of your colony might be to help me find what I’m seeking.  As soon as I have that, they’ll lose interest.”

“Right.”  His voice took on a more businesslike tone.  “You’ll need to talk to Fai Dan.”

A short woman with curly blonde hair cut close to her head, and a more professional grip on her rifle than most, sauntered over, popping the back off the gun to vent the heat sink faster.  “Davin, that was a recon team.  The real thing’ll be here any minute.”

Shepard rapidly assessed the situation.  “How many?”

The woman grimaced.  “Could be as few as ten, could be as many as thirty.”

“Thirty?”  Shepard was taken aback.  Alenko was right- it was nothing short of miraculous they’d held out this long, rag-tag as they seemed.  They must be made of sterner stuff than met the eye.

The blonde nodded grimly in confirmation.  Shepard blew out a breath.  “Alright.  I’m going to see this Fai Dan.  Lieutenant!”

Alenko was checking the grip on his pistol.  “Ma’am?”

“Hold this barricade.  I don’t want a single one of those robotic bastards setting foot beyond this tunnel while I’m gone.  Understood?”

He saluted and answered with the kind of grim satisfaction she’d expect from Williams.  “Yes, ma’am.”

Maybe she’d underestimated just how furious the crew was becoming with the geth, after Eden Prime, Therum, and now this.  Well, this would be a productive way of working it out, if nothing else.  No small part of her wished she could join them instead of seeing to the planning. 

As Alenko started ordering the marines to defensive positions, she nodded to Davin.  “Lead on.”

“Greta,” he called, and the blonde woman joined them as they headed back into the colony itself.

 As they walked past the habs, Shepard realized what the surveillance images hadn’t revealed.  This wasn’t a modular colony.  This was the wreck of a modular ship, a basic freighter if she knew anything about ships at all.  It shouldn’t have been on the ground.  That model was spaceworthy only.

It was strange enough to raise questions.  “Is there where you live?  In this ship?”

Greta almost laughed.  “No- Commander, was it?  We got stranded here when the geth landed.  We converted the ship to a temporary defensive fallback.  Before that, we were using it as… well, a break room of sorts.”

“You’ve got a decent number of people here.”

“Mmm.  Well, it was the middle of the day and most of us work at the spaceport.  It’s the only real activity here aside from the research.  That’s at the other end of the colony.  We’ve been cut off since the attack.  God knows if they’re even still alive out there.”

She filed that away for later use.  “Fai Dan is your leader?”

Davin nodded.  “You could say that.  He’s guided us through the worst of this so far.”

Behind the bulk of the ship, a middle-aged man with Asiatic features was engaged in a heated debate with a young woman clad in armor bearing the ExoGeni logo.  They paused their conversation as the trio approached.  The woman spoke first.  “Who the hell is this?”

“Arcelia,” the man chided.  He glanced at Shepard, speculatively, and held out his hand.  “I am Fai Dan, the leader of this humble outpost.”

She shook it.  “Lieutenant Commander Shepard, Fifth Fleet, Systems Alliance Navy.  My ship, the _Normandy_ , just docked in your spaceport.  What exactly is going on here?”

“Have you got _eyes_ in that overstuffed head of yours, _Lieutenant Commander_?” the woman, Arcelia, asked with elaborate sarcasm.

Shepard regarded her coolly.  “I was hoping for more detail than ‘we’re being invaded by geth’.”

Fai Dan sighed.  “You’ll have to excuse Agent Martinez.  The past week has been quite… trying, for all of us.”

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Martinez muttered under her breath.  She looked scared.

Shepard returned to the topic at hand.  “Greta said you’ve seen parties as large as thirty geth.”

“Not all geth,” Fai Dan corrected.  “Mostly machines, yes, but also some krogan.  The last killed three of us before we managed to subdue him.”

The krogan from Therum flashed through her mind, the one leading the geth sortie who seemed less than coordinated at their final battle.  _It can’t be coincidence.  What is Saren doing with krogan?_

Aloud, she said, “What about turians or asari?”

He blinked.  “No, nothing like that.  Why do you ask?”

“I have reason to believe a turian named Saren Arterius is leading the geth attacks on our colonies.”  She saw no reason to keep the information private.  “It’s believed that an asari matriarch, Benezia, may be traveling in his company.  Do either of those names ring a bell?”

The four colonists exchanged glances that went on a little longer than was expected.  Shepard’s brow furrowed.  However, before she could remark on it, Fai Dan answered.  “No, Commander.  Just the krogan and the machines, as we said.”

He was calm- almost too calm given the situation.  Her eyes slid from person to person.  Carefully, sidestepping the incongruity for the moment, she moved on to her next question.  “He’s seeking out Prothean sites specifically.  We think he may be looking for particular kinds of Prothean technology.  Do you have any idea what he might want here?”

Fai Dan shook his head.  “No, Commander, none.”

“You didn’t find anything lately?  No big discoveries for ExoGeni?” she pressed.  Kaidan’s contact- whoever he was- had hinted at a major find.

“That would be proprietary.”

“I don’t have any interest in your trade se-“  At that moment, the comm crackled in her ear.  She turned away slightly and pressed her finger against it.  “Shepard.  What?”

Alenko’s voice cut across the static.  The jamming was effecting even short-range comms.  “We’ve got a problem here, Commander.”

She heard something that sounded like shots ricocheting off a shield, followed by some light cursing.  “What was that?”

“They moved up a few floors in the structure when they realized they couldn’t take us from the front.”  His voice sounded strained.  “I’ve got a barrier up but I’m not sure how long-“

More shots, muted, interrupted the transmission.  Williams came on the line.  “The L.T.’s kinda got his hands full here, ma’am.  Short of it- if we pull out under cover, they’ll storm us from the front, and if the barrier goes down they’ll shoot the tops off our heads.”

“I’m on it.  Hold position.  Shepard out.”  She looked up at Fai Dan.  “We’re going to have to continue this later.”

“Go,” he said, without hesitation. 

She ran back to the barricade.  Most of the squad, marines and colonists alike, remained crouched behind their crates.  Alenko stood in the middle, one hand stretched above him, wearing a look of intense concentration.  A translucent hemisphere of bluish-purple arced over the group.  Three stories up, a geth unit leaned over the balcony and took another potshot.  Every muscle in his body tensed as the bullet struck the barrier, but for now, it continued to hold. 

Williams scuttled over, not breaking cover.  “He says the real problem is if they get smart enough to start dropping grenades.”

“That’s a happy thought.”  Shepard reached forward and tapped Garrus’ shoulder.  “Vakarian.”

He twisted, looking at her over his shoulder.  “Tight spot, right Shepard?”

“Can you actually use that sniper rifle of yours, or is it just for show?”

“Oh, I can do better than use it.”  His mandibles flared out, a turian grin.  “You have an idea?”

“You’re with me.  Williams, stay with the L.T.  Keep everyone in cover.”  She clapped the chief on the back and retreated towards the ship-turned-hab.

They went around the corner, out of the sight of the snipers, and Shepard started searching for a way to the roof.  Garrus understood her intention immediately.  “Give me a boost and I can haul you up after.”

“Stay low.”  She cupped her hands, making a cradle for his boot, and threw him up towards the top of the module.  It was just enough help for the turian to grab onto a flange and drag himself the rest of the way.  He reached down a hand, lying on his stomach, and helped her scale the wall. 

The top of the ship was scattered with makeshift repairs to render the fallen behemoth surface-habitable, from HVAC tubes to power generators- plenty of places to provide some limited cover as they belly crawled towards the front edge.  The height of the module improved their angle just enough to give them a shot at the geth they couldn’t clear from the ground.

Shepard curled up behind an air conditioning unit while Garrus took up similar station across from her.  She didn’t mince any words.  “You know the drill.  You see a shot, you take it.”

The sniper rifle unfolded smoothly in her hands.  It was a weapon requiring an entirely different skill set from the others in her arsenal.  This was a watchmaker’s paradise.  Making precision shots at long range required trigonometry, planning, assessment of conditions which would alter the path of the bullet, like wind and gravity.  These days the scope did a lot of the calculation on its own.  Some tripods would even adjust the aim of the gun automatically, but Shepard wasn’t packing one of those.

She sighted along the barrel, finding her target, and followed the adjustments advised by her scope as it tasted the local environment.  The geth vanished from her sights, but not from the trajectory of her shot.  Her eye moved away and waited for the right moment.

As the synthetic leaned forward, its own rifle sliding into place, she squeezed the trigger.

The shot didn’t miss.  A milky white spray filled her sights and the geth unit fell back from the balcony at some speed.  Garrus also found his target, to the left of hers.  Calmly, though not without the slightest hint of an exchanged smile, they hunkered down and waited for the weapons to cool.

They repeated the exercise three times before the geth gave up.  Sliding lightly from the roof- getting down was considerably easier than getting up- the pair returned to the barricade.  Once it was clear the geth weren’t going to attempt the tactic a fifth time, Alenko let the barrier fall and now slumped against a crate, massaging his forehead.  Shepard guessed his little pills had also made an appearance.  He tossed her a weak salute.

“Chief, take Draven and Greico and scout ahead a bit.  Make sure they’re not coming back.”  She watched them saunter off before turning her attention to her lieutenant.  “You okay?”

He peered up at her.  His voice seemed to come from a long way off.  “Nothing a giant greasy hamburger and about three days of sleep won’t fix.”

She chuckled and shook her head.  “Fresh out of greasy burgers.”

“That’s a shame.”  Alenko leaned his head back against the crate and closed his eyes.

Williams got her attention over the comm.  “It looks clear, ma’am.  Nothing but scrap up here.”

“Roger that.  Come on home.”  Shepard was lowering her hand from her ear when Fai Dan and his coterie reappeared.

He surveyed the scene.  “Impressive work.  Thank you, Commander.”

Martinez looked queasy.  “Was that… biotics?”

She said it like a dirty word.  Shepard watched Alenko open one eye, warily, and she took a step towards Martinez.  “Those biotics just saved the lives of these defenders, so whatever your problem is, I suggest you get over it.”

The rent-a-cop from ExoGeni continued her criticism.  “What kind of Alliance ship travels with aliens aboard, anyway?”

Garrus flicked his rifle back into locked position and holstered it on his back.  “Shepard’s not just an Alliance officer.  She’s also a spectre.  Different circumstances.”

“Wow, you must really think we’re hicks.”  Martinez’s derisive laughter had a nasty edge.  “There aren’t any human spectres.”

“No, wait a moment, Arcelia,” Greta interrupted before the woman could begin a tirade.  “I think it was on one of Darcy’s shows, that junk she watches from the Citadel.  She’s telling the truth.”

“Darcy is…?” Shepard asked.

“Our daughter.”  Greta rolled her eyes, exasperated, looking over at Davin.  “If she’s not complaining about moving here instead of the Citadel- as if it were at all the same- she’s going on about that damned boy from HQ.  Teenagers.”

“I take it you’re not happy about her seeing someone from corporate?”

“He’s 22, she’s 16,” Davin said shortly.  “Being a researcher from corporate is just the start of things that don’t make me happy.”

Fai Dan was coming to the end of a thought.  “I’ve thought about what you asked.”

Shepard was keen immediately.  “You know what Saren wants?”

He grimaced almost as if in pain, and chose his words carefully.  “…no.  But your… best chance of driving out the geth is to get to headquarters.  Unfortunately…”

Shepard could see where this was going.  “You’ve been cut off from communication since this started.”

Martinez took up the thread.  “Yes, but it’s worse.  There’s no direct path that I know of from here to HQ or the residential area of the colony.”

“What?”  She was momentarily baffled.  “How did you get back and forth?”

“We used the shuttles.”  Martinez’s frustration was clear.  “This was a spaceport back in the Prothean days.  Over there was housing.  ExoGeni made use of both spaces already here to save money.”

Shepard groaned.  “And the geth commandeered all the shuttles.  Right.”

“How do you know that?”  There was a hush of excitement in Fai Dan’s tone.

She dusted off her hands, already thinking ahead to her next move.  “We found David at the dock.  He ate a bullet in the gut, but we took him back to the _Normandy’s_ med bay for treatment.”

“That is joyful news.  We hadn’t thought there were any survivors.”

“Speaking of which, I need to check in with my ship.  If you’ll excuse me.”  Shepard took a few steps away from the group, back towards the tunnels, and tried to raise Pressly on her comm.  “Shepard to _Normandy_ , do you read?”

There was a burst of static.  Whatever jamming technology the geth employed, it was wreaking havoc even with ground communications.  Words were getting through, but it sounded like early radio from a historical drama vid.  Pressly’s voice wavered.  “Commander.  We’re standing by, all conditions nominal.”

“Good to hear it.  We’ve had some trouble here, but it’s clear for the moment.”  She paused, chewing it over, but she couldn’t see any way around it.  “I want to decamp a few of the remaining crew to Zhu’s Hope, and we need to retrieve some of the supplies sitting on the dock.  These people are in a bad way.”

“Sounds good,” he answered, the brief message popping with interference.  “What do you have in mind, ma’am?”

Shepard made certain to speak loudly and clearly.  “We just sent a pack of geth running.  We should have a window of relative safety.  I’m sending a team back.”

“Roger that, ma’am, read and understood.  We’ll await your team.”

“Shepard out.”  She cut the transmission. 

It took a little time, but by splitting her marines she was able to keep defenses running at Zhu’s Hope while ferrying back personnel and crates of food.  For some of the colonists, it was the first break they’d had from the barricades since the invasion.  Liara and Tali joined them along with Serviceman Bakari from communications.  She wanted to see if anything could be done about the interference and directed him to begin running experiments with Lowe back on the ship.  David al Talaqani was ecstatic to hear the colonists had survived, but Chakwas was not comfortable letting her patient leave as yet, so he remained aboard.

The Alliance milled about the camp, mixing with the colonists, who were almost universally filthy and exhausted from their unceasing vigil.  Shepard caught more than one of them seemingly staring at walls. They didn’t talk much, even amongst themselves.  Those kept away from the barricades worked quietly at solitary tasks.  “Something’s not right here.”

Liara thought she saw the answer.  “They’ve been severely traumatized by the invasion.”

Alenko had recovered enough to walk around, though his shoulders still drooped.  Someone had gotten him a ration of what looked like dried meat.  “I’ve seen trauma before.  I agree with the Commander, something’s off here.”

He took a bite.  Shepard jerked her chin towards the food.  “What is that, anyway?”

“Dunno.  Never had it before.”  He regarded the strip.  “It’s not half bad though.  Davin said he started making it the last time their stores ran low.  ExoGeni doesn’t put a priority on timely deliveries.”

“It’s not an easy life out here.”

Liara wrapped her arms around herself.  “You can say that again.  Who wants to live in a shipwreck?”

That inconsistency was niggling away at her mind as well.  “Why is there even a wreck here?  Why wasn’t it cleaned up?”

“Maybe it happened early in the attack?” Alenko suggested.

She shook her head.  “No, it looks like it’s been here longer.”

“I believe I can answer that.”  A salarian approached them, blinking in the light, his clothing somewhat better kept than the colonists’.  “The ship you’re looking at is the _Borealis_.  I chartered her to bring my stock to this world.”

“You’re a merchant.”

He bowed, acknowledging the truth of her statement.  “I am Inoste Ledra.  When my ship suffered a malfunction upon arrival, we decided to repurpose the remains as shelter for the spaceport workers.  The sun can become quite hot during the day.  It’s all the ancient pavement, see.”

Shepard raised her eyebrows.  “You didn’t want to go home?”

“Why?” he asked honestly.  “Zhu’s Hope is a peaceful place.  In time, I came to see the virtues of the colonists’ simple way of life, and the hope this colony represents.”

Alenko took a glance around the warzone.  “Peaceful.”

“Until recently.”

“I see.”  Shepard pursed her lips.  The salarian’s expression reflected nothing but unvarnished truth, but the story didn’t feel authentic to her.  A merchant, a _salarian_ , just give up interplanetary trade in one of the most dangerous corridors of Council space for a “simple life” in a shithole like Feros?  She wasn’t buying it.  But the slender green-tan alien seemed to believe himself completely.

His inner lids flicked over quiet black eyes.  He was nearly as still as the geth, waiting.  It was unnerving.  Shepard folded her arms, pushing the growing creepiness from her mind.  “Where’s ExoGeni’s security?  Surely they have more support than Martinez.”

“Many of them were at the docking bays.  They died early in the attack.”  Another blink.

“Didn’t you call for backup?”

“You need to speak to Fai Dan about that.”

Shepard’s brow furrowed.  “So the shuttles got knocked out early at HQ, too?  Saren hit both places at once?”

“As I said, you should speak with Fai Dan.”  The salarian glanced around, almost furtively.  “Excuse me.”

He walked about twenty feet away and took up position near the entrance to his wrecked ship.  It wasn’t precisely a guard stance- more like idling.  Shepard exchanged a baffled look with Liara and Alenko.  None of them knew what to make of it. 

“Maybe you’re right,” Liara admitted.  “Maybe there is something odd about this place.”


	23. Behind Geth Lines

Liara T’Soni exited the hab, stretching, and took in a deep lungful of scorched air.  The skies over Feros were resolutely gray, as they had remained for the past week, while the _Normandy_ crew worked alongside the colonists to repel the geth incursions and find a way across the ruins to ExoGeni headquarters and the bulk of the colony.  She wished it would rain and settle some of the blasted heat.  But this world was next to barren, a tangled heap of aging stone, concrete, and more exotic building materials, and the long stretches of unnatural terrain created by the city-world wreaked havoc on Feros’ climate.  Rain was unknown at this latitude. 

Garrus caught her eye as she wiped some of the sweat from her neck, his rifle balanced across his knees.  He’d scarcely left the barricades since _Normandy’s_ arrival.  “Shepard’s still at it?”

The asari shook her head, still spinning from hours in Shepard’s ad hoc command center.  Pulling in terminals from the hab, Shepard established data feeds linking back to her ship and now spent much of her time pouring over their scant collection of information.  “This planet is like a maze.  So far, nobody’s found a clear path.  Some of the younger analysts are beginning to jump every time she so much as moves.”

Garrus chuckled.  Despite the harsh conditions, or perhaps because of them, he seemed in his element.  “Shepard’s not an easy person to disappoint, even if you’re doing your best.”

“She has very high standards.”

“That she does.”  Garrus paused, looking back down the tunnel that led out of the spaceport.  “It might be time for some new ideas.”

Liara was intrigued despite herself.  “Like what?”

“I know we want to do this with a minimum of civilian casualties, but if we could just take out the anti-aircraft artillery Saren’s set up around HQ, we wouldn’t have to bother with maps and scans.”

She rotated her neck, tiredly, rubbing muscles sore from hours of scanning data.  “We reviewed that plan.  There’s no way to do it without taking out swaths of the colony in the process.”

“All the colonists are likely dead already.”

“We don’t know that,” she said patiently.

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t-“ He cut himself off as he caught site of an approaching figure, a young human woman dressed in the brown coveralls typical of Zhu’s Hope.  “Aw, dammit.”

“What?” Liara asked, turning.  She schooled her expression just in time.

The girl, Darcy Reynolds, was pretty and more than aware of it, with her father’s dark hair and flashing eyes, and her mother’s delicate features.  She was clutching a datapad breathlessly, and stopped just short of the hatch Liara was blocking with her body.  “Can I go inside?”

“The commander’s busy right now,” Garrus supplied quickly.

She drew herself up.  “But I have some data for her from Mr. Blake.”

The turian held out a hand.  “Give it here.  I’ll take a look.”

With great reluctance, she turned over the datapad.  Garrus ignored the girl entirely as he began to peruse the contents.  Darcy didn’t seem bothered.  She tucked her hands behind her back and craned her neck to watch him.

After a few moments, to clear the awkwardness as much as anything else, Liara said, “It’s unusual to find someone of your age working in a spaceport.”

Darcy wrinkled her nose.  “My dad says anyone old enough to hold a hammer’s old enough to work.  Life out here requires everyone to do their fair share.”

“You don’t agree with your father?”

She looked up towards the sky, wistfully.  “My parents wanted to move here, not me.  I remember what it was like before mom lost her job.  We were going to move to the Citadel, you know.  It must be so exotic, all the vids make it look like that.”

“The vids don’t show the ugly parts.  It’s very crowded, and it’s got its share of unsavory places.”

If anything, that notion seemed only to encourage her.  She drifted a step closer, her dark eyes wide.  “You’ve been there?  Tell me, please.”

There was more than a little whine to the request.  Liara shifted uncomfortably.  “Only a few times, truly.  The Commander had to escort me to a debriefing after I was rescued from Therum.  I’m an archaeologist.  I spend most of my time in places not much different than this.”

Darcy’s disappointment over her lack of experience with the Citadel was short-lived as she latched onto another statement of curiosity.  “You were rescued?  Were there space pirates?  I’ve watched so many vids about it-“

Liara had to laugh.  Darcy’s persistent and rather overbearing interest in their adventures grew tedious, but the girl was incorrigible.  “No, nothing that exciting.  The geth attacked Therum.  They were looking for me, because of what I know about the Protheans.”  She didn’t see any reason to mention her kinship with Benezia.  “I became trapped at the bottom of a mine, and Commander Shepard saved me.”

“She’s so amazing,” Darcy gushed.  “We were barely able to hold off the geth.  People were dying.  We haven’t lost a single person since she got here.”

Liara caught Garrus’ eye, sharing an amused look.  “On that we can agree.”

Darcy, however, was far from finished.  “I’ve seen every single vid about her since she became a spectre.  That’s the life- flitting around the galaxy in her very own spaceship, saving people and fighting bad guys.”  Her expression dimmed a bit as she kicked at the stairs.  “Loads better than moving crates from one end of the colony to another, anyway.”

Garrus tried to inject a little reality into the conversation.  “Shepard worked hard to get where she is, and it wasn’t easy.”

“What’s not easy?”  Lieutenant Alenko walked up to the small group, stretching, just coming off a sleep rotation.  “Garrus, they could use you over by the rear entrance.”

“Right.”  He stood.  “Martinez has a temper worse than Shepard’s, and I didn’t think that was actually possible.”

“She’s just scared.” 

Darcy interrupted, holding out her hand.  “Can I take the datapad to Commander Shepard now?”

Garrus glanced at Alenko and shook his head slightly.  The lieutenant sighed.  “Give it to me, I’ll take it.”

“I want to-“  Darcy began hotly.

At that moment, there was a low boom, a flash of light, and all the power in the station went out, leaving them blinking in the semi-twilight.  After a stunned second everyone started shouting.  They could make out Shepard’s familiar bellow rising above the rest.  The teenager stumbled as the hatch opened, bumping into Liara, who held her back from the sudden rush of people pouring from the hab.

The commander herself soon followed.  “What the hell is going on here?  We’re blind as bats!”

Alenko straightened.  “We’re not sure, ma’am.  There seems to have been some kind of power failure.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.  Is there anything in this piece of crap colony that isn’t falling apart?”  She rubbed her forehead, exasperated.  “It came from port side?”

“Yes, ma’am.  I was about to go have a look.”

Darcy pushed forward.  “Commander Shepard?  Ma’am?  I have some very important data from Mr. Blake-“

Shepard fixed the teenager with a flat look.  “Who are you?”

“Darcy Reynolds.”  She was taken aback by the edge in the commander’s tone.  “I met you when-“

“Darcy Reynolds,” Shepard said with all the patience she could muster, “We have no electricity.  Whatever the medical officer wants can wait until we fix this.”

The girl’s face fell.  She took a step back.

“Right.  Let’s go.”  Shepard snapped her gaze to the turian.  “You too, Garrus.”

They moved out, leaving Liara and the girl.  Darcy looked up at her and said in a tiny voice, “This place must really be awful, huh.”

“No,” Liara replied, firmly.  “She’s always short-tempered when she’s worried.  You can’t take it personally.  The truth is, she may be tough and irritable and sometimes downright rude, but she’d die for this colony if she had to.  Being a soldier means something to her.”

“My mom always said the Alliance was too good to be bothered with folks like us.”

“I don’t think that’s true.  Do you?”  Liara eyed her, questioning. 

“Nobody cares about us, ‘cept ExoGeni, and they only care about how much money we can make them.”  The words came easily, learned by rote, but her expression was uncertain.

Liara felt badly for her.  This place lacked opportunities for a bright or ambitious girl, and it was clear she coped by dreaming about an idealized world beyond the borders of her colony.  Now one of her heroes had come down from the sky, and the reality didn’t match up to the fantasy.  What harm could it do to give her some of that back, especially if it was true?  “Shepard’s survived everything the universe has thrown at her.  She saved Eden Prime.  Do you know Chief Williams?  She rescued her, too.  She got me off of Therum.  She was even at the Battle of Elysium, years ago.  She helps people who need her and it doesn’t matter who they are.  This colony is going to be fine, just wait.”

She gave the girl an encouraging smile.  After a moment, Darcy smiled back, her light-hearted disposition reasserting itself.  “I better go tell Mr. Blake about his data.  He wanted me to come right back.”

Liara watched her scamper off, shaking her head, bemused.  Shepard certainly had an appreciable fan club.  She wondered if she realized the impact she had on her own people.  Sometimes, it seemed like for all her prowess on the battlefield, Shepard was completely ignorant of her own personal gravity as she moved through the world.

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard retreated behind the shipwreck-turned-hab to consult with her omni-tool, which stored power from the movements of her own body, and contained all the correct protocols to link directly to the _Normandy_.  She was smart enough to know when her presence was only getting in the way.  Even if she weren’t, the technicians’ expressions spelled it out.

The display was a bit lacking compared to her electricity-dependent temporary command center.  Feros was a maze of ruined tunnels, buildings, crevasses, and rubble that could have been any or all of those things.  Scanners could only do so much.  Visual was shot to hell, of course, but infrared didn’t do much good either with unoccupied, unpowered spaces. 

_Saren’s keeping us bottled up in the spaceport with regular geth assaults- never enough to quite overrun the place, never so few that I feel comfortable taking any of my people off the defenses for some recon._

She frowned over the latest round of analysis from her team.  _Is that purposeful, like he wants to keep us here for some reason instead of destroying us?  Or does he just not have enough geth to hold both locations?_

For sure, if he finally sent enough geth to overrun Zhu’s Hope, the colonists would vanish into the maze, and he’d never be certain Zhu’s Hope was secure.  Shepard was surprised they hadn’t already done so.

She initially worried this was a trap.  What if it was only a distraction?  Who the hell knew how many geth Saren had under his control, anyway?  They still hadn’t seen any sign of his flagship.  Maybe he wasn’t even here.  What if this was simply a means to keep them grounded while he got a clear shot at the prize?

It was the kind of play she’d run in Saren’s position, searching for a high-value target with interference dogging her ass.  But Shepard operated on the premise that it was undesirable to kill innocent people trying to do their jobs.  Saren hadn’t shown much respect for traditional rules of engagement.  Sacrificing an entire colony to keep an enemy bottled up would be nothing to him.  It bothered her immensely that they had no idea what was happening at the other end of the colony.  There was no movement in or out during the few hours they observed from orbit, and no one in Zhu’s Hope had heard anything since the attack.  The jamming signal was sadly reliable.

The building at her back gave a great shudder as the air conditioning suddenly came back online.  Lights flickered to life all around the outpost. 

“Fricking finally,” Shepard muttered under her breath, and resumed her post inside.  It wasn’t much; scattered terminals, some chairs, a few crew borrowed from the _Normandy_ mixed with colonists familiar with electronics.  They cobbled together what maps the colonists possessed combined with their surveillance.  The last two days, Shepard even resorted to interviewing colonists to try to get a sense of the terrain.  But these weren’t explorers.  They were longshoremen and logistics coordinators.

It wasn’t long before Liara rejoined her.  The archaeologist was expert at interpreting images of Prothean ruins, and was familiar with their architectural conventions.  She had a knack for identifying the structures in their pictures.  Less happily, she’d brought the kid with her.

Shepard leveled her gaze at the pair.  “What?”

Darcy held the datapad between them like a shield.  Over her head, Liara mouthed, _be nice._ Shepard rubbed her forehead and dialed it back a notch.  “I mean, what is it?”

The girl took a tentative step forward.  “Mr. Blake, the medical officer, wanted me to deliver this to you.  You asked him for an inventory of supplies and a detailed list of casualties.”

She gave her as much of a smile as she could manage.  “I did.  Thank you.”

Her finger flicked through the data.  Darcy seemed to perk up a bit.  She was all of sixteen, that age when every little thing was either the best moment of her life or the end of the world, nothing in between.  What would have been a bad experience for an adult was happening to Darcy in technicolor.  Her misguided eagerness to help, usually in fairly unproductive ways, might be grating, but she wasn’t breaking down, and that was worth something.

Shepard reached for a little normalcy.  “You know, when I was sixteen I was living on a naval base on Mars.  It was about as boring as here.”

“Really?  How’d you get out?”  Her curiosity overcame her intimidation. 

She laughed.  “I joined the marines.”

The girl drifted forward another step.  “Why did you want to know how everyone got injured?  In the attacks, I mean.”

“Because it tells me something about what the geth are trying to accomplish.”  Shepard set down the datapad.  “They’re very good shots, and talented ambushers.  Frankly, they should have killed more of you.  The peripheral nature of the injuries suggests that they’re either trying to wear you down, or just keep you bottled up.  I’m not sure which.”

An odd look came over her face.  “You’re sure that’s what it is?”

“Pretty sure.  I’ve been doing this awhile.”  She raised an eyebrow.  “Why?  You got a different theory?”

Darcy opened her mouth, but then her expression tightened, a flinch of pain. “No, ma’am.  That must be right.”

Shepard’s brow creased.  “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly.  “Thanks for explaining.  I better get back now.”

“Sure.”  Shepard watched her leave, turning her quizzical gaze to Liara.

The asari shrugged.  “It’s been a rough few weeks for these people.  I’m glad we’re able to help.”

“For as much good as we’ve done so far.”  Shepard flipped back through the maps, frustrated.  Liara came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder. 

“We’ve done a lot,” she emphasized softly.  “If nothing else, taking over the defenses gave the colonists some relief.”

Shepard shrugged her off.  “It won’t mean anything if we can’t punch through to ExoGeni HQ.”

Liara might have continued pressing the point, but at that moment Lt. Alenko came through the hatch and saluted.  “Commander.”

“Report, Lieutenant.  What happened?”

Liara rolled her eyes and returned to her own terminal as Alenko started to speak.  “Nothing special.  Looks like a capacitor overloaded and blew out half the generator.”

“Not sabotage?” she inquired.

“No reason to think so.”  He took the seat across from her desk and leaned back in the chair, running a hand over his dirty hair.  The past week was wearing on them all.  The geth had no regard for human schedules, and the accommodations at Zhu’s Hope were minimal between the ongoing power problems and the water shortage.  They were lucky when the toilets worked.  Staples like daily showers were a fantasy.  “This equipment is _old_ , Commander.  ExoGeni bought it third hand, or so it looks, and the colonists have patched most of it with half-assed homemade repairs.  The whole company is nothing but a tech mill.  It should be illegal.”

“At least some of it probably is.”  It was a big galaxy, and the chunk of it flying Systems Alliance colors grew daily.  Technically, there were all sorts of laws about living conditions on colonial worlds, but in reality, they were difficult to enforce.  “How’d you get it back online?  I doubt anything from our stock would be compatible.”

Alenko grinned.  “If you wanted to fix an aging power system patched up with thirty different brands of hardware, and you’re us, who would you ask?”

She frowned for a moment, puzzled, then chuckled.  “Tali.  Of course.”

“She’s got it operating at about sixty percent capacity.  She thinks she might able to push it to sixty-five, maybe seventy with some time, but we’re cruising in the system’s afterlife now.  But that’s not the biggest problem.”

Shepard slouched back in her chair, groaning.  “Of course it’s not.”

“You remember Fai Dan briefing us on the water problem?”

Shepard nodded.  “They retrofitted pumps to Prothean aqueducts bringing down water from the mountains up north.  They’ve been erratic since the attack.”

“Right.  When the power cut out, they went offline.  Now we can’t even run diagnostics to try to work out the problem.  Doyle- the woman in charge of pumps- says they need manual restarts when this happens.”

“It’s happened before?”  Shepard shook her head.  “Nevermind.  So how long until we have the pumps back?”

“Well…”

Shepard buried her face in her hands.  “Alenko, I’m warning you.”

“Sorry, ma’am.  You’re not going to like it.”  He sighed.  “The pumps are down in the tunnels, way out into geth territory.”

“Alright.”  He was right; she wasn’t happy, but the situation wasn’t going to get any better for that.  She looked over at one of her crew.  “We’re going to have to ration the water.  Get an estimate of how much we have left, and put together a report for Fai Dan.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Alenko interrupted.  “Ma’am, with all due respect, that’s not going to work.  There’s no reservoir here.”

“Belay that.”  She looked back at the lieutenant.  “Then we’ll have to haul supplies back from the _Normandy_.”

“ _Normandy_ can’t supply an entire outpost by ferrying buckets.”  Alenko’s disbelief was almost comical.  “We don’t have a stock of pipes or pumps of our own.  And that’s assuming her H2O generators could keep up with demand, which I doubt.”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say.  You know the situation.  I can’t afford to send anyone to fix the pumps, and we’re not exactly the frigging Corps of Engineers anyway.”

“Water’s not a negotiable, Commander.”

She slapped the datapad on the desk.  For once, he didn’t wince, and for some reason that irritated her more than any of the rest of it.  “Damn it, don’t you think I know that?  If I send a detachment, the geth will make a serious attempt at taking Zhu’s Hope.  And it’s unlikely we’ll ever see those marines again, given how tightly the geth have this area locked down.”

Alenko folded his arms, stubborn to the last.  “People need water.  It’s basic biology.”

She returned his look levelly.  “These barricades need marines.  It’s basic mathematics.”

He studied the ceiling for several long minutes.  Shepard went back to her reports.  He seemed to be searching for another argument.  “My mother makes the best chocolate chip cookies you’ve ever had in your life.”

She threw down the data pad for a second time, flabbergasted and thoroughly annoyed.  “What the hell?”

“I’m just saying, these cookies are pretty much the best things you’ve ever put in your mouth.  She usually sends me a batch when I’m on deployment.”

Shepard raised her eyebrows.  “You’re what, thirty-two, and your mom still sends you care packages?”

“Says the woman who, I have on very good authority, got five pounds of chocolate from her dad the last time we were in port.”

“That’s different,” she replied with a measure of frost.  “That’s for making real hot chocolate, and it is statistically impossible to survive this kind of mission without hot chocolate. That is fact, lieutenant.”

Alenko was unconcerned.  “As you say, ma’am.  It was enough to tell me you’ve got a serious sweet tooth, and I will give you every last one of those cookies if you agree to let us just _try_ to turn on the pumps.”

Her laughter was incredulous.  “You’re attempting to bribe me now?”

“These aren’t marines,” he argued.  “Civilians don’t have the discipline to hold it together under the plan you’re recommending.  And without them, like it or not, this outpost is lost.”

She contemplated him for several minutes with narrowed eyes, long enough for him to wonder if he’d crossed a serious boundary.  But he held his silence, and didn’t shy from her evaluation. 

At last, she shook her head and pushed herself out of the chair.  “Fine.  We’re going to get those pumps back online.”

He let out a breath.  “Thank you, ma’am.”

Shepard whirled and jabbed a finger at him.  “And not because of your pastry blackmail.”

“Right.”  He paused.  “But you’re still keeping the cookies, aren’t you.”

“Hell yes.”  Shepard got Liara’s attention.  “I’m going to be off base for a little while.  I need you to keep everyone here working these maps.”

“Yes, Commander.”  There was a trace of worry in her voice, but by now she knew better than to express reservations once Shepard made up her mind.

Alenko, however, was surprised.  “Wait, you’re coming with?”

“Do you know anyone else on this crew who has any training in running a mission behind enemy lines?”  She raised an eyebrow at him. 

He glanced away.  Shepard leaned forward and tapped a few keys at the terminal.  “I can’t hear you, Lieutenant.”

Alenko only just managed to prevent an eye roll.  “No, Commander.”

“Me neither.”  She pulled up her collection of maps.  “Open a port on your omni-tool.  You’re going to need this surveillance.”

He did as she requested, and asked, “So who’s going to be left here?”

“Everyone but you and me, L.T.”  Shepard overrode his immediate objection.  “I wasn’t exaggerating.  We can’t afford to take anyone off the barricades, not now that Saren knows we’re here.  And taking a full squad only makes it more likely the geth will notice us, anyway.”

“I don’t follow, ma’am.”  Diplomatic code for _I disagree completely._

“You’re the one who wants the damn water back on so badly.”  She sighed.  “Look, after me, you’re the most experienced marine here.  This isn’t a training wheels exercise.  I can’t have a bunch of newbies fumbling around waiting to get shot up by flashlight heads.  Got it?”

 

For an instant it looked like he might take objection to her evaluation of his marines’ limitations, but he swallowed it.  “Yes, Commander.”

She nodded towards the hatch.  “Go give Williams her orders.  She’s got the deck, but tell her from me that if she doesn’t damn well listen to Wrex and Garrus when the time comes, I’ll have her commanding a desk back on Earth so fast her head will spin clear off.  Antarctic base.”

He shook his head at the overkill, but made no further complaint.  “Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

/\/\/\/\/\

The winding stairwell cut off the noise of the outpost within a few flights, the thick walls of the old ruin swallowing the human sounds behind them.  It made the footfalls of their hardsuit boots seem overly loud against the stairs.  Shepard was in full concentration mode now, every detail noted in her flow of awareness without the need for conscious involvement.  A portion of her brain was dedicated to monitoring the incoming information, leaving the rest of her free to think and plan.

Alenko was on edge, but doing a decent job of concealing it.  Her mouth curved up a bit.  _Good.  He should be worried._

They walked a little further, still within the safe zone, when Alenko cleared his throat.  He was usually comfortable with silence.  Maybe the circumstances- abandoned ruins falling down around them, geth waiting in the tunnels ahead- were affecting him more than she initially gauged. 

“At least we know where the pumps are,” he said, optimistically.

Shepard snorted, laughing quietly.  He was puzzled.  “What?”

“If we can get to the pumps along the route Doyle described, I won’t complain.”  She shrugged. “In my experience, that route will be blocked by hostiles.  We’re going to have to crawl through this mess until we find a back way.”

“Strange that they haven’t sabotaged the pumps before the power outage did it for them.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.  Maybe we’ve got it backwards.  Maybe sabotaging the pumps jolted the generator and caused it to break down somehow.”

“If that’s the case, for sure the pumps will be guarded.”

“Everything about this mission is strange.”  She frowned.  “They attacked mid-day, while the colonists of Zhu’s Hope were at their work.  That implies a high degree of confidence in the attack’s success.  Also, they have to know what sections of the ruins were in use because they had to clear them.  But they’re not pressing the advantage much.”

“Maybe Saren doesn’t want to kill off Zhu’s Hope for some reason.”

“A few other things indicate that might be the case.”  Shepard hesitated, but decided there was no harm in sharing her thoughts.  Alenko wasn’t the type to misconstrue speculation as fact.  “I thought at first he might be trying to distract us, trap us, but what if it’s not about us?  Maybe there’s something Zhu’s Hope he wants, something he thinks he can’t get if he destroys the outpost.  If he was willing to kill thousands on Eden Prime why hesitate to kill a few dozen here?”

“That’s… a troubling thought.”  He made a slight sound of incredulity.  “I just wish it didn’t make a certain amount of sense.”

They continued on.  Shepard coordinated their position to the maps stored in her omni-tool.  With the thick walls blocking most signal transmissions, it traced their route by footsteps rather than triangulation, and she suspected it would not be long before the readings became entirely inaccurate.  The pair emerged on the fourth level of the ruins, and Shepard crept to a window without any glass and cautiously looked over the sill.

Alenko opened his mouth.  She put a finger to her lips, quieting him, and leaned out a little further.  The ceiling of the lower level below had collapsed in places.  Through the gaps, pools of light illuminated the rubble, bobbing gently as their owners patrolled.  Shepard watched them stalk around, getting an idea of their numbers.  Very quietly, she asked, “Have you ever done anything like this?”

He joined her at the window, similarly cautious, keeping his voice just as low.  “Once.  Elysium.”

“You were in the Blitz?”

“Second wave of reinforcements,” he affirmed.  “They dropped us in one of the outlying towns with few instructions beyond ‘clear it out’.  Let me guess, you were first wave?”

“Even better.”  A lopsided smile appeared at her mouth as she continued observing the geth.  “I’d been tracking a mercenary cell in the Terminus for two months with Hegemony ties.  Followed them there.  My partner and I could’ve used IES- we were shot down outside of Illyria and made our way into the capitol on foot.”

“Must’ve been a hell of a fight.”

“I like to think we helped out some.  The Alliance got him a pardon for what drove him into the Terminus in the first place, anyway.”  Shepard grimaced.  “Naturally, I only got a reprimand for misuse of resources in spending mission funds to hire a mercenary.”

“On the other hand, they made you a spectre because you do anything it takes to get the job done.  So it seems like that worked out for you.”

“Not anything.”  She drew back a little further from the window.  “I count six or seven hostiles.  You?”

“Same.”  He checked his pistol.  “And you were right- they’re on the main route to the pumps.  How do you want to do this?”

Shepard studied her maps.  “I think if we continue along this level, we can bypass that corridor.”

Alenko peered over her shoulder.  “You may be right.”

The guidance provided by their omni-tools soon fizzled, as Shepard predicted, and a fallen floor forced them two levels down into the ruins.  These tunnels weren’t rigged with colony lighting.  All they had to go by was the inadequate illumination of their gun-mounted flashlights and leaks of grimy sunshine from the very occasional gaps leading to the surface.  There was a steady drip of water from somewhere in the distance, echoing along the walls, but otherwise the only sounds were their own movements and breathing. 

Shepard took point, prowling through the debris with all senses open, ignoring the near-useless ladar.  Alenko monitored their rear; every offshoot corridor they passed represented an accepted risk.  Tali got only garbage from the memory cores of the geth killed in the continuous assaults on Zhu’s Hope, leaving the location of geth fallbacks or outposts a complete mystery.  Reinforcements could come from anywhere.

It wasn’t a sound or a flash of light that caused Shepard to pause mid-step.  Alenko’s wordless query was answered by pointing at the ground.  Here, the customary rubble and mold from the leaking water was pushed back towards the walls, recently disturbed.  She signaled for him to hold position and moved up, crouching, using the high piles of fallen stone for cover. 

The recon didn’t take long.  Shepard returned holding up two fingers, and pointed forward, mouthing the word, _Distraction?_

The look he gave her was almost amused, and he moved up ahead.  Shepard followed close behind with her rifle at the ready.

As the geth came into view, Alenko took up position against the wall, shifted his pistol to his left hand, and threw out his right in a sweeping motion along the ground.  There was a faint buzzing in her head as the dim lines of blue light raced over the floor, the dark energy wave throwing off radiation where it interacted with the atoms of the atmosphere.  She’d never noticed the noise before; she guessed she was never in a position to pay close attention.

Somewhat to her surprise, the attack was not aimed at the geth.  Instead, an entire pile of debris launched into the air, flying at the two hostile targets like a blizzard of stone.  It clattered against their metal bodies and drove them back, guns waving in the air as they tried to swat away the rocks.

Shepard didn’t need to give the order.  As soon at the geth moved, the two marines opened fire.  By the time the geth realized what was happening it was all but over.  In the aftermath, one attempted to fire from the ground as Shepard approached, but its arm was damaged and the shot went wide.  She wasted little time putting two slugs into its flashlight head.  “Clear.”

Alenko lowered his pistol but did not put it away.  “That was easier than I expected.  Those things put up a hell of a fight.”

“Usually, yeah.”  Her gun slipped into its holster as she squatted beside the geth, flipping it onto its back.  There was nothing special about the unit.  Sometimes, they were simply lucky.  Shepard looked up, chuckling a bit, and shook her head.  “It’s childish, but I never get tired of watching that.”

“Watching what?”

She gestured at the scattered stone.  “The lightshow.”

Alenko went slightly pink.  “Not the reaction I usually get.  Ma’am.”

Shepard seemed not to notice, sitting back on her heels.  “Don’t know why.  The things I could do if I had your talents...  I can think of a lot of uses for that stuff.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”  He paused.  “There’s nothing wrong with being an ordinary marine.”

Her sidelong glance showed more than a hint of amusement.  “You think I’m ordinary?”

His face became redder.  “No ma’am.  I just meant, you know, non-biotic.”

“I doubt very much you would have been ordinary even without the help of a transport crash.”  She straightened, dusting off her hands.  “Alright.  Let’s keep moving.  We should be somewhere east of the pumps.”

It was slow going, given every hallway seemed to run either west or south, but gradually they crept closer to the room Doyle indicated, near the bottom level of the complex.  The Protheans, unlike the Romans, preferred to bury their aqueducts to protect them from most natural sources of damage.  That was one reason the system still worked after fifty thousand years.  According to Doyle, some light repair, power, and a system flush to clear out blockages was all that was required when they first occupied Feros.

About an hour after finding the geth patrol and clearing a few other patches of resistance without much hassle, they emerged onto a rooftop balcony.  The Protheans of Feros had a taste for dramatizing their architecture with terraces.  Shepard wondered if that was why there were apartments climbing all the way up the curved sides of the Presidium like hanging plants.  From up here, the ancient urban sprawl of Feros was on full display; she could almost get a sense of neighborhoods and flight paths for vehicles, if she closed one eye and squinted a bit.  The planet was clearly trying to take back its own; huge swaths of the city were covered over by blown dirt and occasional greenery.

Alenko was too focused on their predicament to take in the view.  “Dead end.  Damn it.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”  Shepard took a look over the edge of the terrace. The half-wall intended to keep the long departed residents from falling was mostly eroded by the march of centuries.  She tested the drop off with her foot.  Some of the material crumbled away, free-falling to the next roof far below.  Shepard didn’t hear it hit.  “How do you feel about heights, L.T.?”

His expression was incredulous.  “I live on a spaceship, ma’am.  Vertigo would make that a little complicated.”

“It’s happened before,” she said mildly.

“I don’t have a problem with heights.”

Shepard balanced close to the edge, her arms folded over her knees as she considered their options. 

Alenko came up behind her.  “Commander?”

“I am tired of getting lost like a rat in a maze.”  She gestured over the rooftops.  “This, however, is as clear as a roadmap.”

He leaned out over the edge and swallowed, once.  “So how do we get down?  No offense, ma’am, but this isn’t a sheer wall.  The terrace is overhanging the level below.”

“I know.”

“Unfortunately, my short-lived second career as an extreme mountaineer took a dive when I busted up my knee in a tragic ice pick incident.”

She raised an eyebrow at him.  “There’s no need to get sarcastic.  It’s not like I can do it either, at least not free climbing.”

His look of instant suspicion made her burst into laughter.  “God, you people really do believe I can do anything.  No, we’re going to need some help here.”

She started circling the edge of the terrace, looking for any route that was slightly more graceful than navigating a ninety degree upside down turn.  Alenko caught on and began canvassing the other half.  “You have to admit, it’s not that much of a stretch to imagine you scaling the Andes in your free time.”

“Pfft.  I’m not much of an Earth girl.” 

“Maybe you just haven’t seen it properly yet.”

“I’ve seen enough.”  She wrinkled her nose, and lay down on the terrace to stick her head over the side, checking for handholds.  Shepard raised her voice slightly to be heard over the ledge.  “You’ve got all that… weather.”

He made a slightly strangled noise, like he was trying not to laugh.  “A little rain never killed anyone.”

Nothing under the terrace offered much to hang onto.  She pushed herself back.  “A little rain kills people all the time.  It’s called flooding.”

He tested a crenellation only to have it shatter as soon as it took the slightest weight.  “I’m not talking about flooding.  I’m talking about a… a warm steady shower, walking downtown in the middle of summer with an umbrella, no real place to go.  Just taking it in.  It can be sorta nice.”

She grinned.  “You offering to be my tour guide, Alenko?”

“You showed me Hellas Basin.  Why not?”  He returned her smile.  “C’mon, ma’am, it’s the cradle of humanity.  You can’t just write it off like that.”

 “I do appreciate Earth- for enabling us to build proper civilized spaces to live, up in orbit.”  Finding nothing of use on the terrace, she retreated to the hallway, hoping to uncover a shaft or stairwell off of the main chamber. 

“The canned air and stale food never gets old?”

“The food’s not stale,” she scoffed.  “It’s… well-preserved.”  She clicked on her flashlight and peered into a shrouded side room.

Alenko let the remark pass and followed her inside.  “Nothing on my end.  You?”

“Take a look at this.”  Her fingers brushed over a myriad of cracks in the wall, stark beneath the harsh white light of the flashlight.  “Feel that?”

He squatted down to get a better look and extended his hand.  “Feels like air.”

“Fifty thousand years.  It’s a wonder this place is still standing.”  She stood up, took a step back, and kicked her boot into the center of the cracking.  The wall bowed out. 

Alenko scurried out of the way.  Shepard gave it another kick, and then another, and soon patches of gray sky appeared.  A few more solid blows and the opening was wide enough to crawl through.  Shepard stuck her head out, and smiled.

Ducking back inside, she made an about face and started crawling out.  Alenko grabbed her arm.  “Commander, we’ll be sitting ducks for the geth against the wall.”

She blew a stray lock of hair off her face.  Between the sweat induced by the stifling heat and crawling through the dust of these ruins, she likely resembled a rather large moth.  “There are no geth in visual or ladar range.  There are intermittent gaps the whole way down to use as cover if needed.  And besides, I like the idea of dropping in our mechanical friends unannounced.”

His mouth thinned into a line and that same little crease turned up in his brow, the one that put in an appearance whenever he was thinking deeply or worried.  She patted his foot.  “Relax.  This is going to be fun.”

And with that, she slipped out the gap in the wall and started climbing down to the roof.

It was a demanding climb, but she’d faced worse.  Between the ongoing erosion and the original decorations, there were plenty of handholds, provided they tested them first.  From the amount of stone showering her hair and shoulders, however, Alenko was having a harder time of it.  More than one handhold crumbled under his grip.  She glanced up a few times to make sure he was getting along ok, but stopped when she realized she was spending more time watching his ass than watching him.  The angle of view was extremely distracting.

In the wake of her disastrous mission to batarian space a little over a year past, in a vain attempt to get her life in order, Shepard had sworn off a number of vices ranging from meat to casual sex.  Some of those decisions were working out better than others. 

She shook her head to clear her scattered thoughts and continued her descent.

Once they hit the roof, it was a simple matter to locate the pump room.  Twenty minutes of walking, combined with a little climbing over assorted obstacles, brought them within striking distance.  Shepard paused and lay down on the roof, her omni-tool between her ear and the deck.

Very little noise met her ears.  Just the creaking and sighing of the old stonework.  Alenko crouched nearby, omni-tool activated, his fingers dancing across its controls.  Catching her look, he held out his arm so she could see what he found- a mishmash of electronic signals, streaming from somewhere nearby.  She almost had to laugh.  Geth might be quite “silent” at their posts, but clearly on other frequencies they were as chatty as a gaggle of schoolchildren.  The feed was entirely encrypted, not that it mattered much.  They’d found their target.

She pulled out her map one final time to confirm.  Up on the roof, it was far easier to make the colonists’ maps, the _Normandy_ orbital footage, and their own position line up.  The room housing the water pumps should be almost directly below them.

There was a hole in the ceiling not far from the pump room.  It was a ten foot drop to the floor- easy after their climb.  They fell into pitch darkness, with the soft pulse of water the only sound of note.  Shepard drew her rifle and spoke in tones just shy of inaudible.  “Lieutenant, what happens when the pumps stop working?”

He replied in a similar undertone.  “The system overflows to a cistern.”

“Right.  Watch your step.”  She didn’t want to risk a light, not with the geth so near.  The blackness lost its velvety quality the further they moved from their entrance, becoming flat and cold, true blindness.  Their breath, the crunching of their boots, the slight electronic protests of their weapons as grips shifted, and the thudding of her own blood took on lives of their own.  She thought they were getting closer to the cistern by the lapping of the water against the stone.

They turned a corner and Shepard suddenly stretched her arm out to the side.  Alenko walked right into it with a small grunt of surprise.  “What-“

“Bigger room.”  She crouched and felt along the ground in front of her, pushing small stones out of the way of her fingers. 

She heard him shift his weight, his armor creaking, and the brush of air against her neck told her he’d swept his arms up.  Guard position. 

“How can you tell?” he asked.

“The quality of the sound changed.  More echoing.”  She gave up and flicked on her flashlight.  Their noises already gave away their position.  Not a half meter from where they stood, the walkway dropped off into a broad pool of water that stretched further than Shepard’s light could reach.  “Damn.”

Alenko also turned on his light.  “You can say that again.  There’s got to be a couple hundred thousand liters here if there’s a drop.”

She shined her light down into the water.  The pool was reasonably clear, but the bottom remained shrouded in darkness.  The ceiling brooded far above them.  The two marines began making their way around the chamber, moving cautiously with weapons at the ready as they searched for an exit.

Suddenly, Alenko swung his pistol around, sighting on something unseen across the water.  “Movement.”

“Cover me.”  Shepard moved towards the spot.  Gradually, her flashlight illuminated a small jetty of sorts, a metal pier retrofitted by the colonists jutting out into the cistern.  On the end of it sat a man, maybe thirty years old, with his arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth.  As the light fell on him, he began to hum loudly, half-singing under his breath.

She exchanged a glance with her lieutenant before approaching the stranger with all due precaution.  “I’m Commander Shepard.  Who are you?”

His head snapped over his shoulder.  Two beady green eyes fixed her with a piercing stare, pupils reduced to pinpricks in the sudden illumination of her flashlight.  “I’m not going back!”

His voice was more hiss than human.  Shepard held her ground.  Her gun was pointed just shy of horizontal- enough to indicate peaceful intent, not enough to make it difficult to aim in a hurry.  “I don’t care where you go.  I asked who you are.”

“Ian.”  He twitched, like he’d gotten a jolt from a live wire.  “You’re not one of them.  Not one of its play- ARRRGH!”

He clutched his head as his entire body spasmed, driving him dangerously near the water.  The scream echoed off the cistern walls.  Alarmed, Shepard took a step forward.  “Shut up!  There’s geth crawling all over these tunnels.”

He took a shuddering breath, and coughed wetly, rolling over onto all fours.  “I know.  I can feel them.  They’re like a cancer.”

Shepard stole a glance at Alenko, who was dividing his attention between her conversation and the entrance.  He was less unnerved than she feared.  Her eyes slid back to Ian.  “What do you mean, you can feel them?”

“They’re a thorn in the side of the-“  He was interrupted by another scream.  It was almost like some kind of seizure. 

She risked another few steps.  “Are you ok?”

Ian started to laugh, a fluid-choked chuckle that sounded more than a little forced.  “No.  No, it’s good. Pure.  The pain is a reminder.”

“A reminder of what?”  At this point, she cared less about what was wrong with him than how to best quiet him humanely before he brought every hostile in this rat maze down on their heads.  If she kept him talking, maybe she could get close enough…

His smile was haunting in the pale ring of light.  “That I’m still free.”

“Shepard!”  Alenko’s voice was sharp, distracting her from Ian.  He had his ladar up on his omni-tool.  A whole swarm of returns were converging on their location.

“Shit.  Lights!”  They clicked their flashlights off, plunging them into darkness. 

She heard Alenko shuffle closer to her position.  “Orders?”

Shepard shut her eyes, recalling the known terrain, and how dark it’d been in the center of the pool even with light.  There was no telling where the walkway around the cistern came out, if it came out anywhere, and there was no time to think.  “Can you swim in a hardsuit?”

Despite the circumstances, he responded with a dry chuckle.  “Don’t know.  Haven’t tried since basic.”

“Time for a refresher.”  She nodded towards the water, though neither man could see her.  “I’ve got our friend.  Go!”

They plunged into the cistern, Shepard grabbing Ian under his shoulders as her feet left the platform. 

The water was tepid, below body temperature, and it felt of slime and stunk of stagnation.  She wished there was a way to seal off her nose entirely.  Ian coughed and sputtered as she managed to drag his head clear of the surface.  The cistern wasn’t too deep, maybe three or four meters, just enough to drown in it if you were unlucky.  She managed to get herself around the struggling man so as to functionally immobilize his arms and paddled backwards, away from the sound of their splash.  He at least had the sense to stay quiet.  Shepard thought she could hear Alenko treading water nearby, but it was impossible to be certain.

There was shuffling at the door.  Too many metal feet to make anyone comfortable tromped along the path.  Shepard quietly moved out towards the center of the cistern.  Her hardsuit was designed for vacuum operation and sealed her in like a thermos from the neck down.  Ian, however, would stand out bright as day on an infrared scan.  She kept as much of him below the surface of the water as she could, to mask his heat with its relative chill.  Ladar was less troubling.  If they couldn’t see the chamber, they had no way of knowing if a given ping was a target or merely another piece of drifting debris.

Shepard held her breath as the flashlights on shore turned towards their location.  She couldn’t make out the geth sporting them, and hoped it was a good sign. 

She should have been afraid.  That was the appropriate response, the understandable one.  Instead she was… exhilarated, waiting in the dark, holding her breath, balanced on the edge of a cliff and waiting to see if the wind would blow her over.  It was better than driving, and it was better than drugs.  It was better than sex.  And about as deadly in the long run as all three put together.

_They’re not leaving._ Across the cistern, a lengthy debate must have been taking place over the airwaves.  How long could it possibly take for a machine to make a decision?  _Maybe they’re waiting for orders._

She was preparing to fling herself under the water, if necessary, when there was a sudden explosion from down the hall where they entered.  Immediately, as one body, the geth fled towards the noise. 

Shepard wasted no time making for the pier.  She shoved Ian up onto the platform, where he lay choking and gasping, before hauling herself up after and snapping on her flashlight.  She offered an arm to Alenko to drag him out.  “What the hell was that?  It sounded like an Alliance munition.”

“It was.”  He swallowed a few lungfuls of air, crouched and dripping on the floor.  “Grenade.”

She blinked at him. “How the fuck did you throw it like that in the dark?”

“I didn’t.  I floated it under the water and brought it up where I thought the entrance was.  Got a little lucky there.”  Alenko shook his head.  “I never thought years of pushing cups and pencils around biotically would come in handy.”

“Nice work.  It’s not going to last.”  She swung the light around.  “There.  Another hatch.”  Shepard jerked her head towards Ian.  “Grab him.”

Her rifle reappeared in her hands as she made for the exit, Alenko and Ian stumbling behind her.  She braced herself against the wall and checked the next corridor.  “Clear!”

They slipped through it, and Shepard bolted the hatch behind them.  She snapped her fingers in front of Ian’s face.  “Ian.”

His head lolled.  “And they said I was nuts.”

“Ian, we need to know what’s going on here,” she said urgently.  “The geth want something.  This attack isn’t random.  What is it?”

“I- aaarrrrgh!”

“What’s doing this to you?  Why can’t you talk about it?”

“You don’t understand.  I like talking about it.”  He giggled, like a small child, his dark hair dripping water onto his face.  “It’s like- it’s like running through a thorn bush, see, the faster you run the more the thorns grab you and try to hold you in place, but at least you’re trying.”

Alenko glanced at her.  “Someone’s conditioned him to feel pain in association with this topic.  I’ve read about it, but never seen it work so severely.”

She tried a different tact.  “Was it something ExoGeni found, here in the colony?  A Prothean relic?”

“ExoGeni!”  He spat, coughing.  “Bastards.  Betrayed us, just like your precious Systems Alliance.”

Her eyes strayed down the dark length of the hall, all too aware that the geth knew these tunnels, and she did not.  “How did ExoGeni betray you, Ian?”

“They gave us-“  He was forced to pause again as his whole body seized with pain, ending in another haunting chuckle.  Ian wiped the spittle from his lips.  “Lizbeth tried to help.  But that’s not what it wants.  She knew better than to give it what it _wants_.”

The hair stood up on the back of her neck.  “What does it want?”

He descended into mumbling, frequented by muscle spasms as his brainwashing administered its discipline.  Shepard rubbed her forehead, frustrated.

Alenko was looking over his shoulder at the locked hatch.  “What now?  We can’t just leave him like this.”

Ian’s head shot up.  His eyes blazed.  “You can’t make me go back!”

“The colony can give you the help you need,” Shepard reasoned, attempting to soothe.  “You can see Lizbeth.  Alright?”

“They have… Lizbeth?”  For a moment he sagged, but then he started, shaking himself free of Alenko’s grip with considerable force.  “No.  No!  You lie!  ExoGeni would never allow it!”

And with that, he took off down the hall, his bare feet slapping against the concrete and his wordless cries echoing off the walls.  Shepard tried to snag him as he ran by, but his wet arm twisted out of her hand.  “What the hell?”

“He’s lost it.  Sad, but nothing we can do but let Fai Dan know.”  Alenko took a deep, steadying breath.  “We still have to find those pumps.  We should be close.”

Shepard brought up her omni-tool one last time.  “North of here.”  She glanced up.  “Tunnel runs north.  Let’s go.”

They pushed forward through the dark, the long length of the hallway falling swiftly behind them.  Shepard was confident that if the geth breached the hatch they left sealed, it would not happen in silence, but her shoulders still itched as though a target was painted between them until they turned a few corners. 

Water rolled down from her soaked hair and pooled at the collar of her hardsuit.  Her teeth grated in irritation.  She hated getting her hair wet while it was up- it was so heavy and it stayed that way for days.  Shepard scraped the scraggles off her forehead and signaled a stop.  Then she dropped into a crouch and peered around the corner.

The narrow room was filled with geth.  A large pipe illuminated faintly by a pair of terminals ran along one wall.  Shepard withdrew, rapidly, and answered Alenko’s questioning look with a grimace and a handful of signals.  _Target ahead.  Many hostiles._

His answering grimace said he understood.  Shepard sat up against the wall and began checking over her weaponry.  In theory, her equipment was immune to water damage, but she didn’t fancy charging into a dicey situation after a dunking without being sure.  Everything appeared in order; the workings were dry and unfolded easily, her chosen modifications still activated. 

Beside her, Alenko simply drew his pistol and then stared into space as he waited, his mouth a thin line in the almost-dark.  She hoped he was ready for it.  They were outnumbered, and to some degree outmatched by the geth’s sensors, but they retained the advantage of surprise- and when it came to fighting in the dark, Shepard would put human adaptability up against hardwired AI logic any day.

She touched his shoulder to get his attention, and indicated she would move up first.  Her boots shuffled against the concrete, nearly as noiseless as the machines themselves, and she took up position behind another pipe jutting out from the left wall.  Alenko took cover around the corner, took a deep breath, and gave her a nod.  _Ready._

Shepard unclipped three grenades from her belt and rolled the lot of them towards the far wall.  The geth had only just started to turn towards the clatter when they exploded.

She didn’t wait for the smoke to clear, setting her assault rifle atop the metal pipe and firing in short, sweeping blasts into the confusion.  With nothing to see there was nowhere to aim, but she wasn’t about to let a pesky detail like that stop her, not when there were at least a dozen geth to their two marines.  With luck, her fire would keep them confused, bottled up.

There was no pistol counterpoint.  She stole a glance behind her, to find her lieutenant entirely in cover, with only the orange glow of his omni-tool to explain his plan, whatever it was.  She remembered how he took out the geth stealth unit’s shield generator on Therum, and decided to trust him.  Not like she had much choice, anyway.  In the second she’d stopped firing to evaluate, the geth already began to press forward.

Her finger held and released the trigger methodically.  Shepard was as proficient with technology as anyone raised in her age, but that was as far as it went.  She had no patience for fiddly things.  Shepard aimed at a light emerging from the cloud of dust and heard a geth collapse onto the floor. 

They were coming faster now as the chaos of the grenade strike faded.  She was forced to spend more and more time in cover.  One of the machines drew even with her position, along the aqueduct across the room, and she shot out its knees.  “Better speed it up, L.T.!”

“Roger that,” he muttered, and entered a final command.  “Got it!”

Shepard ducked behind the pipe and pulled out her own pistol, the heat sink on her rifle failing under the demand.  “Got what?”

There was some rapid, disbelieving cursing from around the corner.  “It should have- they must’ve learned from the others-“

“I don’t give a fuck!”  Shepard moved the pistol seamlessly, hardly stopping to aim at the advancing geth.  Each shot found a target, but it took more than one to take a unit down, and if she focused fire the others would lose their caution.  “Pick up that damn gun of yours!”

There was no panic in her voice, only steel, though the situation gave them plenty of cause.  Shepard knew how to enforce an order by her tone.  It wasn’t more than a second before his fire joined hers.

She switched back to her cooled assault rifle, and tried to think with any part of her mind not preoccupied fighting for their lives.  The room was small, the geth’s defensive fire was dense and they were rapidly running out of time.  She needed a new idea.

Her eyes settled on the aqueduct.  “Cover me!”

Shepard threw herself into a roll that crossed the small space and landed her next to the pump controls installed by the colonials.  They were entirely offline.  No help there.  Her shield chirped a warning as it absorbed three bullets in rapid succession.  There was little cover to be had on this half of the room.

_Well, that’s what the armor’s for_.  A touch of amusement crossed her face as she struggled against the rust of the relief valve.

The shield failed.  Luckily, between the crowding and the debris, the geth were not particularly good shots.  The few that hit, however, were enough to nearly knock her off balance.  She had to shake her head.  “Going to need a lot of repair when this is over.”

“What, ma’am?” Alenko yelled from across the room, where he took up station at her old post.

“Retreat!” she called as the valve finally gave way, flooding the far end of the room with a gush of water as strong as a firehose.  Her hand fumbled under the console until she located the thick bundle of electrical cabling, running all the way from here to Zhu’s hope, and gave it a solid yank before fleeing the room herself.

They ran past the doorway and around the corner, down the hallway to the nearest hatch, maybe thirty paces, when Shepard turned and pressed herself against the wall.  Alenko copied her, but not without anxiety.  “Commander-“

“Shh.  Wait.”  She kept her eyes- and her gun- fixed down the corridor.

“We’re right out in the open-“

“Wait.”  Shepard was perfectly calm.

A few seconds later, there came a titanic boom followed by a cascade of loud crackling sounds, hissing and spitting like sparklers on a holiday.  A shower of light flowed around the corner in flickering bursts, accompanied by electronic garbage, followed by silence.

Shepard allowed herself a small smile.  “Come on.”

They found the remaining geth lying limbs askew in the ever-spreading puddle of water.  The bundle of wires shuddered and danced in the wet.  Here and there, a machine twitched. 

She raised her gun, studiously avoided the slow wave flowing towards their boots, and nodded to the cable.  “Can you lift that out?  Without touching anything?”

It took Alenko a moment to draw his attention away from the field of fallen geth to the cabling.  “Yes.”

“Good.”  She fired several rounds into each of the twitching machines, then radioed back a report, requesting the power be cut to the pumps until they could secure the situation.

Some minutes later, Alenko was running his thumb over the torn wiring, shaking his head.  “Good grief.”

Shepard perched cross-legged on the pipe opposite the now-useless terminal, with her gun laid across her lap and an air of smugness.  “Can you fix it?”

He muttered something that sounded rather unkind.  Shepard’s smile grew slightly wider.  “I can’t hear you, Lieutenant.”

“How in the hell did you know they wouldn’t be insulated, anyway?”

“Of course they were insulated,” she said, affronted.  “Hell, so are we.  But soaking wet?  They didn’t search the water back at the cistern.  I doubt it was because they were worried about drowning.”

“Big risk.”

“I didn’t see you thinking up anything better,” she said mildly.  “Anyway, _can_ you fix it?”

“It’s going to take a while.  I need to call Tali.  And Doyle.”  The look he gave her was utterly exasperated.  “You are much better at destroying this stuff than using it.  Err, Commander.  Ma’am.”

“When you’re a woman of a singular talent you learn to make do.”

The repair took hours.  Fortunately, they’d either routed all the geth in the immediate area, or the machines had lost their taste for confrontation today.  Shepard spent most of it putzing around and demanding updates on the search for Saren while Tali and Doyle argued over the best method to repair the terminal and walked Alenko through the procedures.  At last, however, the pumps roared back into life and the terminal showed all systems green.

Their walk back to Zhu’s Hope was triumphant, as they emerged from the maze of tunnels coated head to toe in dust and dirt, rendering them almost unrecognizable.  They sauntered towards the barricade, where a mix of confused marines and colonists peered up at them from behind the crates. 

“Stand down,” Shepard called out, her tone easy. 

They glanced nervously towards their rear.  Williams stood and squinted at them.  “Commander?  L.T.?”

“Did I stutter, Chief?”

“No, ma’am!”  Williams glared at the people around her.  “You heard the Commander!  What are you waiting for?”

Gradually, the guns lowered and two of the marines dragged back the barricade barring entry to the outpost.  Williams was still staring at them slack-jawed.  “You’ve been gone for ages.”

“Long story.”  Shepard flashed her a smile, her teeth bright in her grime-coated face.  “But first I need a shower.  I want a piece of this water I spent all day turning on.”

She turned towards the hab, but before she could take another step, a short woman like a blonde bullet shot towards her and landed a solid right hook on her jaw.

Shepard staggered back, caught by surprise, but it wasn’t her first fist-fight.  She blocked the next blow as it was coming and twisted the arm behind her assailant’s back, just shy of breaking.  “What the hell?”

Greta Reynolds attempted to struggle free, but went still as she felt the strain in her arm.  Her face, white with rage, took on a slight tinge of fear as well. 

“Let me go,” she snarled.  “You army bitch, you’ve done enough harm-“

“Greta!”  Her husband Davin was not far behind, and Fai Dan dogged his footsteps.  “It’s not her fault.”

“The hell it isn’t!”  Greta jerked again, seeming not to care if her arm did snap.  Shepard was forced to loosen her grasp a fraction.

“Please release her, Commander,” Fai Dan requested, maintaining his calm.  “You have my word, she will not assault you again.  Will you, Greta?”

The woman snarled again, wordlessly, but gave a curt nod.

Shepard shoved her away, where she was caught by her husband.  “Would somebody like to tell me what the hell this is about?”

Davin wrapped his arms around his wife, seemingly as much to keep her still as to offer comfort.  “It’s Darcy.  She’s gone.”

Shepard blinked.  “Gone?”

“She left this.”  Fai Dan handed her a datapad.  “It would seem our Darcy has decided to go after her young man, trapped at ExoGeni headquarters.”

Shepard scanned the letter, her eyes growing wider at every line.  “What in blazes was she thinking?  Those tunnels are crawling with geth.”

Fai Dan gave a delicate cough.  “There is some indication that she believed that it was what you would do.”

“I never told her-“  Her eyes flicked over Darcy’s words, earnest as only a teenager could be, and as foolish.  “God, but this is a special kind of stupid.”

“Don’t you start!”  Greta’s eyes blazed.  “Your grunts are the ones who fed her all those stories, about the people you’ve saved!  She never would have-“

“Greta,” Davin interrupted again, trying to calm her.  “This isn’t helping us get her back.”

Shepard lifted her gaze from the datapad.  “’Get her back’?”

Fai Dan folded his hands mildly.  “Yes, Commander.  We are eager to hear your plan.”

“My plan?”  Shepard was at a total loss.  She glanced from Williams to Alenko, and saw the same thought written on their faces- the tunnels were endless, and the odds of being able to find Darcy, let alone find her alive, were vanishingly small.

She licked her lips and tried for some diplomacy.  “I understand this is difficult, but our resources are already scarce-“

“You _understand_?”  Greta spat.  “Understand this, _Commander_.  You are going to find my little girl, or so help me God I will kill you myself, if it’s the last thing I ever do.”


	24. The First Lie

_We do not antagonize civilians.  We do not antagonize civilians._

Shepard took a deep breath and looked up into Greta Reynolds’ blazing eyes.  _We do not **strike** civilians._

Fai Dan drifted a few steps to his left, subtly inserting himself between the two women.  “Please.  There is no need for threats.”

Alenko, likewise, took a step closer to Shepard, and glanced around uneasily at the marines and colonists manning the barricade, who were beginning to rumble.  “Commander, maybe we should discuss this somewhere else.”

“I’m getting a shower,” she said abruptly.  “I need to think.  We can talk about the situation after.”

Before anyone could raise an objection, she turned on her heel and stalked towards the hab, dust drifting off her with every step. 

The water had no time to get hot, but given the climate on this part of Feros, she wasn’t bothered.  Shepard stood under the cold stream for the better part of ten minutes, not reaching for the soap, trying to reign in her jumble of emotions and kick her tired brain into action.  _Dammit.  This is NOT my fault.  I never told that girl to do anything.  Greta’s fear is making her stupid, that’s all._

But there was more than a little guilt edging the thought, irrational or not.  Ash’s admonitions came drifting back.  _It doesn’t matter if you asked.  You’re still a hero to a lot of people.  They look up to you._

_And this is why they damn well shouldn’t._ What the hell did Darcy think she would accomplish besides getting herself killed?  Even assuming one teenaged girl could make it past god knew how many geth recon patrols, nobody knew how to navigate the tunnels to get to ExoGeni HQ.  At absolute best, Darcy would wind up lost and starving in the maze that was the Prothean ruins.  Did she even have the wits to take a weapon with her, or water?

There was no way of guessing which way Darcy went, even if Shepard was inclined to send a rescue team.  They’d have to get half the people here sweeping the tunnels to have a chance of finding her.  Meanwhile, the geth would overrun Zhu’s Hope and accomplish whatever it was Saren was after.  It was frustrating to still have no clear idea, even after a week on the ground. 

Shepard looked up into the falling water.  _How could anyone be so stupid?_

And then she paused, because while Darcy was a lot of things, among them young, self-centered, and naive, she wasn’t a fool.  She wouldn’t have done this without some kind of plan.  _Her parents hate her boyfriend, and they live on opposite ends of the colony.  Davin heads up logistics for the spaceport, which means most of the people working the supply runs answer to him.  It’s damn unlikely his daughter was hitching a ride in the shuttles to visit._

She held her breath, ran the tip of her tongue over her lips.  _It could have been an extranet romance.  Or they could have found another way to meet._

Darcy knew the gravity of the situation.  They’d only asked the colonists a hundred times if they knew how to cross on foot.  Surely, if she had any idea…

_She’s sixteen.  She thought her parents would be furious._ Shepard grimaced.  _Worse, she thought she’d lose her only means of seeing her boyfriend._

The story felt right.  No choice, either way.  They were at an impasse and it was unlikely any new information would be gleaned from additional study.  That left only the undesirable option of disabling the AA guns with an orbital strike that would destroy much of what was left of the Feros colony, as well as endanger the _Normandy_.  If there was any chance, any at all, that Darcy knew of a route to HQ, Shepard needed to find her.

Her fingers worked through her hair, making certain she removed the last of the macroscopic dirt, before turning off the water.  There was no point to soap if she was headed back into the ruins.  She dried off as best she could, pinned her hair back up in its Alliance-approved bun, and strapped on her armor. 

The family was where she left them.  Greta was pacing, hugging herself, her expression now a cold mask.  Davin was leaning against a barricade, staring out into the tunnels.  Fai Dan had recruited Martinez, and they were talking quietly, going silent as Shepard approached.

She ignored them all and focused on Fai Dan.  “I need something to work with if you want to go after her.  Do you know where she might have started, trying to get to HQ?”

He was quiet almost a full minute.  There was something going on behind his eyes that Shepard couldn’t read.  Almost like a struggle.  It both disturbed and intrigued her. 

At last, he said, almost forcefully, “She hasn’t gone far.”

“You mean, you think she hasn’t gone far.”

He kept going as if he hadn’t heard her.  “She would have gone through the basement tunnels… I can…”  Fai Dan winced, once, and cleared his throat.  “It would be best if I accompanied you.”

Before she could respond, a new piece of strangeness interrupted.  At once, both of the Reynolds along with Martinez began protesting.  “You can’t leave.  It’s too dangerous.”

“You’re too important to this colony.”

“It won’t-“ Davin cut himself off as a spasm shook his body, leaving him ashen-faced.

Shepard looked from one person to the next, her brow knitted.  “This is your daughter.  Don’t you want the best chance of getting her back?”

They were silent.  Greta tried to say something, but couldn’t seem to push the words out.  Shepard turned back to Fai Dan.  “What the fuck is going on here?”

“There is no need for concern,” he said calmly, his gaze including the colonists as well as the commander.  “All will be well.  I will be in no danger.”

There was no time to figure this out, whatever it was.  “Grab whatever you need and let’s get moving.”

“I have all that I require.”  Fai Dan’s placid demeanor in the face of everything that happened to date was unnerving.  As far as she could tell, he was wearing ordinary clothes, no defensive gear, and his only offensive weapon was a small caliber pistol tucked into his belt.

“Right,” Shepard replied mildly, not allowing it to get to her.  She glanced over at her marines.  “Lieutenant, the deck is yours.  If she’s not far I should remain in radio contact.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”  Alenko saluted.

“Lead the way,” she said to Fai Dan with a sweeping gesture.  More tiredness than she would have liked seeped past her gallantry.  It had been a long day already.

There was no sign of hesitation as he led her down the stairs into the lower tunnels.  Shepard had not spent much time here.  Apparently, neither had the colonists.  There was no electric lighting laid out, nor was any of the debris of time cleared away.  At least it was dry, and relatively cool, compared to the furnace of the surface. 

Fai Dan led her through a series of turns with equal confidence though there were no markings to tell where they were going.  Darcy, if indeed she passed this way, didn’t leave a trail.  “You come down here a lot?”

“Occasionally,” he answered, absently, as he paused at the end of a hall.  It split into two corridors leading north and east. 

“You seem to know your way around.”

“It’s not hard if you know what to look for.”

“So tell me,” Shepard said, growing impatient with vagueness.  “What should I be looking for?”

Fai Dan tensed in the harsh circle of her flashlight.  “We should go left here.”

“You ignored my question.  Seems like you ignore a lot of my questions, Fai Dan.”

“Perhaps you are asking the wrong ones?”  He stepped carefully around a portion of the ceiling that had caved in.  “We must be cautious.”

Shepard glanced at the ceiling, uneasy, and hoped the structural failure was a localized event.  “I met one of your colonists out by the water pumps.  He said his name was Ian.”

“Mr. Newstead.”  The older man sighed, regretful.  “Yes.  He left our company some time ago.”

“He seemed to have undergone severe pain conditioning.”

“Ian brought his… madness upon himself.  Unfortunately, one cannot help a man who does not desire it.”

She chose her next words carefully.  “I couldn’t help but notice some of your own people flinching, sometimes, when they try to speak.  You wouldn’t know anything about that?”

“I have no idea what you mean, Commander.”

“If ExoGeni’s been mistreating you, there are actions you can take.  The Alliance takes a dim view of illegal research, especially when it involves citizens.” 

A razor edge entered into Fai Dan’s tone.  “I understand you mean well, but I assure you, your concern is unfounded.  Wait.”

He held out his arm.  Shepard couldn’t see an obstacle.  “What-“

Fai Dan put a finger to his lips and turned out his light.  Following her gut, without knowing why, she copied his actions.  They stood in the dark with their blood pounding loud in their ears.

Then she heard it- the unmistakable clank of geth feet on a hard floor.  Shepard pressed herself to the wall, her thumb running along the scratched side of her drawn rifle.  They were so close that even the slight electronic noise of its trigger responding to her familiar touch might alert them.

The metallic footfalls drew nearer, approaching from north of the intersection where they hid.  She could see the white illumination of their head-mounted flashlights reflecting off the walls.  Shepard stopped breathing. 

There were two of the machines, both the standard units that made up the bulk of geth forces, each carrying a drawn rifle.  Their narrow heads never wavered from their course as they walked right by the adjacent tunnel, taking no note of the humans standing not more than ten feet away.  Shepard could hold her breath quite a long time, an obscure bit of training intended to help her survive hostile environments, but her lungs were burning before she allowed herself to breathe again following the geth’s passage. 

Fai Dan waited until the footsteps were silent entire minutes before stepping away from the wall.  “We must hurry now.”

“Wait.”  Shepard grabbed his wrist.  “How did you know they were coming?”

“Is it not obvious?  I heard them.”

Shepard remembered the gap between stopping and when she first heard the geth, and her sense of hearing was extraordinary, but there was a more pressing question on her mind.  “There’s no chance a sixteen-year-old scouts her way around geth patrols.”

“Not even a sixteen-year-old Commander Shepard?”  His eyebrows rose, as though he found the notion amusing.

She didn’t allow herself to be deflected with flattery.  “No.  Why do you believe she’s still alive?”

“I-“ He cringed from the question.  “Perhaps I do not know.  Perhaps we will take her body back to her parents.”

With stiff dignity, Fai Dan removed his arm from her grasp, rubbing the red mark where she held it.  “We must continue.”

Shepard followed him down the darkened hall, switching her flashlight back on, but refused to drop the argument.  “You know.  I see the certainty in you.  How?”

“We must continue,” he said again, a broken record, refusing to engage.

Her exasperation was evident, but she continued tracing his footsteps.  “Ian told me he could sense the geth, but he couldn’t tell me why.  He started screaming in pain when he tried.”

For the first time, Fai Dan paused, his expression almost sad.  “Ian was very troubled.  He could not accept…”

“What?”  Her face clouded over.  “What couldn’t he accept, Fai Dan?”

He grimaced.  “It is no matter.  We are very close now.”

Nothing about this felt right.  Shepard spent an entire day eluding and fighting geth like the ones they just passed, and picking her way through the maze of ruins.  By comparison this was surgical, easy, simple- so much so that she wondered that Fai Dan hadn’t simply gone alone. 

However, when they came out into a larger room, open to at least two stories’ height, and they saw Darcy seated before the device, his reasons became clearer. 

Her back was to them as she sat cross-legged, gazing up at the technological tower the geth had raised within the chamber.  It possessed an odd elegance, with lines as fluid and streamlined as the geth themselves, but also strangely alien, the proportions or the degree of curvature or _something_ creating a disquiet in the human eye.  Shepard activated her omni-tool and set it to transmit.  “Shepard to base.  You getting this?”

Static.  She switched to pure audio, putting her finger to her ear.  “Shepard to base.  Come in.”

She glanced at Fai Dan.  “I don’t get it.  We’re not that far from Zhu’s Hope.”

He was staring up at the tower with faint, undisguised disgust.  “I believe we may have found the source of the jamming signal.”

“No, that’s not possible.”  She shook her head, queuing up a signal diagnostic.  “We encountered this on Eden Prime.  The signal comes from Saren’s flagship.”

The omni-tool’s program took a quick frequency scan, and began to break it down.  Shepard ordered a comparison between this sample and the one stored from Saren’s first attack.  Her eyes narrowed.  “Or maybe not.”

The signal used at Eden Prime was designed to jam long-range communications, but apparently, right up next to it, it was quite effective at blocking out short-range transmissions as well.  Another thought, more exciting.  “If the radius of effect is limited, and we assume Saren wants to block out both ends of the colony, we could use this device to approximate where he’s hiding.”

“Commander, something’s wrong,” Fai Dan said, breaking her focus.  He was crouched beside the girl, fastidiously avoiding contact.  Darcy was completely ignoring his presence.  As Shepard circled around, she saw her mouth was moving, the same series of motions over and over, as if she were silently mouthing some kind of silent mantra.  The hair rose on the back of her neck.

The tower emitted a thrumming sound, just this side of human audible range, at the low end.  It made Shepard’s head hurt, a deep, steady bass note of an ache.  It pulsed with a thin blue light in concert with the noise. 

“What the hell is this?” she muttered, more to herself, but Fai Dan overheard.

“Commander Shepard, please.  We can wonder about the technology later.”

She gave herself a shake.  “Right.”

Joining him on the floor beside the girl, she snapped her fingers in front of her face.  No reaction.  “Darcy.  Hey.  Wake up, we’ve got to go.”

She continued to gaze at the tower, indifferent to her words.  Shepard tried a different tact.  “Darcy, your parents are waiting for you.”

Her eyes snapped to Fai Dan.  “The boyfriend.  What’s his name?”

He caught on immediately.  “Darcy, Ben’s waiting for you.  He’s very concerned.”

Darcy’s eyelids flickered, but there was no further response. 

Shepard switched tactics.  “Can we drag her out?”

“It will be difficult to get her back to Zhu’s Hope without her cooperation.”  He pursed his lips, worried.

She slipped her hands under the girl’s shoulders and tried to lever her to her feet.  “Maybe if we get her away from this thing, she’ll snap out of it.”

Darcy weighed hardly anything at all.  Dragging her back to the hall was easy.  Waking her up from her trance, however, continued to prove difficult.  Fai Dan knelt in front of her and stared into her eyes, felt her neck, checked her vital signs.  She resisted as much as a ragdoll.

Shepard’s attention kept shifting back to the jamming tower.  Part of her argued that it was a valuable piece of technology, maybe vital to locating Saren’s dreadnought.  A bigger part of her didn’t want any of her people within a parsec of this device.  Whatever it did to Darcy… she didn’t understand.  And her own head continued to throb to its beat.  “Stay in the hall.”

Fai Dan glanced up.  “What are you planning?”

“Just stay back.”  Shepard circled the tower, looking for a control panel or a power transformer, anything that might give her access to its inner workings.  “So much care went into this.  It’s almost like some kind of shrine.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“What does, when it comes to the flashlight heads.”  She located the generator, and smiled.  A little omni-gel and the lid slid off.

In the corridor, Fai Dan was growing nervous.  “Commander, what are you doing?”

“Taking this bastard device offline.”  The tangle of chemistry and wires within the generator was beyond her comprehension, so she fell back on something she did understand, unclipping a pair of grenades from her suit’s utility belt.  “Clear the door.”

He didn’t argue, but scrambled out of the way as she tossed the explosives into the generator and ran for the exit.  The hatch was only halfway shut behind her when they went off, slamming it the rest of the way into its frame and sending her sprawling face-first onto the hard concrete.  The rough surface tore a nice scrape down her cheekbone and left her disoriented. 

Shepard raised her head with a groan.  Wisps of red hair torn loose by the blast hung down into her eyes.  _Why do I ever even bother with cleaning up?_

Fai Dan and Darcy, however, seemed hardly to realize anything had happened.  He was holding her face in both his hands, tilted up towards him, his own eyes shut with an expression of intense concentration.  Shepard tried to blink away the fog.  “What the hell are you doing?”

The words came out more slurred than confrontational.  _Never go anywhere alone.  Civilians don’t count._ If she weren’t so damn tired already, she would have remembered that.

She just about managed to raise herself to her knees when Fai Dan suddenly broke off contact, leaning back from the girl at a more respectable distance.  Darcy’s great dark eyes blinked rapidly, darting around the hall.  It was like watching the lights come on in an empty house.  “Where… where am I?”

Fai Dan spoke softly.  “You’re safe.  We’re underground, in the ruins.”

The girl folded in on herself as she processed that, leaning over like she was about to be sick.  “My parents are going to kill me.”

Shepard staggered to her feet.  If her head was hurting before, it was nothing compared to now.  She cracked open the hatch to examine the room.  “Confirmed target down.”

The once-elegant tower was lying in several large pieces on the floor, more-or-less intact, but the light and noise had gone.  Of the generator only scrap remained.  She tried her transmitter.  “Shepard to base, come in.”

There was a crackle of static.  Liara’s voice came on the comm.  “Shepard?  We’ve had another attack here.  Nobody was hurt.”

“Copy that.”  She glanced at the pair of colonists.  “We’ve secured the girl.  Standby for image transmission.”

Shepard bundled up the pictures of the intact device with those of its current state, along with her signal scans.  There was a long pause from the other end.  “What is this?”

“Geth jamming tower.  Pass them around.  I want to know how it works.”  Fai Dan was helping Darcy find her feet.  Shepard bit her lip, torn between getting the civilians away from the downed tower ASAP and the desire to conduct some recon of the area.  Surely, if the geth hid such an important strategic device down here, some kind of command post couldn’t be far. 

Between the colonists’ lack of self-defensive capability and what she suspected was a mild concussion on her part, caution won.  “We’re headed home.  Shepard out.”

Darcy seemed increasingly cognizant as they made their way back to Zhu’s Hope.  It was a good thing, too; the trio passed several additional geth patrols on the way out, each more nerve-wracking than the last.  Fai Dan always managed to detect them in time to get out of sight.  Shepard remained frustrated and confused by this almost super-human sensory capacity, but had given up digging for answers in the face of his false ignorance whenever the subject was raised.

Greta and Davin fell on them before they were past the first set of barricades, Darcy disappearing beneath their hugs and admonishments tangled with endearments. 

The light was fading as evening turned into night.  Shepard blew out a long breath, sweeping back the wayward strands of hair from her face, and located Alenko and Williams near the back.  “Liara said there was another assault?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the lieutenant confirmed.  “Three units, more of the same.  Probably a scouting party.”

“What the hell do they think they’re going to learn that they don’t know already?”  Saren’s strategy, or lack thereof, was maddening.  _Take the spaceport or don’t, but stop testing the waters.  I’m getting sick of all this waiting._

“Couldn’t say, ma’am.”

Williams slid her rifle into its holster on the back of her hardsuit and folded her arms.  “We got the memory cores to Tali, but she’s not optimistic.”

Shepard shook her head.  “They probably improved their self-destruct protocols after Saren found out about Tali’s evidence.  It’s what I’d do.”

The family approached, with Davin in the lead.  Greta kept her arm around Darcy’s shoulders, her grip tight, still pale.  Darcy was staring at the ground.  Her father cleared his throat.  “Thank you for bringing her home, Commander Shepard.”

“Thank Fai Dan.”  She jerked her chin towards the colonists’ leader.  “He seemed to always be one step ahead of the geth.”

Davin nodded.  “It’s been a long day.  We need to get her to bed.”

“No,” Shepard said in measured tones, her gaze fixed on the teenager.  “No, now we talk.”

“Talk?” Davin was taken aback.

Greta, however, found her voice.  “Your interrogations can wait.  Our daughter needs rest.”

Shepard stepped in front of her as she tried to move towards the hab.  “I’m afraid it can’t.  I have reason to believe your daughter has been holding back information vital to repelling the geth presence in this colony.”

“She’s just a girl!”

Darcy looked up and took a shuddering breath.  “No, mom.  It’s ok.  I’ll answer.”

Greta was less than thrilled, but she held her tongue, looking on with an expression of disapproval to which Shepard was impervious.  She had nothing on Hannah Shepard’s glares.  “Do you remember why you went into the tunnels?”

“I..”  Her face reddened.  “I was looking for Ben.  I thought I could… help them, the other colonists.”  She swallowed.  “I found the… whatever that was.  It was like a voice in my head.”

Darcy seemed so shaken, and embarrassed, that in other circumstances Shepard might have felt a measure of sympathy, but she’d spent too long on Feros risking her people’s lives in defense of this outpost.  “This isn’t the first time you’ve crossed through the ruins to meet Ben.”

It wasn’t a question.  Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, but Shepard was relentless.  “Answer me, Darcy.”

She shook her head.  “No.  It wasn’t the first time.”

Her mother was staring at her, open-mouthed.  Darcy looked from her to her father, pleading.  “I wasn’t skiving off, I swear!  I’d just sneak away in the evenings sometimes.  I needed to see him.”

Greta’s face flushed red with anger.  “You think missing WORK is the biggest problem here?  We told you to stop seeing him!”

“You don’t understand-“ Darcy began hotly, regaining some of her spine.

“Shut up.”  Shepard’s cold fury froze out the brewing argument in the space of an instant.  Her eyes flicked to Darcy.  “How many kinds of short-sighted are you?”

The girl drew back a step.  Shepard pressed forward.  “People have been _dying_ for want of this information, Darcy.  Right here, in your home, and probably across the way, too.”

Another step.  “We made it clear that getting to ExoGeni’s outpost was essential to ending this invasion, and all along you’ve known exactly how to get there.  What were you _thinking_?”

Darcy gave her mother a panicked glance.  Greta was unforgiving.  “Answer her, Darcy.”

“If I told you, then everyone would know,” she burst out, crying openly now.  “It would spoil everything!”

“More than watching your neighbors pay the price?  You haven’t made it a secret how much you hate this place.  Maybe you just didn’t care.”

Darcy blanched.  Shepard was almost nose to nose with her.  Alenko touched her shoulder.  “Commander, respectfully, I’m not sure speculation is getting us anywhere.”

Shepard was as angry as she’d ever been in her life, but she reached for a little composure and swallowed the stinging lecture on her lips.  Her words were clipped with the effort of containing it as she addressed the girl.  “You’re going to show me exactly where we can find this route across the colony, even if I have to drag you along as a personal guide.”

She swallowed.  “I can- I can show you on the map.  I can try.”

“You’ll do better than try.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Several hours later, with Darcy’s information and a number of encrypted calls to the _Normandy_ , Shepard sat back with a satisfied sigh.  “That’s it, people.  I think we have a plan.”

She pointed to the map, brushing hair from her eyes.  Half her bun had fallen down about her face.  The hot weather did up-dos no favors.  “We raise the _Normandy_ to roof level and take the Mako across to the broken road, here.”

“The skyway,” Garrus said, leaning forward and rubbing his hands.  “If Saren’s smart, he’ll have fortifications strung out along it.”

Shepard nodded.  “That’s why we’re taking the Mako.  You, Liara, and I will cross over and try to locate survivors, to see if they can tell us what Saren wants with this place.  Failing that, we’ll scout HQ and try to break into their data files.  He’s not budging until he has it or we have it.”

Tali interrupted.  “I should go with you.  I’ve already cracked the files ExoGeni left at Zhu’s Hope.  You might need the help.”

Shepard blew out a breath.  “Four makes for a crowded tank.”

“Tali and I don’t take up much space,” Liara argued.  “We can bunch up with you in the front while Garrus takes the gun.”

“Fine.”  She didn’t see the point in debating it.  “While we’re gone, Alenko will hold down the fort here.  I’m leaving you Wrex and Williams as command support.”

“Yes, Commander.”  He studied the map with a small frown of concentration.  “What do you think will happen when Saren realizes we’re not neatly bottled up anymore?”

“All hell breaks loose,” Wrex rumbled with an eager smile.  He sounded pleased.

Shepard shrugged.  “Could go either way.  He could hit Zhu’s Hope with everything he has to spare while our forces are divided, or draw back to defend his primary position.  Or he could decide our incursion isn’t big enough to worry about and nothing changes.  We need to be ready for anything.”

She shuffled to the next screen.  “Moving along.  Pressly has the _Normandy_ , and he’ll be giving the orders while I’m behind the jamming signal.  I’ve left him instructions.  We’ll shut the signal down if we can, but unless we can convince Saren to leave, I’m not optimistic.  I doubt he’ll be open to the suggestion.”  Shepard looked at Tali.  “Any progress on identifying that geth device we found?”

Tali shook her head.  A burst of air crackled through her ventilator, a kind of sigh.  “No.  The design bears some similarities to geth technology I’ve seen before, but other parts of it…”

She trailed off.  Alenko cleared his throat.  “Nobody’s seen anything like it.  Not here, not back on the ship.”

“We sent it with our transmission back to Alliance Command?” Now that the jamming signal at this end of the station was broken, they were able to communicate with the galaxy again.

Alenko nodded an affirmative.  She leaned forward and shut down the terminal.  “That’s it then.  Get some sleep.  We roll out at 0600.  Dismissed.”

Most of the group filed out in search of food or bed or both, leaving her alone with Williams and Alenko.  She rubbed the bridge of her nose, beyond exhausted, and began fishing pins out of her hair.  “God save me from teenaged girls.”

Williams chuckled.  Alenko likewise sat back, sticking his hands in his pockets.  “How’d you know she had a route?”

“Informed guess.”  She let out a little laugh herself.  “Come on, you never had a misguided romance before you were old enough to know better?”

He snorted.  “My parents weren’t exactly around to disapprove.”

“No, because you were stuck on a space station with a bunch of watchful teachers and other horny kids your age.”  Shepard grinned conspiratorially.  “I bet you knew every broom closet and bolt hole on that station.”

“It wasn’t like that,” he protested.  “I mean, I’m not like that.  It’s not _that_ common an experience.”

Shepard glanced at the chief and raised her eyebrows.  “Williams?”

She blushed.  “His name was Derek.  He wrote bad poetry.  I mean, really bad, like rhyming words that don’t rhyme.  My dad said if he showed up at our house in the middle of the night one more time he was going to make use of the garden hose.”

“Case in point.”  Shepard shook her head.  “When you fall in love the first time, it’s greatest, most intense thing you’ve ever felt.  Kids going through that stage of life are going to find a way to see each other.  It’s that simple.”

Williams agreed.  “Everyone remembers their first love.  So, respectfully sir, I think you’re full of shit.”

“No, I just meant not everyone falls for ridiculous people the first time out.”

“I guess some of us are wiser or luckier than most.”  Shepard shrugged, stifling a yawn.  “For my part, I know I was silly at that age.  And probably even more trouble.”

Williams yawned sympathetically.  “I think I’m going to find a bed, ma’am.”

“Good night, Ash.”  Shepard stretched back in the chair as Williams departed, sore, tired, and dirty.   She looked over at Alenko.  “You should think about doing the same.  The days are only going to get longer until this is finished.”

“Strange to say, but I’m not especially tired.  I guess I’m still processing.”

“Quite a day.”  She transferred the handful of hairpins to her mouth, held between her lips, so she had both hands free to remove the elastic band and shake out her hair with her fingers.

“Yeah.”  He was kind of staring at her, a little.

She spat the pins back into her hand and gave him a level stare.  “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, too quickly, and coughed.  “Your hair just… it looks good like that.  You should wear it down more often.”

Shepard gave him a look of utter confusion.  She knew exactly what it looked like at the end of the day, and good was not the word.  “It’s regs.  It has to be above my ears.”

“Right.  My mistake.”  He stood and stretched.  “You know what, I think I will find that bed.  Ma’am.”

“Night, Alenko.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard wasn’t asleep more than an hour before the taste of ashes filled her mouth and the ominous blaring of fog horns startled her from her dreams. Her head was pounding.

She stared up at the cracks in the hab roof, children of the crash that brought this merchant’s ship to rest in Zhu’s Hope.  _I can’t keep doing this.  Maybe Protheans didn’t sleep, but I sure as hell need to._

Her bed was little more than a couple of blankets and a pillow on the floor in her ad hoc command center.  Slowly, working on the cricks in her muscles, she sat up and put her face in her hands, trying to rub some life back into it.  _I would positively kill for a cup of hot chocolate.  Preferably with a sedative crushed up in it._

But she had to be awake and driving, possibly fighting, certainly commanding, in less than four hours.  That ruled out pills entirely.  Shepard found her feet and made her way to the module where most of her ground team was bunking.  Carefully, she perched on the edge of Liara’s cot and gave the asari’s shoulder a shake.  “Liara.”

She rolled over and made a snrking, sleepy sound.  Shepard shook harder.  “Liara.”

“Ugh.”  She blinked awake, rubbing at her eyes.  They kept their voices hushed for the sake of the others in the room.  “Shepard?  What is it?”

“I can’t sleep,” Shepard hissed.

“I can see that.”  Liara sat up a bit on her elbows.  “And so I can’t either, it seems.  Why are you here?”

Shepard felt a twinge of guilt, but pressed on in desperation.  “You said you had some kind of asari mind-control thing that would help.”

“I said I knew a technique to join our minds that might help you process the vision from the beacon.”  Liara was torn between offense and amusement.  “It’s not ‘mind-control’.  The beacon is keeping you awake?”

“Bad dreams.  The Protheans’ war against the reapers, fifty thousand years ago.” 

Liara struggled against a yawn.  “And you want to do this now?”

Shepard closed her eyes.  “Liara, I can’t do my job if I can’t rest.  If there’s anything-“

“Shh.”  Liara sat up further, until she was cross-legged on the cot.  “I’ll do what I can.  Give me your hands and try to relax.”

Shepard tried to do as she asked, but it was difficult, not knowing what was about to happen, and certain that at least a part of her was going to regret granting such personal access.  Liara’s hands gripped hers warmly, not too tight, not so loose that shaking free would be simple.  “I am going to join my consciousness to yours.  We will be, for a time, of one mind, in the same place.”

Her voice got slower, almost hypnotic.  “There are threads of commonality, shared experience, belief, life, between all thinking creatures.  They mark us and they bind us.  Let go your body and reach for them with me now.”

Liara’s hands tightened on hers, causing her eyes to fly wide.  Liara’s once-blue eyes showed only solid black.  She would have struggled, but she could already feel herself slipping under, like a drug, a heavy blanket dragged over her mind.  Liara smiled.  “Embrace eternity!”

There was a sensation of falling, and then Shepard found herself standing in a great arching hall of wood, with warm and gentle sunlight trickling down from clerestory windows.  Motes of dust danced in its beams.  Four long corridors, lined with doors of various shapes and sizes, extended in cardinal directions from this central chamber.  After a startled second, she noticed Liara standing beside her, gazing at the ceiling.

She was dressed not in the Alliance armor Shepard scrounged for her after she came aboard, nor the lab coat she favored while aboard ship, but in a long, form-fitting gown of red and white with an elegance that seemed to transcend species.  Her hands were folded on her stomach.  “This is… quite interesting.”

Shepard craned her neck.  “Where are we?”

“This is your mind, as you’ve chosen to present it to me.”  Liara glanced at her, and burst out laughing.

“What?”  She glanced down, and only then realized she was dressed in full body armor, breather helmet included.  Chagrined, she reached up and raised the polycarbonate mask.  “I guess it’s a bit… out of place.”

“I’m not going to bite, you know.”

“I’m just not… entirely comfortable with this.”  She took a few heavy steps forward, still taking in the scenery.  “I didn’t choose this.”

“I never said the choice was conscious.”  Liara clasped her hands behind her back.  “The vision is somewhere inside this building.  You need to take us to it.”

“I don’t know where it is.”  
  
“Yes, you do.”  Liara was patient.  “Try to think about it without thinking about it, like glancing out of the corner of your eye.”

Shepard shut her eyes a moment.  “East.  I think.”

They set out down the corridor.  Some of the doors were almost vault-like, thick steel guarded by thicker locks, or even chains in one case.  Liara grew curious, extending her hand towards one example- only to quickly draw it back as her fingers received a nasty shock.  She made a sound of irritation.

Shepard only smiled, without humor.  “I agreed to let you take a look at the vision.  That doesn’t mean free reign to rummage around.”

“You seem to have a great many secrets.”

“That’s what you get for a career in spec ops.”  She paused in front of an unassuming door, scarcely taller than herself, and marked all over with carvings.  “I think this is it.”

It opened readily at her touch, no locks or keys to bind it, and they stepped into a low-beamed room lined with display cases, cabinets, and flat drawers.  Each was neatly labeled- Benezia, Saren, Therum, geth, and so on. 

“You seem to have a very ordered mind.” 

“Disciplined, more like.  No choice.  It’s the only way to deal with it.”

Liara let that comment pass and opened a drawer at random.  “I would have expected terminals, or perhaps a collection of datapads.  This is almost charming in its antiquity.”

“I have a grudging relationship with technology.”  Shepard was searching along the cabinets.  She could sense the vision in this room, but not see it.  “It agrees to work and I agree not to kick at it too hard when it’s slow.”

Liara chuckled.  Shepard scarcely heard it.  Her fingers trailed over the wood until they found a small catch.  The surface of a cabinet sprang open on hinges, revealing a small black box with no visible lid or seal.  “Here we are.”

The asari archaeologist peered over her shoulder.  “You know, since we came here to see this, it would be simpler if you hadn’t locked it up.”

“These barriers aren’t for you.”  She lifted it out of its case, turning it over in her hands, looking for any sort of opening.  “They’re for me.”

“Small wonder it’s been troubling your sleep.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” 

Liara continued to hover as Shepard examined the box.  “You know, this whole place only exists in your mind.  If you want to get rid of the box, all you require is the will to do so.”

“It’s not that easy.”  Shepard shook her head, disgusted with herself.  “I mean it is that easy, but it’s not that easy, see?”

“…no.”

“To hell with this.”  She hefted the box in her hand and threw it against the wall.

It shattered into hundreds of black shards.

_The planet was on fire.  Orange rimmed the horizon in all directions, not the cheerful glow of sunrise, but from the buildings and people burning under the onslaught of cherry-red beams from a fleet of giant insectile ships.  Dead or dying Protheans lay in heaps around them.  The air was choked with their smoke.  There were no shoes upon her feet, no gun in her hand, just scraps of clothing to cover her.  Her head felt strangely heavy, though from the oppressive heat of the flames or the darkness of this hour she could not say._

_As always, she started walking, and then jogging, and then running, trying to escape the onslaught of the machines, the madness of watching her people destroyed, the insanity of knowing what she saw here was repeated on a thousand other worlds across the plane of the galaxy.  That she was a witness to the end of civilization and the extinction of her species._

_And all around her, as she ran, the incessant screaming of a dying land, the laments of the Protheans mingled with the rending of the earth, contorted with the screeching of their buildings as they collapsed into dust._

_Liara stood amidst the chaos, still wearing that red dress, her eyes wide as she beheld the destruction._

_Shepard turned.  “What are you waiting for?  This is the end, we have to go!”_

_The asari turned her gaze on the human.  “Shepard, do you know where you are?”_

_“They’re coming.”  Shepard shuffled back a few steps, grabbing at Liara’s hand, trying to tug her along.  “Can’t you hear the screams?”_

_“All this happened long ago,” she replied calmly, closing her hand over Shepard’s.  “Another age, another people, a different world.”_

_“What are you talking about?”  Shepard was flabbergasted, and afraid.  She hated being afraid, and in this moment, the only way she knew to fight it was to run.  “The reapers are here.  Right now.  If we don’t move, we die.”_

_“This is not your memory.”  Liara took a step towards her, still holding her hand.  “This belongs to the Prothean people, who were long dead before you and I were ever born.”_

_“I…”  It couldn’t be right, this felt too real, she could feel the war in her bones, but still… Shepard hesitated._

_Liara pressed the advantage.  “You are human, an officer of the Systems Alliance.  A soldier would never shirk her duty by fleeing.  You’ve never seen any of these people, any of these cities, in your life.  Think, Shepard.”_

_Her glance took in the carnage, and she drew a shaky breath.  “I should be defending them.”_

_“They were dust before you were born,” she reiterated, softly, cadenced.  “This memory is their gift to you, to enable the defense of those who are now living.  Use it.  Do not allow it to rule you.”_

_“It’s a… memory.”_

_“From the beacon on Eden Prime.”_

_Shepard’s hand went to her hair, remembering.  “I hit my head.  I was out for fifteen hours.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“We’re… on Feros,” she said slowly.  The scene was diminishing in her sight, still horrific, but less real, more like a picture in an old book.  “Fighting… geth, not reapers.”_

_“Not reapers,” Liara affirmed.  “Not yet.”_

_Shepard closed her eyes._

When she opened them, she was back in the twilight of the hab, seated on the edge of Liara’s cot, her breath rapid and loud.  Liara still clutched her hands.  Her eyes were blue again, and full of concern.  “I had no idea.”

A quick glance at the holo on the wall showed less than a minute had passed in real time.  Her gaze flicked back to Liara’s face.

“I think,” Liara whispered, squeezing her hands, “That is quite enough for one evening.”

“Liara-“

“We can talk about it later.  Now, sleep.”  She stood, pushing Shepard down onto the cot.  “Goddess knows you’ve earned it.”

Shepard didn’t even have time to protest before her eyes slid shut and exhaustion took her.


	25. The Second Lie

The road was rougher than expected.

Nathaly Shepard resisted the impulse to put the tip of her tongue between her teeth, an act of concentration, because as hard as the Mako was jouncing, it was a good way to sever it.  The Mako wasn’t responsive at the best of times.  Now, it was like trying to paddle a rowboat through a maelstrom.

Tali winced beside her as they navigated another boulder-sized chunk of fallen concrete, squeezing between it and the hundred meter drop off the skyway road stretching out across the valley.  The versatile tank could probably survive that kind of fall, but the _Normandy_ would never be able to extract it.  And Shepard wasn’t prepared to wager the odds of survival for its fragile organic cargo if the Mako happened to land on its roof.  The stabilizers were supposed to prevent that dangerous crush zone from ever making contact with the ground.

On Tali’s far side sat Liara.  Shepard hadn’t said more than hello since waking.  She was aware Liara had done her a service, for which she should be grateful, and also that it was at her own request, but all she felt was icky.  Trespassed, even.  She liked her walls and her boundaries. 

It reminded her of the aftermath of Elysium, in some odd way.  The colonists there were thankful to be alive.  Yet the ashes of their city were scarcely cool when they started asking, diplomatically, charitably, carefully, when the Alliance forces might be leaving.  Because despite the necessity of intervention, this was still their home, and they were still armed soldiers tromping all over it, an invasion of a different kind and an unwelcome reminder. 

Shepard stole another glance at Liara, who was passively examining the instrumentation.  This wasn’t between a colony and a navy.  This was personal.  It would be less straightforward.

She cleared her throat.  “Anything over the radio yet?”

“Nothing.”  Liara adjusted a dial on the haptic interface. 

Garrus reasoned, “Saren is probably disallowing local transmissions.  Cutting off communication is essential to containing any surviving colonists.”

Shepard snorted.  “Saren isn’t interested in survivors.  He proved that on Eden Prime.”

“Not quite,” Tali said.  It sounded as if she’d been thinking about this awhile.  “His goal on Eden Prime was to copy the information stored in the beacon.  He killed anyone who got in his way.  That’s not the same as wanting to destroy the colonists.”

“You could be right.  Anderson didn’t think so, but he thought a lot of things.  The situation is proving more complicated.”  Shepard sighed, and accelerated.  “Mind the gap.”

Garrus peered around the gun.  “What?”

Shepard timed the retrorocket burst to coincide with the first pair of wheels rolling out onto thin air.  There was a loud thunk from the back.  The Mako jolted a good six meters into the air, maintained most of its forward momentum, and sailed over a section of road that had fallen to ground level.  Shepard felt more of the road give way as the rear of the vehicle landed heavily on the far edge, but they rolled away from the gap before it could become a problem. 

Garrus rubbed his bruised forehead.  “A little warning, next time?”

“I thought I did give a little warning.”

“Maybe a little more than that.”

“We’ve got hostiles,” Liara said urgently, leaning over the ladar. 

Shepard scanned the road ahead.  “Two heavies and a bunch of cannon fodder behind barricades.  Garrus?”

“On the heavies.”  He swung the Mako's main cannon into position and fired a salvo. 

The armatures were too close to the barricades for Shepard to run them down.  “See if you can drive the heavies back.  I’m going to try to flank them.”

The skyway was divided into two levels by a forty-five degree ramp- a walk in the park for the Mako.  They accelerated up the ramp and took a hard left, coming at the geth from the side.  The armatures reeled on the spot, trying to adjust, but their four heavy legs were designed for bracing rather than rapid mobility.  Shepard increased their speed even more, running over the troopers in one pass, and circling around behind the armatures before they could react.

“I need more room!” Garrus called, trying to maneuver their gun into range.

“Roger.”  The Mako sped off.  Shepard learned the hard way the Mako’s shields couldn’t hold long against true geth artillery, and so the key was to keep moving.  The question was whether Garrus could keep up.

The cabin shuddered as the main gun fired off a heavy round.  One of the blips on their ladar projection shivered and died.  Garrus let out a whoop from the back. 

Then a rocket exploded, right on their rear, throwing everyone forward as the shields went down. 

Shepard cursed and swerved.  Garrus held his hand down on the artillery trigger, raining relatively low-caliber shots into the armature.  Liara’s hands flew over the instruments.  Tali crowded next to her, likewise reaching for the dials, and the two women’s frantic arguing set Shepard’s teeth on edge.

“I know perfectly well how to use a long range scanner!”

“You need to compensate for the inanimate-“

“Enough!” Shepard yelled, as another rocket cratered not two meters from their starboard flank, nearly upsetting the tank.  She drove behind a buckled section of road to provide some small cover.  “Garrus-“

“I got it.”  He swiveled the gun, and let off another heavy round.  There was a muffled explosion.  “Confirmed target down.”

Sudden quiet descended on the cabin.  Shepard’s grip went slack on the controls, and she leaned back, running her hand over her face.  “Okay.  Good work.  Let’s see what we can do about getting those shields back up.”

Tali’s helmet turned towards Liara for a moment, in what Shepard was certain was a glare, before the quarian leaned forward to run a diagnostic. 

The archaeologist, for her part, continued to fiddle with the Mako’s comm link.  She tilted her head.  “Shepard, I think I might have something.”

“Put it up on the speaker.”

The familiar spit and hiss of a half-scrambled radio frequency filled the air.  “…ony.  Next wave… shield’s impenetrable, need to tr… if anyone is sti… ome.”

Shepard frowned.  “It’s incredibly garbled.  Can you get a fix on it?”

“I believe so.”  Liara tapped away at the console.  “Yes, it’s coming from the other end of the skyway.”

Tali also glanced up.  “Shields coming back online.  The generator can’t take many more hits like that without repairs.”

“Roger that.”  Shepard put her foot to the accelerator and eased out of cover.  “Garrus?”

There came the familiar sound of the main gun recycling as it cooled back into operational range.  “We’re go.  Let’s find these people.”

“And hope they’re not with Saren.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Kaidan Alenko leaned his assault rifle against the metal crate forming his section of the Zhu’s Hope barricade, and massaged his forehead.  Not enough sleep with one long day followed by another and another was a terrific headache recipe.  The pills tamped it down to a dull ache, but in the quiet moments between attacks or other crises, it remained a distraction.

Neither the pace nor the severity of the geth assaults increased in the eight hours since Shepard left, early that morning.  Alenko took that to mean the Mako squad had yet to break through the other side.  Surely, they would provoke some kind of reaction from Saren’s forces.

Gunnery Chief Williams plopped down beside him, stowing her own rifle and digging through her pockets for some of Davin’s jerky.  “You look worried, L.T.”

The infantrywoman was in her element on Feros.  She seemed to almost revel in the constant apprehension, the uncertainty, and frequent firefights.  It wasn’t that Alenko couldn’t cope- he’d been a marine for ten years, not all of them peaceful- but he didn’t _enjoy_ this kind of dragging, deadly uncertainty.  “There’s a lot riding on this.  Saren could have found anything on this planet, and all these people are just trying to get their home back.”

“They will.”  Williams tore off another piece of jerky with her teeth, chewed and swallowed.  “Shepard’ll get through.”

“I’m not worried about that.”  He looked around and lowered his voice.  “Look, these colonists act… weird, right?  There’s something going on here we don’t understand and it could bite us in the ass.”

She spared the colonists an uneasy glance.  “I know what you mean.  There’s something off about this place.”

“Sometimes it’s like they know the geth are coming before we have any warning.  I’ve seen some of them run to reinforce the back door before the request comes over the comm.  It’s kind of freaking me out.”

“Feels like we’re in a B-grade horror flick and don’t realize it yet.”  Williams offered him a grim half-smile.  “At least they’re on our side?”

Alenko was still working down his chain of thought.  “Something caused this.  Maybe it’s not unrelated to why Saren is here.”

“We’ve asked them a half a jillion times if they found anything for ExoGeni.  The answer’s always no.”

“Which is precisely what you’d say if you were trying to hide or protect something important.”

Williams rolled her eyes.  “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Does anything ever stop you?”

“This is conspiracy-theory level bullshit.  Everyone in Zhu’s Hope says they stayed for a little peace and serenity.  Well, maybe they found it.  Maybe there’s nothing supernatural going on at all.”

“Who said anything about supernatural?  Everything has a rational explanation.”  Alenko shook his head and picked up his rifle, fiddling with the heat sink.  Lately it was taking longer to cool than expected and he was growing concerned that the cooling elements were wearing out.  “Anyway, Shepard was worried about it.”

Williams gave him a penetrating look.  “Does this have something to do with the orders she gave you right before she left?”

Shepard had pulled him aside briefly before addressing the marines left behind at Zhu’s Hope.  _I’ve left instructions with Pressly to protect the ship at all costs.  The Normandy’s tech makes it one of the most valuable assets in the Alliance.  I’m not letting it fall into Saren’s hands.  We don’t know what he found that makes this place so important, but from what it’s done here already I know it’s big, and I’m not going to risk the war for the sake of a single battle if he decides to use it against us._

_If Pressly gives the order, you take the ground team and you make for the ship.  I don’t care if it means leaving the colonists.  I don’t care if I’m not back.  Nobody is more important than defeating Saren.  Do you understand?_

_I don’t want arguments.  If you can’t follow an order, I’ll find a lieutenant who will._

_Good.  Until then, you hold this base.  One way or another, this’ll be over in a few days at most.  I’ll see you then._

Aloud, Alenko said, “If she wanted you to hear those orders, I imagine she would have addressed the entire crew.”

Williams made a sound of pure exasperation and turned her attention back to her snack.  In spite of everything, he couldn’t help being amused by her reaction.  She was a tremendous, if good-natured gossip and she hated being kept from a juicy bit of scuttlebutt.  _Shepard is right about that.  Ash is a good soldier, but not nearly ready for command.  One day._

Taking out a pocket knife, he popped open the side of the grip with a hiss of air and examined the heat sink.  The tiny refrigerated coils lining the column of wires coming down from the barrel frosted over instantly on exposure to the warm atmosphere.  Maybe that was all there was to it- Feros was a bake house, and it was cutting into the weapon’s efficiency.  He couldn’t see any parts broken or worn.

“You spend more time looking at that thing than firing it.”  Urdnot Wrex snorted his amusement and joined the two marines against the barricade.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a soft-bellied scientist, not a soldier.”

“Yeah, I could tell you hated it when I fixed the action on your shotgun a few days ago.” 

Williams grinned.  “Our L.T. isn’t ever content with knowing something works.  He always has to find out how and why.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.  “If you ask me, there are a few people around here who could do with a little more thoughtfulness.  Or was it some other cocky NCO who almost got her hand blown off removing a geth memory core after the last attack?”

“I’d seen Tali do it a hundred times,” she grumbled, but conceded the point.

Finding nothing amiss, Alenko replaced the cover, screwed down the bolt with the tip of the knife, and pressed the button to vent and seal the cooling chamber.  It didn’t require a hard vacuum, but low-pressure, clean, dry air significantly improved operation.

Without warning, a group of four colonists stood and started running towards the rear barricade, past Alenko’s position.  His brow furrowed.

Wrex sniffed at the air.  “Synthetic goop, that stuff that spills out of the flashlight heads.  Fresh.”

Gunfire sounded from the back door into the colony.  Alenko lurched to his feet and glanced at Williams.  “Hold position here in case they circle around.”

“Yes, sir.”  She set her gun over the top of the barricade as her commanding officer once more ran tiredly towards the fight to deal with the geth.

/\/\/\/\/\

The radio chatter was increasing as they drew near the far end of the bridge.  “…anyone out there… aughter miss… ExoGeni… synthe… headed south, what do they… hello?”

“Sounds like they’re trapped,” Garrus said.

Shepard grunted.  “Saren hasn’t gotten to them yet.”

“There’s still hope.”  Liara’s smile brought a bit of sunshine to the cabin.  She had that way about her, a talent for infecting optimism.

Shepard, however, was highly inoculated.  “Maybe.  There’s no indication of numbers.  We’ve only heard the one voice.”

The woman on the comm was sending incessantly, with hardly a break in transmission that was not the result of interference. 

Tali had a different theory.  “One person with a transmitter doesn’t raise this kind of alarm.  She would be too easy to find.”

Shepard blew a stray lock of hair off her face.  “Most colonists aren’t that versed in counter-insurgency.  But you could be right.”

Garrus raised his eyes to the road.  “There.  A door, up ahead.  It’s stuck open.”

The Mako arrowed towards the garage, glad to be back in cover.  The squad had encountered additional resistance along the skyway, enough to set them all on edge, and they’d caught a glimpse of the silvery geth ship hanging like a wasp off the side of the colony.  Shepard could only imagine what the hallways and homes must look like now, entirely overrun by the platoons of geth aboard that massive vessel. 

_Just like Elysium._ Shepard and her partner passed through the relay on the heels of the batarian mercenaries they were tracking.  She still recalled the drop shuttles, what looked like endless numbers of every faceless merc, pirate, separatist, terrorist, or just plain opportunist the ragtag attackers could drum up.  The Feros colony was hardly the size of Illyria, but the feeling was the same.

They drove through the door.  Two ramps met them, one leading up, deeper into the colony, while the other led down, into the garage proper.  Burns on the ground told her this was where they kept at least some of their shuttles when they weren’t in use flying to Zhu’s Hope. 

Tali leaned forward, crowding Liara.  “We have movement to the left.”

Shepard’s attention snapped to the window.  Down the ramp, figures in hard suits were scrambling towards makeshift barricades.  “Fantastic.  Now if we can just avoid being shot by the people we’re trying to save, it’ll be a good day.”

She checked her shields and cautiously opened the Mako’s driver-side hatch, raising her hands as she hopped out of the vehicle.  “I’m Commander Shepard with the Alliance.  I’m here to assist you.”

The rifle barrels aimed in their direction wavered slightly.  She pressed her advantage.  “I need to talk to the person in charge.  Permission to enter?”

They glanced at each other. 

“Slowly,” one called.  “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Shepard took a step forward, then another.  “My squad?”

The self-indicated leader of the guard jerked his head in an affirmative.  Shepard looked over her shoulder.  “Move out.  Careful.  We don’t want to make our friends here jumpy.”

The man’s eyes widened under his helmet as her team climbed out of the Mako.  “What the hell?  The Alliance is taking on aliens now?”

“Special consultants,” Shepard supplied quickly.  “This Dr. T’Soni, a Prothean expert, Tali’Zorah, whose expertise lies with geth technology, and Detective Vakarian from Citadel Security.  We’re hunting the leader of these synthetics, Saren Arterius.”

“Saren.”  The man spat.  His squad relaxed a fraction.  “Big guy?  Turian?  Metal on his face?”

“That’s him.  Do you know where he is?”

He shook his head.  “We haven’t seen him since the start of the invasion.  You better come inside.”

They sauntered down the ramp into a small make-shift encampment.  Emergency generators powered lighting, along with a handful of terminals and a radio.  About a third of the twenty-odd people present wore hard suits.  The rest were in civilian gear, heavily slanted towards lab tunics and rumpled business suits.  “Who are you?”

The man- a nametag on his breast read R. Kelm- let out a sigh.  “What’s left of ExoGeni’s security team.  Not many of us made it out when they raided the lab.  Honestly, ma’am, physical security isn’t our thing.  We were focused on loss prevention and cyber threats.”

“Understood.”  She glanced around.  “And the others?  These are scientists from the labs?”

He snorted.  “And bureaucrats.  You’ll want to talk to Jeong.  He’s the highest ranking ExoGeni goon to make it out.”

“Right.”  She started to walk off, but Kelm grabbed her arm.

“Ma’am, Jeong might be in charge, nominally, but he’s an auditor from corporate.  He doesn’t understand this place like we do.  And you can be damned sure all he’s looking out for is the company.  You want real help?  Talk to Dr. Baynham.”  He jerked his head towards the comm systems.

She nodded, wryly.  “Thanks for the insight.  I’ll keep it in mind.”

The woman seated in front of the radio was so fixated on her work that she didn’t hear them approach.  “This is Juliana Baynham.  Is anyone alive out there?  We need assistance.  My daughter is missing.  The shield around ExoGeni headquarters is impenetrable.  We must regroup against the synthetics.”

Shepard gently lay a hand over Baynham’s, where it rested on the frequency dial.  “Doctor?”

The woman started.  She was at the far end of middle age, though her close-cut layered black hair and lively blue eyes defied her years.  She must have been a great beauty in her youth.  “Oh, finally, someone heard my transmission.”

“No.”  Shepard shook her head.  “There’s a jamming signal blanketing this whole area.  We couldn’t even get garble until we got close.”

Confusion twisted her features.  “Then how…”

“We landed at Zhu’s Hope a week ago.  We’ve been fighting our way here.”

Her eyes swept the small squad.  Disappointment registered.  “There are only four of you.”

“The hostiles have deployed anti-aircraft field artillery.  I couldn’t bring my ship any closer.  But I don’t think we’re going to need it.”

Juliana opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment an angry Asian man, balding and short of stature, stormed their meeting.  “What is the Alliance doing here?  This is an internal company matter.  I must ask you to leave at once.”

“Ethan!” Juliana exclaimed, shocked.

Shepard sized him up.  “I have no intention of going anywhere.  This colony is under assault and it’s my job to defend it.”

“On whose authority?” he sneered.  “The Alliance knows better than to trespass on its citizens’ private property.  There are laws against this sort of thing.”

Shepard removed her pistol from her belt and examined it, idly, leaning back against the table holding the communications gear.  “Then I guess it’s good I’m investigating this matter on the behalf of the Galactic Council, and not the Systems Alliance.”  She gave him a shark’s smile.  “Or are you trying to tell me that ExoGeni refuses to respect even spectre authority?”

“You’re not a spectre.”  Jeong was taken aback.

“Look at her, Ethan.”  Juliana was exasperated.  “This is the commander from Eden Prime.  You watch the news.”

“Commander Shepard.”  She held out her hand.

He shook it, limply, all the wind snatched from his sails.  Feebly, he made a final attempt at dissuasion.  “Commander, I really must ask you to leave.  The situation is under-“

“Control?  Don’t make me laugh.”  She turned her attention back to Juliana.  “Give me the rundown.”

“I can’t tell you much about the colony.  We haven’t heard from them since we got here.  But the geth overran our labs.  They drove everyone out, killed anyone who wasn’t quick enough.  Every once in a while a scouting party tries to break in, but we’ve driven them off every time.”

“That’s odd.”  Shepard frowned.  “Zhu’s Hope is getting attacks almost hourly.  Why care so much about those colonists, but leave you alone?”

“Zhu’s Hope is still alive?”  Juliana brightened momentarily.  “We had no idea, we’ve been so cut off.  That is wonderful news.”

Jeong’s lips thinned.  “Yes.  We have quite a tidy investment in this little colony.  But clearly these… attacks aren’t within our corporate liability.”

Juliana’s eyes cut to the auditor with sudden steel.  “You said they were all dead.”

“I said they were probably all dead.”  He waved his hands wildly in frustration, which was the point Shepard noticed he was clutching a pistol.  With the safety disengaged.  “You remember what the first wave was like.  Who survives that?”

Shepard stepped smartly to the side, out of Jeong’s frontal cone.  “I suggest you put that weapon away unless you’re prepared to fire it.”

He looked down as if seeing it for the first time, and with some embarrassment stuffed it into the hem of his trousers.  Garrus coughed, reached over, and flipped on the safety.  Jeong reddened.  “The best thing we can do is wait for corporate reinforcements to arrive.”

Juliana snorted.  Jeong’s blush deepened.  “They’re bound to show up sooner or later.”

“Or they’ve written the whole lot of you off as a loss,” Garrus said dryly.

“They’d never leave th-“  Jeong cleared his throat.  “I mean, ExoGeni values all its assets.

Shepard’s interest sharpened.  “Any idea why the geth chose to attack Feros?”

“None,” Juliana said immediately.  “We’ve been here for four years.  In that time, we’ve barely found enough tech to fill a broom closet, and most of it isn’t new.  Resources are our biggest obstacle.”

“There’s nothing here that would justify an attack,” Jeong agreed.  “There’s barely enough here to justify a colony.”

“Please try to think.  It’s critical to stopping the attacks in the Traverse.”

Juliana pursed her lips.  “Well, there is this.  Most of the geth we’ve spotted have been heading south.”

Understanding dawned.  “Towards Zhu’s Hope.”

Juliana nodded.  “I have no idea what they’re searching for, but whatever it is…”

“They think the spaceport is hiding it.”  Shepard rubbed her eyes.  “That confirms one of my theories, anyway.  Thank you.”

It was impossible to avoid noticing that Jeong was looking daggers at Juliana.  He swallowed and attempted to school his expression as Shepard’s gaze pierced him.  “I can’t wait for the home office to get me the hell off this rock.”

Shepard switched tactics.  “Are we getting close to their base?”

“They’ve holed up in ExoGeni HQ,” Juliana confirmed.  “It’s just a little further up the skyway.  Nothing much to it.  There’s a few labs, and a bunch of offices, but it’s built like the rest of this ruin- all tunnels and staircases.”

Jeong was all but snarling at this point.  “Try to minimize damage, Commander.  This is ExoGeni property.”

She rolled her eyes and lied through her teeth.  “Copy that.” 

“And I must remind you that ExoGeni will not be held responsible for any injuries sustained during your illegal entry to our facility.”

She just stared.  He swallowed again. 

“Right.”  Shepard turned to go.  “Let’s get back to the Mako and see what we can get from HQ.”

Juliana grabbed her arm.  “Commander Shepard, there is one more thing.  My daughter- Lizbeth- she’s still trapped up at headquarters.  I’ve been trying to contact her over the radio, but that shield they’ve put up is impenetrable.”

“Lizbeth?  We met a colonist at Zhu’s Hope, Ian Newstead, who mentioned a Lizbeth.”  
  
“She spent a lot of time over at the port.”  Juliana was pleading.  “Please, try to find her.  She’s alive.  I just know it.”

“There’s no need for the Commander to go poking around,” Jeong cut in.  “We can conduct a full accounting of our casualties after the geth are cleared out.”

“I’m not interested in your company secrets,” Shepard exploded, out of patience with his corporate bull.  “I’m here to find out what Saren wants and drive off his machines.  That’s it.  Get on board or get out of my way.”

Jeong opened his mouth.  Shepard turned her glare up a notch.  He mumbled and looked away.  “Someone’s got to look out for ExoGeni’s interests.”

Shepard allowed that to pass.  To Juliana, more gently, she said, “I’ll keep an eye out for your daughter.  But I gotta tell you, things look bad out there.”

“Thank you.  That’s all I can ask.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Staff Lieutenant Alenko was wolfing down a slapped-together sandwich while standing in what passed for a kitchen in the Zhu’s Hope hab.  Since the arrival of the marines, they were trying to rotate people off the barricades every six hours, to keep everyone sharp, but as the commanding officer in lieu of Shepard he was lucky if he got ten minutes before something called him back.  No wonder she made such little progress finding Saren on this rock.

There was a port overlooking the shipping yard.  Most of the crates had been repurposed as barriers against the geth, lending the yard a rather forlorn look.  A young woman stood listlessly at the controls for the massive crane that in better days hauled large containers of supplies across the spaceport.  Alenko recognized her as Hana Murakami.  Other than the salarian merchant, she was the only survivor of the wreck of the _Borealis_ that created this habitat.  Some had died in the accident, but more fell to the slow attrition of the geth invasion.

She spent most of her time staring into space with her hands slack over the crane’s control terminal.  It made a certain amount of sense.  To the merchant, it was only a chartered vessel and crew.  Murakami might have served on her, with those same people, for years, and the crash wasn’t so long ago.  She didn’t fit in here, and had no means to leave.

Alenko swallowed the last of the sandwich with a long drink of water, and decided he wouldn’t be too hard to find in the yard.  The least he could do was make sure she was getting along.  With everything else that was happening, it would be easy to overlook one colonist who wasn’t taking care of herself.

Murakami turned to him with a thousand-yard stare.  Her dark eyes were unfocused behind a black fringe of bangs.  She blinked, once, glacially.

“Hi,” he said, for lack of anything else to say.

Another blink.  Alenko turned towards the console, continuing bravely despite Murakami’s spookiness.  “Working on the crane?  There’s not much cargo now.”

“I’m running a diagnostic,” she said softly, devoid of any inflection. 

He peered at the holographic screen.  She shifted uncomfortably, as if to hide it, and out of politeness he looked away.  “Were you a tech on the ship?”

“I was the navigator.”

“That takes a lot of training.  Why stay here after the crash?”

Her face clouded over, confused, but it was gone so quickly Alenko wasn’t certain he’d seen it at all.  Smoothly, and just as flatly, she said, “It’s peaceful here.”

His eyes cut back towards the barricades.  “Peaceful.”

“There’s something about this colony.  I can’t-”  Her tone grew agitated, her hands fidgeting with the controls.  “I can’t- describe it.  It’s kind of like…”

Murakami’s face twisted, conflicted, but then she shut her eyes a moment.  By the time she opened them again, her demeanor was placid once more, resuming that quiet, empty gaze.  “I can’t explain it.  You should ask Fai Dan.”

“A lot of people here seem happy to let Fai Dan speak for them.”

All that met that statement was another slow blink.  Alenko rubbed his nose.  “Look, I just came out here to make sure you’re ok.  It seems like you never leave this terminal, not even to eat or sleep.”

She turned back to the console.  “My needs are met.”

Murakami was almost catatonic in her responses, shutting down after each attempt at conversation, answering the question and nothing more.  Alenko gave up.  He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.  “Alright.  Just don’t feel like you have to stay out here if you don’t want to.”

He turned back towards the barricades, intending to check in, when something caught his eye.

The crane was left in place after its final use, when they finished clearing out the last of the cargo boxes.  To Alenko’s surprise, it was not dangling over the yard, but rather over the shipwreck-turned-hab.  His eyes traced down the boom until he identified the module.  The crease in his brow deepened. 

“What are you looking at?” Murakami asked suddenly.  There was nothing laconic about her now.

He glanced at her over her shoulder.  The intensity, and suddenness, of her focus was unsettling.  “You were using the crane to… what, settle the ship?”

“We use the crane for a lot of things,” she said sharply.

_Why do it after the geth arrived?_ he thought, and started to ask, but something in Murakami’s look made him think better of it.  He was startled to find his hand drifting towards his pistol and stopped himself with a conscious effort.  “I see.”

“I need to get back to work.”  The same note of near-hostility played through her words.  “Fai Dan wants a report on-“

Her mouth snapped shut, chagrined.  His eyes narrowed.  “A report on what?”

Pain flashed across her face, making her eyes fly wide.  She turned back to the terminal and began to enter commands almost frantically.  “I need to get back to work!”

“Ok, ok.”  He held up both his hands and took a step back.  That seemed to calm her.  _What the hell happened to these people?_

He could feel her gaze piercing him all the way back to the barricade.  However, as soon as he was out of her line of sight, he ducked back inside the hab.  It wasn’t a complicated ship, just a single deck with a number of modular bays hanging off her spine.  It didn’t take long to confirm his suspicion.  Though from the outside it looked like part of the ship, there was no way to access the module under the crane from inside the structure.  It was almost as though it was levered into place as an afterthought.  Why?

To hide something, naturally.  Alenko frowned.  What were the colonists keeping inside that module?  What was so awful that they’d stationed one of their own to guard it?  Maybe the same thing that had wave after wave of geth attacking Zhu’s hope. 

Quietly, he buried the thought.  Though he was damned if he understood it, every instinct in him demanded he defend himself when Murakami noticed his interest in the module.  He didn’t rely on his gut feeling like the commander, but on the rare occasion when it put in an appearance, it was seldom mistaken.

For the first time since they arrived on Feros he was actually worried.  Nobody served so long in the Alliance without growing comfortable with the hazards of combat, but this was something else entirely, something he didn’t understand.  Mentioning it could endanger the ground crew in unpredictable and unacceptable ways.

_Best to keep it quiet for now._ He bit his lip, and gave the wall with its conspicuously absent hatch one final glance.  _Just until Shepard gets back.  She’ll know what to do._

/\/\/\/\/\

They drove up the skyway until they found a section of retrofit concrete block wall that had caved under the geth onslaught, just wide enough to admit a person.  The gentle vibration of the Mako shuddered and died as Shepard powered down the vehicle.  It was a calculated risk; a full power-up sequence took the better part of fifteen minutes.  They needed the tank to return to Zhu's Hope in a secure and timely fashion.  She wasn't going to make it easy to remove.  As a precaution, she parked out of line of sight of the breach, to better protect the Mako.  At the worst only light geth units would be able to pursue them through the hole, a small enough force to hold off indefinitely at a bottleneck.

The four passengers disembarked without much fanfare, weapons readied, and disappeared into the gap.

Garrus blinked in the low light.  "Looks like ExoGeni blocked off part of the road to make their building."

"Explains why that wall gave out so easily."  Shepard continued to marvel at how well-preserved the site was relative to its age.

Liara craned her neck, examining the entirely Prothean ceiling.  "They were building an empire for eternity.  No empire dreams it will ever fall.  Still, they have an advantage here- other areas of Feros with a more destructive climate are likely less well-preserved."

"Makes you wonder what the galaxy would look like if any of them survived into modern times."  The road was in no better condition here than further back along the skyway.  Shepard picked her way around a jagged tear, where the road had buckled and lifted a good two meters above the other half. 

"Undoubtedly, we would have benefitted from their experience.  If just a few had lived... They could tell us so much about the reapers, more than one broken vision."

Shepard's skin crawled at Liara's casual mention of the vision they shared.  She took a breath to quell the reaction.  It was done.  There was no point in denying it.

The others seemed not to have noticed her faint revulsion.  Garrus chuckled.  "A witness to question.  Wouldn't that be nice."

Tali, meanwhile, had crawled up above road level, some distance away from the group.  "Shepard!  You need to take a look at this."

"What is it?"  Shepard made her way to the quarian, who was standing before a door, a real one and not an accidental hole in the wall, taking readings of a blue shield stretched across the frame.  "More Prothean shielding?"

"No."  Tali shook her head.  "This is modern technology.  Advanced, but ordinary.  The barrier is quite strong.  Maybe if we could use the Mako, the main cannon could breach it."

Shepard grimaced.  "Not an option.  We'll have to find another way in."

Garrus prodded the barrier.  "Complete communications embargo, heavy-duty kinetic shielding... Saren really didn't want anyone watching what he’s doing here."

Her smile grew teeth.  "I like it.  It means when we figure this out, it's going to hit him where it hurts."

“What about over here?” Liara was standing before a collapsed section of floor, looking down into the darkness.

Shepard crouched and craned her neck, peering into it.  “That’s a solid drop, and little cover.  We won’t be able to retreat quickly if there’s a party of geth waiting.”

“Nothing on the ladar,” Tali reported. “Though it could be their jammers again.”

Shepard strained her ears, but all she heard was the steady drip of water from a leaking pipe somewhere ahead.  “Alright.  Drop down, form up, and be on alert.”

She took point, with Garrus not far behind, and Tali and Liara hanging back.  Liara was still not entirely comfortable with military life, but Tali continued to surprise her with her resilience and adaptability.  The quarian had explained that on the fleet, emergencies, often life-threatening ones, were not uncommon.  It came with living on ancient second and third-hand ships.  Shepard wondered what drove a civilization to live that way, century upon century, when there were other obvious solutions to their problems like terraforming, but had not yet found a diplomatic way to ask, and liked Tali too well to be deliberately discourteous.

They made their way down the short hallway by the light of the main chamber that flowed down through the fallen floor.  It led to a large interior room, the floor slick with leaking water, smelling faintly of mildew and a stronger, animalistic scent not unlike wet dog that Shepard struggled to place. 

The second the squad cleared the hall, two pistol shots rang out in rapid succession.  Shepard felt the air stir as one cleared her cheek by mere centimeters.  Tali and Liara scattered.  Garrus jumped to the side, clear of any further shots. 

Shepard raised her rifle.  It found only a shaking human woman half-hidden in the shadows of the room.  The gun wavered in her hand.  “Oh… oh god.”

“Put it down.  Now.”  Shepard’s aim, in contrast, was quite steady.

She all but dropped it.  The pistol clunked as it hit the hard floor.  “Please, I’m just a scientist working for ExoGeni.  Don’t shoot.”

Shepard relaxed, lowering her gun, and sighed.  “You can’t just go shooting everything that moves.  It’s dangerous.”

“I- I know.  I’m sorry.”  She swallowed, her eyes straying to Shepard’s hard suit insignia.   “The Alliance finally sent help?”

“The Alliance didn’t even know anything had happened.  Your employers didn’t see fit to inform us.”  She didn’t bother to disguise her disdain for ExoGeni.  “I’m Commander Shepard.  I’ve been tracking the geth, and that led me to your colony.”

Recognition dawned.  “You’re the one from Eden Prime.”

“That’s me, yeah.  Who are you?”

“I’m Dr. Baynham, a researcher here.  I stayed behind during the attack to try to reach the Alliance, but they dropped that damned shield.  I’ve been stuck here ever since.”

Liara’s interest perked.  “Juliana Baynham’s daughter?”

“Yes.  How did you-“

The asari smiled.  “We met your mother, along with other survivors from this complex, just a little further down the skyway.  You could probably reach them.”

“Oh my god.  I need to go.” 

She started moving towards the hallway, but Shepard stepped in front of her.  “Not so fast.  First I need some answers.  And I doubt you’re getting back up to road level without our help.”

Lizbeth took a breath, composing herself.  “Yes.  Of course.  I’ll help however I can.”

“The geth aren’t targeting our colonies at random.  They’re looking for Prothean technology.  Is there anything ExoGeni or the colonists discovered here, anything at all, that might attract attention?”

“No, nothing like that.  We’ve barely found enough to keep the colony funded, much less anything extraordinary.”  But she looked away as she spoke, just for a second, a small twitch of evasion.

Shepard put that together with Jeong’s slip of the tongue and applied a little pressure.  “Lizbeth, I would not ask were it not beyond important.  This stretches past the needs of one company or one colony or even one species.”

Lizbeth bit her lip.  Shepard took a step towards her.  “You ever want to save the world?  This is your chance.”

The young woman took a breath and met Shepard’s eyes steadily.  “I’m sorry, Commander.  We haven’t found anything like that.”

Shepard watched her a moment, then nodded.  “Alright.  What’s the quickest way into the labs?”

“Through the door near the back.  It’s inside the shield so it’s not blocked.”  Lizbeth pointed.  Her hand scrabbled at her waist.  “Here, take my ID badge.  It should get you through any access point except the executive wing.”

“Thanks.”  Shepard clipped it onto her utility belt.  “Garrus, can you boost our friend here out of this hole?”

 

“I’m on it.”  He turned back towards the hall.

Tali made to follow.  “I’ll help.”

Shepard jerked her head, affirmative.  “Go.”

Lizbeth allowed herself to be led away.  “Watch out for varren.  They’re wild in the tunnels outside the complex proper.”

Well, that explained the stench.  Shepard leaned against the wall and rubbed her eyes.

“Tired?” Liara asked.

She shook her head.  “Catching my breath, that’s all.”

Liara moved a little closer, tentative.  “I was wondering if we might discuss the contents of the beacon.  I have a few observations that may prove important.”

Shepard scooted away a half-step without thinking.  Her look when she realized it was at once abashed and defiant.

Liara closed her eyes briefly, collecting her thoughts.  “You humans are so stubborn.  Your minds are so independent, so resistant to melding with the shared experience that connects all life.”

“I’d think it would be an advantage, having a mind resistant to invasion,” Shepard replied thoughtlessly. 

“I did not invade.  No asari would ever abuse the grace of our goddess in such a fashion.  I was invited.”

“I know.”  Shepard ran her hand over her face.  “I know, I’m sorry.”

“The resistance you perceive as a benefit, the asari, and those who have known us longer, would find lonesome.”  Liara pursed her lips.  “If I may be blunt, you are more defensive than even most humans.  You despise allowing another person to perceive any supposed weakness, even when their only motive is to help you.”

“I have my reasons,” she said, rather stiffly.

“Undoubtedly.  But you’re intelligent enough to understand that such sharing can also be a strength.”  Liara shook her head. “But this is not what I wished to discuss.  I think I have discovered why the beacon continues to trouble your mind.”

Shepard’s interest was piqued despite her discomfort. “I’m listening.”

“It was supposed to be a message.  A warning.  But it’s incomplete, maybe because the beacon was damaged, or maybe because it was intended for a wholly Prothean mind.  In either case, you cannot comprehend the vision in its entirety.  Critical portions are missing.  That is why it will not leave you alone.  It _wants_ to be heard.”

“You talk about it like it has a mind of its own.”

“Not precisely.  Prothean communication is known to be… strange.  Even experts only have the crudest understanding of its principles.”

“Rogue spectres, synthetic armies, and intelligent voicemail.”  Shepard shook her head.  “I could do with a little less mystery.”

“Then let’s go find some answers,” Garrus said, rejoining them with Tali close behind.

The door opened to Lizbeth’s badge, just as she promised, and they found themselves in a side corridor leading to abandoned office space.  Terminals sat shut down, offline when the power was cut, waiting patiently for their users to return.  Datapads and office chairs lay upturned on the floor in an inch of stagnant water.  Shepard glanced up and saw crude sprinklers bolted into Prothean concrete.

“The geth’s gunfire must have set them off,” Tali reasoned. 

Garrus’ fingers brushed over a scorch mark on the wall. “That, or flamethrowers.”

A blackened human corpse lay at his feet, an ExoGeni employee who had not made it to safety.  Liara blanched.  “There is no excuse large enough in the universe for this.”

Shepard glanced at the stairs.  “Let’s make it count.  We don’t leave until we know why Saren visited this place with his misery.”

Her team was still looking around the office, weary and bewildered.  Shepard’s mouth settled into a grim line.  “Listen to me.  We are going to bring down this damned shield, uncover Saren’s secret, and evict these sons of bitches with such finality that no synthetic will come within a hundred parsecs of this world so long as there is a single geth memory core left.”

Tali straightened.  Liara let out a breath, and nodded.  Garrus turned to face the stairwell and raised his gun. 

Then they heard a fifth voice, a deep growl, coming from the second level.  “Stupid machine!”

There was a murmur of response, evidently unsatisfactory.  “Dammit!  Access encrypted files!”

Tali whirled.  “That’s not the geth!”

Shepard didn’t waste breath replying.  She ran for the stairs. 

“No, I don’t want to review protocol!  Fucking VIs!”

“I’m sorry, I am unable to comply with your request,” said a pleasant, artificially smooth male voice. 

“Give me access to your secure servers, or I will blast your virtual ass into actual dust,” the first voice roared, the threat as heartfelt as it was absurd.

Shepard made it to the top of the stairs.  A fully armored krogan, with his back turned to her, was shouting at a pink-lined VI, which smiled vapidly in the face of the krogan’s fury.  “That request requires a level four security exemption.  Please speak with your supervisor.  If you have no further inquiries, please step aside.  A queue is forming for use of this console.”

She cursed all synthetics, everywhere, and started firing before he had even fully turned around.  The rest of her squad joined her.  The krogan went down like the half-ton of meat it was.  His golden eyes stared blankly at Shepard’s boots as she approached.

He had the same yellow skin and blackish-red crest as the krogan on Therum, the same as described by the colonists at Zhu’s Hope when they spoke of the krogan squad that had attacked shortly before the _Normandy’s_ arrival.  She stared at the dead krogan, the spots on his neck like outsized freckles, the cheap fabrication of his armor, the way his fingers curled around his rifle even in death, and wondered. 

What was the connection between Saren and the krogan?  Was it just one clan, hence the similarity, or something more sinister?

The VI chirped.  “Welcome back, Dr. Baynham.  May I remind you: the firing of weapons on company premises is strictly forbidden.  Can I be of assistance?”

Her brow furrowed in confusion.  Then she gave the badge at her belt a glance.  Apparently, ID was all that was required to be authenticated.  _Good grief.  Even their security protocols are cheap as hell._

She straightened, leaving the krogan at peace, and approached the VI.  “What was the last user attempting to access?”

“He was attempting to learn more about the thorian,” it replied pleasantly.  “Unfortunately he did not have the required security permissions.”

“Tell me about the thorian.”

It paused and flickered for a moment.  It would seem the back-up generator was running out of steam.  “The thorian is a fascinating plant-based life form discovered running beneath most of the surface of Feros.  It is dispersed along many neural nodes, the largest known concentration of which is beneath the spaceport at Zhu’s Hope.”

_Neural nodes?_ Her heart sped up.  She had a terrible sense of foreboding.  “Why did he want to know about a giant plant?”

“The thorian obtains resources and accomplishes tasks, even those of a certain complexity, by emitting spores that infect and subvert animal life forms to its will,” the VI explained, as placidly as if it were describing grass.  “Before losing contact with the sensors at Zhu’s Hope, it was believed over 85% of the colonists were affected.  Your own work demonstrated the thorian is quite careful of its tools, allowing them to pantomime a normal existence when it requires no specific tasks.”

Shocked silence greeted this pronouncement.

“Those bastards,” Garrus said at last. 

“How horrifying.”  Liara was aghast.  “So all the colonists’ strange behavior… it was because of this creature?”

Tali looked at Shepard.  “Do you know what this means?”

“Yes.”  She sighed and leaned back on her heels.  “Lizbeth Baynham lied to me.  And I left our ground crew sitting on top of a time bomb.”


	26. The Biggest Lie

The VI’s fixed smile had grown irritating.  “Do you require anything else, Dr. Baynham?”

“No.”  Shepard started to turn.  “Wait.  Yes.”

“How can I be of assistance?”

“Within the company, who has records of the thorian project?”

“I apologize,” it said, without ever varying its placidly helpful tone.  “I am unable to access those records on account of your probation.”

She blinked.  “My… what?”

“You were placed under administrative restrictions following your vocal and persistent objections to established company policy regarding the thorian project, for which you were tasked with overseeing the health and safety of the Zhu’s Hope experimental group.”

“Right.  How silly of me,” Shepard said, distantly.  Ian’s defense of Lizbeth and her prevarication now made a certain degree of sense.  Lizbeth was trying to protect the colonists- even if her reasoning was flawed.

Tali pressed forward.  “Shepard, we’ve got to get that barrier down.  It’s interfering with communications and we need to warn the ground team what they’re dealing with.”

Shepard couldn’t agree more.  “We’re done here.  Move out.” 

They left the VI nattering behind them and pushed further into the complex.  This was the laboratory wing.  Standing-height counters graced with all manner of instrumentation were installed within the long, shallow chambers Prothean architects evidently favored.  None of it was operational.  All emergency power was diverted to critical resources, like the VI overseeing records and security, with none left for the experiments.

Liara, a scientist to her core, looked around in dismay.  “This was a place of research and learning.  Now it’s a slaughterhouse.”

Several bodies of colonists too slow for geth rifles lay up against the cabinetry.  Garrus bent and closed their eyes.  “We’re not likely to find any survivors in this base.”

Shepard shook her head.  “The only thing we can do for them now is finish this.  We need to find the source of the barrier.”

Lizbeth’s ident pass proved invaluable as they moved from one area to the next.  Eventually, they stumbled upon two geth units tending to a room that once held ExoGeni servers.  The synthetics fell quickly under the squad’s surprise attack, but they weren’t Shepard’s deepest concern.

“Goddess,” Liara breathed, staring.  The thick walls were pierced by metal claws larger than their Mako, where the silvery geth ship had dug into the side of the facility. 

Tali bent and examined cables running from the claws to disappear down unknown hallways.  “The geth ship is almost certainly powering the shield, but I don’t see a way aboard.”

Garrus, not one for caution, let off a few rounds.  The only result was to send bullets ricocheting into the ceiling.  “It’s going to take more ordnance than we’ve got to make it let go.”

Shepard, however, was fixated on a blindingly well-lit area sheltered by the claws, forming the skeleton of a half-dome.  There were two bodies piled within it before a terminal limbed with the same odd blue light as the jamming tower back at Zhu’s Hope.  The downed geth were tending it when they arrived.  “What in the hell is that?”

Tali shied away from it, appalled.  “Keelah… it looks like some kind of… shrine.” 

Liara wandered closer.  “It does bear the hallmarks of a temple or sacred site.”

“Maybe it’s some kind of complicated comm device.”  She chewed her lip.  The theory was plausible, but it was difficult to make out any features due to the intensity of the light.  “Reapers are their gods, right?  So what hell does this have to do with that?”

“It’s got to be something else,” Garrus argued.  “Why would synthetics mess around with religion?  They know their creators- they’re the quarians.”

Tali shuddered.  “I don’t know.  I don’t like it.”

Shepard was tempted to kick the terminal over, it was that disturbing, but the thought of touching it made her stomach shrivel.  Just like dragon’s teeth.She turned away from the tableau.  The simple motion was harder than expected.  Her brain jumped to a memory of Darcy babbling before the jamming tower, but the exact connection eluded her.  “I don’t think we should spend more time here than necessary.”

“Agreed.”  Garrus pointed with his rifle.  “These stairs lead down to the shuttle bay, where they brought in deliveries from Zhu’s Hope.  If nothing else we should find the shuttles there.”

The squad continued onward.  Here and there, they found more evidence of geth hostilities, whether it was fire damage, bullet holes, or the more human relics- bodies, blood, and abandoned spaces thrown into chaos.  They also found actual geth holding out in defensible areas, along with additional krogan.  The way they rearranged the offices to form barricades and barriers infuriated Shepard.  First they invade and disrupt these people’s lives in a way that would never be forgotten, long after this was over, and then they repurpose all these very human things to entrench themselves within the facility.  It was sickening.

Eventually, they reached the shuttle bay, which doubled as a warehouse.  Shepard kept close to the wall, trying to get a sense of the terrain.  She guessed that the geth would be unwilling to leave a major tactical resource like the colony’s shuttle fleet unguarded.

She was correct.  Patrolling the warehouse floor was a destroyer unit.  Standing nearly four meters tall and armed to teeth, they were formidable enemies even without factoring in the close quarters.  The warehouse was so stuffed with unopened crates, shuttles, and monitoring terminals that there was scarcely room to move.  It was overseeing a dozen-odd smaller units toting everything from assault rifles to flame throwers to rocket launchers. 

_I really hate these bastards._ She scuttled across and took cover on the stairs leading down to the floor.  Garrus followed.  Tali and Liara set up around the entryway and gave her the nod.  Shepard took aim at one of the rocket-kitted geth towards the back and opened fire.

There were a lot of synthetics.  The noise level rose immediately to a level that rendered ears useless.  While she managed to take out her target in the opening exchange, thereafter she was forced to spend more time in cover than firing back.  Their stray shots peppered the far wall.  Between the shuttles, the hydraulic pipelines for the cranes, and the ugly claws of the geth ship, nobody was lacking for cover.  Shepard thought with exasperation that they were doing more damage to the room than each other. 

Liara created a mass effect field that cleared some of the mess, but it caught as many crates as geth.  It did, however, allow Shepard a clear shot at the destroyer.  The first took out its blue flashlight face.  The following drove it back several paces.  Liara flung a ball of dark energy that hit it squarely in the chest, causing it to stumble and fall. 

Meanwhile, Tali was crouched over her omni-tool, doing everything in her power to interfere with the geth’s electrical systems.  Her familiarity with geth technology was as obvious as it was valuable.  She knew exactly where they were vulnerable, and a week’s worth of heavy fighting against them at Zhu’s Hope, not to mention examining the remains, had done nothing to dull her skill.  Her steady work was keeping their shields down and allowing the others to pick away at their hardware.

Shepard and Garrus squatted side-by-side and did their best to keep the geth off their friends, who were doing all they could to control the battlefield.  There was a tense moment as one of the lighter geth units slipped around out of their line of sight, but that same maneuver left it very exposed as it attempted to charge up the stair.  It wasn’t long before the four teammates were the only ones left moving.

Shepard picked her way down over the debris.  Someone from ExoGeni was going to have a massive clean-up job before this place would be habitable again.  Where their bullets had pierced the great shuttle bay doors, dingy sunshine spilled through, casting the warehouse in the yellow of old attics, dust motes stirred up by the heavy fighting dancing in the light.  Several of the shuttles were likely damaged beyond repair.  These weren’t military spacecraft with armor plating, and the geth were carrying some serious ordnance.  Shepard was thankful that eezo cores were far more inert than their chemical predecessors.

Tali paused when they reached the destroyer to relieve it of its memory core.  As Shepard understood it, each type of geth had a unique electronic design as well as the more obviously unique carapace.  What made less sense was when Tali tried to explain that each unit also possessed individual characteristics, much as humans had roughly the same “hardware and software” but cultivated distinct personalities.  A few AI had crossed her path over the years, and in her experience they had about as much personality as her ship.  Sure, they were distinguishable from each other, but not in ways that could not be explained by differences in programming. 

Some of the crew had taken to debating in their downtime whether the geth were sentient beings or simply advanced machines.  Shepard had a hard time grasping the relevance.  Were the times the Alliance sent her to fight batarians or turians or other human beings supposed to feel markedly different?  If it was shooting at her, she felt little remorse in shooting back, regardless of whether it was toting a brain.

She reached the claw embedded at the far end of the shuttle bay.  “We’ve got to find a way to make it let go of the building.”

Liara glanced at the shuttle fleet.  “Could we overload one of the eezo cores?”

“Only if you wanted to take out half the building with it.”  Tali was bemused.  “But that gives me an idea.  Does anyone see the control console for those bay doors?”

Shepard understood immediately what Tali was after.  The claw closest to them was snaked in through an open door, massive in scope.  If they could bring it down with enough force, it might damage the claw sufficiently to weaken the ship’s hold.  “That ship is incredibly heavy and these claws are tiny relative to its bulk.   Holding it vertical like that has got to be precarious.”

“It won’t take much,” Tali agreed.

“Over here,” Garrus called, powering up a console along the back wall.  There was a groan of hydraulics coming back online.  Tali hurried over and began to interface with her omni-tool.

The turian gave Shepard a sidelong glance.  “So.  Still think these colonies can stand defenseless and wait for the government to save them?”

She shook her head.  “You just don’t give up, do you.”

“ExoGeni was supposed to protect them until military help could arrive, and look how well that worked out.”

“If ExoGeni had followed procedure, the Alliance would have been alerted to the problem as soon as Feros comm traffic stopped.  A scouting ship would have arrived within two days, and the necessary support soon thereafter.  We’re going this alone because I don’t have time to wait for them to show up.”

“Procedure.”  He said it like a dirty word.

“How would you have it, Garrus?” Shepard asked, exasperated.  “Gangs of armed civilians making up their own self-serving rules in the name of defending the colony?”

“As soon as you take people out of the equation and put ‘corporation’ or ‘bureaucracy’ in their place, everything goes to hell.  ExoGeni is acting in its own best interests.  You can never expect it to do otherwise.”  He sighed.  “Anyway, that disturbs me less than the fact that it would be three days or more before real Alliance support arrived.  There’s always so many regulations and red tape tying everything down.”

“You’re right.” She shook her head.  “It is slower than anyone would like.  But it’s the best we’ve got.  Not for nothing have at least four completely distinct civilizations come up with very similar answers to this problem.  That should tell you something about how tricky it actually is.”

“It’s been a long time since asari, turians, or salarians expanded into unsettled space in any official capacity,” he acknowledged.  “I’ve always admired that about humanity.  You never let comfort stop you from doing anything.”

Liara offered her a warm smile.  “You’re explorers at heart.  Since the Relay 314 Incident, everyone in the galaxy has been wondering what humanity brings to the table.  It’s this.  Tenacity, curiosity, drive…  I admit I did not truly understand before finding myself aboard the _Normandy_.”

The corner of Shepard’s mouth twitched.  “Don’t tell me you thought we were big bad bullies like the rest of them.”

“Perhaps.”  Her own lips quirked.  “The reality turned out to be far more nuanced.”

“What, you mean you don’t want to gobble up the galaxy one race at a time?” Garrus teased.  “Better not tell Udina.”

“If Garrus and Shepard are quite done sniping.”  Tali rejoined them, crossed her arms and sat back on her heels.  “Honestly if I’d wanted to listen to political arguments I would have stayed with the Migrant Fleet.”

Garrus grinned.  “Just trying to make you feel at home.”

Shepard rolled her eyes.  “You have something, Tali?”

“I think so.”  She gestured at the console controlling the hydraulics.  “If we back up pressure in the system at several key points, and overload it with very precise timing, we might be able to slam down the shuttle bay door.  It may force the ship to loosen its grasp.”

“Sounds good.  Set it up.”

“A word of warning.  There is some possibility that the ship may damage the structure of the building by hanging on as it slides off.”  Her luminous eyes blinked behind her purple-tinted mask.  “I suggest everybody stand back.”

“Will do.”  Shepard and the others retreated to the stairs, shortly joined by Tali, who had programmed the console appropriately.

She spent the next minute twisting her hands and fretting.  “I don’t know if I set everything up correctly.  I had to override several safety procedures.  And I’m not very familiar with proprietary human technology.  It’s possible that I mixed up several of the sub-“

At that moment, the door came crashing down like the fist of a god.  There was a scream of tortured metal, a shower of sparks, and suddenly the giant, severed claw was lying on the ground.

The four of them took a few seconds to reflect on that.

“Holy shit,” said Shepard succinctly.

“Damn.”  Garrus shook his head.  “That’s gotta sting-“

The ship wasn’t quite done yet.  With a slow, momentous groan of crumbling concrete, the second claw lying in the bay slid out, like the calving of a glacier, drawing a foot-deep gouge as it tore loose.  It left behind a hole in the building nearly large enough to fly through. 

There was a horrible scraping sound, and the daylight shining through the warehouse’s newest door was momentarily extinguished by the titanic slide of a slivery mass moving at some speed.  In a matter of seconds, it was gone.  Shepard counted in her head waiting for the crash, but it never came.  It was a very long way down.

Liara stared, her blue eyes nearly wide enough to see white all the way around.  “Was that… was that the geth ship?”

“Was is the key word here.”  Shepard clapped the quarian on the back.  “Good grief, Tali’Zorah.  I think you earned your keep today.”

Tali was still in shock.  Her mask swung towards Shepard and back towards the gaping hole.

Liara’s brow bunched, worried.  “I didn’t hear it hit ground.  You don’t think it recovered?”

“Probably what, a hundred-fifty meters down?”  Garrus clicked his mandibles.  “No, never.”

Shepard concurred. “That’s not nearly enough distance to recover from that kind of dive.”

Tali finally found her voice.  “Good riddance,” she said, fervently.

It was then that Shepard realized what she wasn’t seeing.  “There’s no barrier over the wall.  Looks like we were right- the ship was powering it.”

“We can finally warn Zhu’s Hope about that creature.”  Liara beamed. 

Garrus, however, was thinking along the same lines as Shepard.  “It was the geth ship?  Not Saren’s ship?”

Shepard cursed.  “Fuck.  He’s not even here, is he.  That’s why we couldn’t find his dreadnought on any of the scans.  He delegated this to the geth alone.”

“It doesn’t matter.  We have what he was after, and we got to it before his army.”

Liara shuddered.  “I dread what he planned to do with it.  I don’t want to think of someone like Saren being able to subdue minds at will.”

Something about the situation felt off to Shepard.  Her stomach was still curled up tight.  _He has an entire army already.  He’s not interested in domination, so why fixate on a mind-controlling plant?_

Though come to think of it, she hadn’t wasted much thought on his motives.  They seemed irrelevant.  What would drive anyone, regardless of how sadistic or racist, to usher in something like the reapers?  In a game of galactic destruction, Saren would lose as much as anyone.  It was senseless.

And she was wasting time.  Shepard activated her comm link.  “Shepard to _Normandy_.”

“Fucking finally!”  Joker sounded anxious.  “Commander, you’ve got to get your ass back here ASAP.  We’ve got a situation.”

“Give me the rundown.”  She was moving before he stopped talking.  Her squad, not privy to the conversation, trailed behind in confusion. 

“The colonists lost their freaking minds, is what happened.”

/\/\/\/\/\

_Earlier:_

Hana Murakami still hadn’t left the crane control terminal.  More than that, Lieutenant Alenko had been unable to approach the outlier module again, due to the increased scrutiny of the other Zhu’s Hope colonists.  It was the strangest thing.  None of them had spoken to Murakami but somehow every time he tried to get away, one of them managed to waylay him.  Once or twice he would call a coincidence, but a dozen times was a correlation.

“There is something weird going on here,” he muttered to himself.

“You’re telling me,” Wrex rumbled, his keen ears overhearing.  “This place smells wrong.  These people act wrong.  Like a pack of varren but with more brains.”

“I’m surprised at you, Wrex.  I figured after a couple centuries of merc work, you would have seen just about everything.”

“I have.  That’s why I’m worried.”  He snorted.  “If this was a regular sort of job, I would have beat tracks out of here two days ago.”

Alenko glanced at a pair of colonists guarding the hall.  They stared back.  “You think we should leave?”

“I think Shepard told us to stay put, but sometimes the situation changes.  There’s more of them than us if it comes down to it.”

The lieutenant thought about what she said, rubbed his nose and looked away.  “Actually she ordered me to protect the ship and the ground crew, and if we could defend the colony in the bargain, great.”

Wrex blinked.  There was a note of approval in his voice.  “And here I was starting to think she was some kind of idealist.”

“She keeps her priorities straight.”  He hesitated.  “She really wants to nail Saren to the wall.  It’s more than completing the mission or defending the Alliance.  I’m worried she’s becoming obsessed.” 

The krogan grunted, agreeing, and a dry grin crossed his face.  “Shepard’s found an enemy worthy of her.  It’s a good hunt.  You don’t get many like this in a lifetime.”

“That’s an… emotional way of putting it.”

“With enough training anyone can fight by the book.  And anyone can fight when they’re cornered.  But the best fights, the ones you sing about later, come between artists of the craft at the peak of their talents.  That’s Shepard and Saren.”  Wrex laughed.  “Even if I didn’t have my own bone to pick, I think I would’ve come just to watch.”

Alenko wasn’t impressed.  “If you say so.”

“You don’t have any idea.”  Wrex pointed at him.  “You really are an idealist.  You fight because you think it’s the right thing to do.  I fight because I don’t know any other way.  Fighting an unworthy enemy is like squashing a bug.  There’s no honor in it.  There’s not even any fun in it.”

He thought about.  It was uncomfortably close to feeling like truth.  Fighting geth bored Shepard.  Abduction, murder, invasion- none of it fazed her.  But Saren’s audacity, the gall of tromping over _her_ space and harming _her_ people, that got under her skin.  She spent a good deal of time trying to get inside his head, figure out how he thought, trying to guess his next move.  Hatred warred with fascination.

But that was different from what Wrex was describing, recklessly waging war for lack of anything better to do.  A hint of sarcasm entered his tone.  “I’m sorry it frustrates you.” 

Wrex sat back, adjusting his shotgun.  “You have to savor the good fights.  That’s all.”  He glanced up and his grin widened.  “And I think you like that about her.  You’ve never experienced that kind of relentless ferocity and you’re curious what it feels like.”

Alenko was spared answering when Serviceman Bakari came running up.  “Sir, you need to hear this.”

“Report.”  His brow wrinkled.  “You look excited.”

“Yes, sir.  I’ve been listening in on geth comm chatter, using Tali’s decryption program.  It’s fascinating, you know- they use a kind of inverted form of the Khouri-Chute algorithm, only it’s-“

“Maybe we can have the details another time.  What did you hear?”

Bakari refocused.  “Right.  It seems they’re retreating, sir.  Falling back.  All of them.”

Alenko blinked, taken aback.  “I guess Shepard got through.  This is better than we hoped.”

He started to raise his hand to his ear, to call out an order.  Then the two colonists at the hall abruptly went blank, their faces and body language wiped of all expression.  Their weapons drooped in their hands.

That caught Wrex’s attention.  He raised his shotgun reflexively.  “What the hell-“

Alenko’s mind flashed to the crane, and the hab module.  _This will not end well._  “Take cov-“

The colonists opened fire.

/\/\/\/\/\

“-and that’s when everything went to hell, ma’am.  You picked a bad time to go quiet.”  Joker was trying to sound casual, but relief colored every word. 

Shepard started to run, heading for the exit and the Mako.  “I need a status update.  Did the ground crew make it to the ship?”

“They regrouped and made a full retreat.  Bakari and two of the marines were injured.  Chakwas is patching them up, but it’s going slow, on account of her wrist getting all smashed up.”

“What?  How?”

“That colonist we were keeping in the med bay?  David?  Yeah, he kind of went crazy.  She managed to lock him in Liara’s lab.”

“Get Khaledi and Crosby to help her.  They’ve got battlefield first responder training.”  There was flight of stairs.  She sat on the smooth concrete guard wall and slid down, to pick up a little speed, and hit the bottom running.  “Is the ship secure?”

“Well, the colonists followed the ground team back, and now they’re beating on the hull with their hands, rifle butts, whatever’s available, barbarian-style.  Occasionally shoot at us.  You know, standard sticks and stones stuff.”  It would be funny in other circumstances.

“Well, they can’t do any real damage.  Don’t hurt them if you can avoid it.  This isn’t their fault.”

“Sure, Commander- it’s not like they’ve been drinking the special kool-aid or anything.”  Joker was in disbelief.  “They’re nuts and they’re shooting at us.”

“I’m not kidding.  There’s a life form on this planet that’s turning them into mind slaves, and now that the geth are leaving, it wants us dead.  That’s what ExoGeni was hiding.  That’s what Saren wanted.”  She hurried through the exit and splashed along the tunnel where they found Lizbeth.  “We’re going to take a shuttle back just as soon as I can find someone to fly it.  Hold position.  Shepard out.”

Garrus grabbed her arm.  “Shepard, what the hell is going on?”

“Once we knocked out the geth ship, I think the thorian decided the best way to wrap up this mess was to kill the last of the witnesses.  Everyone made it out but the situation is deteriorating rapidly.”

Liara volunteered, “I can fly a shuttle.”

“Great.  Do you know the launch codes that will release it from the electromagnetic clamps?”

“Well, no.”

“There’s no time to hack it.  ExoGeni’s running a cheap-ass tech mill using labor bought with a pack of lies, and that’s exactly why the equipment that might conceivably get someone out of this hellhole will be locked down tight.  And there’s no time to take the Mako back over that sorry excuse for a road.”

They made it up out of the tunnels and located the Mako.  Shepard waited impatiently for it to power up before throwing it in gear and peeling down the ramp.  Against all logic, this model of tank liked to bounce, and the ceiling wasn’t that high.  It took concentration to keep it from banging against the roof, which was quite irritating, as it kept her from fully enumerating the ways she was going to twist these ExoGeni bastards into pretzels.  _They lied to me to hide a dangerous discovery and the breaking of about three dozen colonial AND galactic laws, they used the colonists they promised a new start as test subjects, and my crew got caught in the crossfire._

She hadn’t asked Joker about the severity of the injuries.  This was largely because she suspected she would need Jeong alive for at least the next twenty minutes.

The Mako slammed to a stop and she jumped out.  It caught her squad by surprise and they fumbled after, trying to follow.  Shepard didn’t bother to wait.  Jeong had the security team back at their posts.  The guards half-heartedly raised their weapons as she stalked down the ramp.

“You need to stop right there, Commander,” Kelm ordered.  The security chief didn’t sound very sure of himself. 

Shepard flashed him a glare that should have left him a smoking ash imprint on the far wall.  “If you want me to stop, I dare you to try.”

Kelm weighed ExoGeni’s ability to make his life difficult in the long term against Shepard’s promise to make it difficult in the extreme short term, and made the wiser choice.  He stepped to the side and saluted smartly.  “No, ma’am.”

“Where the fuck is Jeong?”

The tiny middle-manager was standing in the middle of the garage, pale and sweating, waving his gun wildly every time the other refugees so much as twitched.  They were clustered together in a far corner.  Juliana Baynham was standing at the forefront with a look of absolute iron, cautious, but not at all cowed by Jeong’s display.  Lizbeth, equally pale, stood just behind her.  She swallowed as Shepard came into view.

“Everyone just shut up!  Stay where you are!”  Jeong whirled on the spot and leveled the gun at the commander.  “I suppose it was too much to hope the geth would kill you.”

Shepard didn’t even break stride.  To his credit, he got off one shot before she reached him.  It ricocheted off her shields and buried itself in a crossbeam.  As with Greta, she grabbed the offending arm and pulled it tight behind his back, but unlike the colonist, she didn’t bother to check herself when she felt resistance.  “You son of a bitch.”

The bone snapped with a crack louder than his pistol report.  Jeong gagged at the sudden pain, dropping the gun instantly.  Shepard kicked it away. 

Garrus caught up, finally, his rifle leveled on the ExoGeni auditor.  “You want to maybe fill us in on the strategy, next time?”

“You broke my arm!”  Jeong’s voice was several octaves higher than normal.  He staggered away from her, clutching the damaged limb, staring at her like she was a vengeful ghost.  “You crazy bitch!  You broke my arm!”

“You lied to me, Jeong.  And you shot at me.  That was a very poor decision.”

“We were waiting for instructions from corporate.”  He managed to straighten, finding the last of his dignity.  “Which we finally received, once that barrier came down.”

Juliana could no longer hold her tongue.  “Commander, they ordered him to purge the colony!”

A bad taste filled Shepard’s mouth.  “What exactly do they mean, purge?”

Jeong wheezed and put a little more distance between them.  “We don’t have any other choice.  Two seconds after you’re out of here you’re going to call in the navy-“

“Already done,” Shepard said smugly.  It was the first thing they did after wrecking the jamming tower at Zhu’s Hope.

“-and someone has to look out for the company.  ExoGeni keeps us all alive.  We must act in the interests of the majority.”  His tone became pleading.  “If that… thing is still here when they come-“

“You mean the best interests of your shareholders,” Shepard snarled, drawing back her arm. 

Liara grabbed at it.  “Shepard, think.  We need him.”

“He can’t help us if you cave in his skull,” Garrus reasoned, looking over at the shuddering man.  “No matter how richly he deserves it.”

Juliana glanced between them.  “What are you talking about?  What ‘thing’?”

Shepard addressed Jeong with acid sweetness.  “Are you going to tell them about the thorian, or shall I?”

Jeong’s face was a caricature of fury.  He muttered something darkly.

Lizbeth twisted her hands.  “There’s… there’s a telepathic plant living underneath Zhu’s Hope.  It releases spores into the air that cause exposed animal life forms to become slaves to its will.  Almost all of Zhu’s Hope is infected.”

Juliana’s mouth dropped open.  Jeong, however, had no problem finding his tongue.  He shook his finger at her.  “That’s _proprietary company information_.  Corporate will have your head for this.”

Shepard took a deep breath.  “There’s not going to be any purging.  You made those colonists what they are, and you’re going to live with it for as long as it lasts.”

“I’m afraid that’s unacceptable.”

“Damn it, Jeong, people are hurt.  This isn’t company politics.”  She glanced around the room.  “If even one person on this godforsaken planet had been honest with me, this would have been over days ago.”

“Not all of us knew about this… creature,” Juliana stated, with an annoyed look at her daughter.

Lizbeth exhaled.  “You don’t know what it was like.  ExoGeni was breathing down the necks of everyone working on the project.  Anyone who wasn’t delivering results, anyone who was violating procedure, was deliberately infected.  Nobody wanted to be next.”

Shepard gestured around the garage.  “Do you see ExoGeni here, Lizbeth?  Or do you just see a bunch of frightened people who’ve watched their home overrun by machines?”

The young woman swallowed and looked away. 

“I can’t allow the thorian to survive, Commander.”  Jeong found some semblance of calm.  “If the Alliance knew the full extent of what we did, everyone here would be liable.  This isn’t ExoGeni’s only colony, and those people are depending on the money continuing to flow.  You might not like ExoGeni, but they do look out for us, in their own way.”

“Tell them the geth killed the thorian.” 

He shook his head.  “Won’t work.  People are still being exposed to the spores.”

Slowly, Lizbeth said, “If the primary… node were destroyed, it’s possible the other, lesser nodes would wither and die.  No more spores.”

“Or one of them could develop into a new primary node,” Jeong shot back.

Shepard overrode him.  “It’s worth a try.  I need a shuttle pilot if I’m going to make it back to the spaceport and take this thing out.”

Jeong took a step towards her.  “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

That was the moment when, for the first time, he experienced the full weight of Shepard’s pointed gaze, with every ounce of every hopeless mission she’d seen through poured into it.  Each awful memory, each unforgettable image, all the experience, determination, and sheer ungodly stubbornness that made her Commander Shepard fell on the auditor.  It pinned Jeong to the air like the corporate cockroach he was. 

Aloud, she merely said, quite calmly, “You’re a bean-counter.  I’m a spectre, and you’re getting in my way.  Tell me, how do you like those odds?”

The blood ran out of his face.  He took a step back, stumbling into Juliana.

Her eyes lingered on him another long second, before lowering the wattage of her expression and turning to the refugees.  “I need a shuttle pilot.”

“I’ll do it.”  Lizbeth’s voice shook a little, but her face was determined.  “It was my job to look after their safety.  I used to fly over there all the time.”

“Why aren’t you infected, then?”

“Prophylactic anti-fungal treatments.”  Her nervous smile was fleeting and humorless.  “Please.  I want to help them, if I can.”

“Alright.”  Shepard looked around.  “The rest of you, stay put.  We crashed the geth ship, but there may still be patrols out.  Be ready for anything.”

Garrus cleared his throat.  “Are you planning to stop at the _Normandy_?”

“That’s where the shuttle docks, and I’m going to need some of the ordnance we have aboard to kill this thing,” she confirmed. 

“In that case, I’d like to stay back.  There’s no room for five in the Mako.  Four was stretching things already.  Besides, these people could use some real protection.”

She frowned.  He had a point, but they were split up enough already.  “Fine.  If our auditor here tries to pull another hostage crisis, shoot him.”

He grinned.  “With pleasure.”

Tali also volunteered.  “I’ll stay back as well.  I doubt the thorian is going to have any fancy electronics anyway.”

Shepard nodded.  “Liara, Lizbeth, you’re with me.  Let’s go.”

/\/\/\/\/\

They hurried down into the shuttle bay.  Lizbeth flitted around the room, flipping on terminals and ordering the VI to reroute power resources when necessary.  When the VI objected that Lizbeth lacked the relevant authorizations, Shepard was chagrined to hear the young scientist simply declare “emergency protocols” to be in effect. 

“That would have been useful an hour ago,” she said.

“There wasn’t enough time to explain everything.”  Lizbeth began entering commands.  “I have to hard restart all the systems.  I’m sorry, this may take a while.”

“My crew’s been Zhu’s Hope well over a week, you know.  I understand them not telling us, because they’re under thorian control, but allowing this continue?  Not owning up when I finally got to this end of the colony?  That’s inexcusable.”  She shook her head, disgusted.  “I suppose after all that it was too much to hope you might be able to launch one measly shuttle in a reasonable amount of time.”

Lizbeth glared.  “That’s not fair.  I’m doing the best I can.”

Shepard crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, considering her for a moment that stretched into discomfort.  Abruptly, she said, “I’ve been told I expect too much of people.”

“Too damn true,” Lizbeth muttered, pecking away at the terminal.

Liara bit her lip.  “You drive people to be their best.  That’s your job.”

Shepard continued as if she hadn’t heard either of them.  “If you ask me, most people expect too little of each other.  It’s a sad day when the bar’s dropped to ‘refuses to collude with the enslavement of others’, and there’s the expectation of a gold star for effort when even that abysmal standard is not met.”

Lizbeth spoke with cold fury.  “I looked you up, while we were waiting for you to return.  You’re a special forces commando.  You can’t tell me you’ve never been ordered to withhold information for the good the Alliance.”

“Never information that would harm innocent human beings.”

“I stayed behind, you know.”  Lizbeth sounded quite put out.  “I tried to alert Colonial Affairs but the geth cut the power first.”

“Our little hero.”  Shepard was not impressed.  “The time to call Colonial Affairs was when ExoGeni started exploiting colonists without consent to study a dangerous alien life form.  Forget Systems Alliance law.  This is a matter of Council sanctions.”

Lizbeth fell silent, faintly red-cheeked and not without a slight air of shame. 

Liara walked over to Shepard and started to lay a hand on her shoulder, reassuringly, an attempt to cool the temperature, but Shepard flinched away.  “Don’t.”

Hurt flashed across the asari’s face.  Seeing it stung more than it should.  Angry with herself, Shepard pushed off the wall and found another console, deciding that if they were going to be stuck here awhile, she could at least raid the ExoGeni data banks.  She started with exports.

Unsurprisingly, most of the entries fed back into other ExoGeni sites.  However, once she filtered those out, she made an unexpected discovery.  There were a number of invoices bearing the same orange-and-black hexagon logo she spotted on the transmitter on Edolus.  Shepard opened one at random.

_Dr. Gamorle,_

_We require a new batch of samples.  The previous shipment proved inadequate.  Most specimens never awoke from hibernation and the remainder is not sufficient for a proper study. We may be able to harness Species 37’s unique capabilities, but only with your full cooperation.  Naturally, our data exchange remains in effect, as negotiated in our contract._

_I will also take this opportunity to remind you that Cerberus research is held to a very high standard, and we have expended a hefty sum of credits on your discovery.  We select our business partners quite carefully.  It would be unwise to give our leadership cause to doubt this investment._

_Sincerely,_

_Dr. Cynthia Wayne_

Following that was a message from Gamorle expressing doubt in the arrangement.  He felt it would have been wiser to wait until ExoGeni synthesized an antidote before selling thorian samples.  ExoGeni evidently disagreed, as the response took the form a reprimand and clear instructions to proceed.  Shepard copied all of it to her omni-tool.

They called themselves Cerberus.  She’d never heard of them.  They certainly liked sounding the cloak-and-dagger variety of darkness, but Shepard had a hard time picturing a criminal ring of scientists luring an Alliance ship into a fatal trap.  Some pieces were still missing.

And then there was the signatory, Dr. Wayne.  The name was vaguely familiar.

“Ready,” Lizbeth called out.  The door of the closest shuttle swung up as the vehicle rose on its stabilizers, prepared for launch.

The scientist, the archaeologist, and the commander climbed aboard.  Lizbeth took the pilot’s seat, scanning her instrumentation and making the necessary adjustments.  Liara took the co-pilot couch while Shepard stood behind, leaning over her shoulder.  “Get me the _Normandy_.  We need to figure out how this is going to work.”

“Right away.”  Liara flipped the comm switch and found the correct frequency. 

Lowe came on the line.  “This is the _SSV Normandy,_ identify.”

“Specialist Lowe, this is Commander Shepard.  I’m on a shuttle headed back to Zhu’s Hope as we speak.  Please have Navigator Pressly and Lieutenant Alenko join me in the comm room.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.  Transferring now.”

Shepard paced the rear of the shuttle as she waited.  Meanwhile, Lizbeth got them in the air and set a direct course back to the spaceport.  The disastrous Skyway flowed smoothly beneath them.  _Why the hell does the Alliance equip frigates with tanks instead of shuttles?  This is so much simpler._

The comm crackled.  “This is Pressly.  Are you there, ma’am?”

She turned her attention back to the mission.  “Copy that.  How bad are things down there?”

“Bakari’s in critical condition.  The doc thinks the other two should be back on their feet in a few days.  I still don’t know what to make of Talaqani.  He’s beating himself against the hatch, trying to get out.”

“Nothing we can do about that now.  The plan is to kill the plant that’s at the root of all this.”  Shepard cursed the unintentional pun, and cleared her throat.  “Which brings me to my next point.  Lieutenant, are you there?”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Alenko’s voice crackled over the line. 

Shepard suppressed her sudden and completely unexpected relief at hearing it.  She cleared her throat a second time and laid out her idea, sketchy as it was.  “The colonists are distracted by the thorian’s commands to kill all of you.  It must be angry, because they’re not going about this intelligently at all.  I think we can slip a team into Zhu’s Hope.”

“There’s not enough room in this dock to pull up to the cargo bay, which only leaves the airlock,” Pressly protested.  “And the colonists are right outside.”

“With due respect, sir, that’s not entirely accurate,” Alenko countered.  “There are maintenance hatches at several points along the fuselage.  They’re not supposed to be opened- or even accessible- unless the ship is in dry dock.”

Shepard was pleased.  “There should be one going out the back near the entrance to the med bay.”

Pressly had reservations.  “Commander, those hatches are restricted because they expose the space between the inner and outer hulls.  There’s all kinds of nasty materials in there to protect us from vacuum, radiation, and the byproducts of our own systems, not to mention the structures supporting the IES.”

“We’re in atmo, so the hazards should be minimal.  Get engineering to help.”  Shepard moved along to the next phase of the plan.  “Our pilot will hover on the far side of the ship, and an infiltration team will board.  We’ll set down in Zhu’s Hope, find the exact location of this zombie plant thing, and take it down.”

“I can help you with one of those.”  Alenko coughed.  “I’m reasonably certain they’re hiding the entrance leading to the thorian under a hab module.  It doesn’t connect to anything and they left it under guard.  Took me awhile to catch on, but once I figured it out, they wouldn’t let me near it.”

“Good work.  We’ll try that first.”  Shepard leaned against Liara’s couch, folding her arms.  “Pick who you want for the team.  Not too many.  I want a good-sized force left behind in case the colonists do find a way to board the ship.  I don’t want to hurt them, but I damn well will if they threaten any more of us.”

Pressly made a sound of concurrence.  “Understood, ma’am.”

“Lieutenant?”

“I’m on board.  Do we know what we’re up against?”

“Other than its powers of influence, no.  But there are a few things I want you to collect.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Adams’ engineers located the necessary maintenance hatch in short order.  Unfortunately, it was not a straight shoot to the outer hull.  Adams himself squeezed through the hatch and worked his way down the narrow space until he found the exit.  “We’ve got a problem, Commander.”

Shepard glanced at Lizbeth’s instruments.  Their ETA was less than five minutes.  “What kind of problem?”

“There’s not enough room to maneuver in here to open the outer hatch from this side.  We’ve already had to deactivate cooling and the kinetic barriers to make this safe.  The ship can’t stay fully powered like this for long without accruing damage.”

“Roger that.  We’re a few minutes out.  What do we need to open the hatch?”

“A wrench, for starters.”

“Where am I going to get a wrench on a-“

“There’s an emergency maintenance kit in the passenger compartment,” Lizbeth interjected.  “Under the seat.”

Shepard located the toolkit and hauled it out, raising her voice to reach the comm from the shuttle’s rear.  “Next question.  How do we know where to park if the door’s shut?”

“I’m attaching a homing device to the inside of the hatch.  Your shuttle ladar should pick it up.”

A bright dot appeared on Liara’s screen, overlapping the bulk of the _Normandy_.  “Got it.”

“Godspeed, Commander.  Adams out.”

Shepard turned her attention to Lizbeth.  “Go in as smoothly and discreetly as possible.  Use the ship to hide us.  We can’t afford to capture the colonists’ attention.”

The young woman nodded and eased them forward.  Sweat beaded on her brow.  Lizbeth was intensely out of her element.  Shepard’s eyes rose from the instrumentation to the shuttle window, watching as they turned into the docking bay.  “Easy does it… little further…  there.  Stop.”

The wash from the shuttle’s stabilizers brushed the paint of the _SSV Normandy_ with gentle efficiency, polishing off the dust and leaving a fan-shaped spread so porcelain white that it made the rest of the ship look filthy in comparison.  Shepard couldn’t suppress a wince.  _She sure as hell doesn’t look new anymore._

Lizbeth popped the side door and Shepard leaned out the side of the compartment, Liara hovering nervously at her elbow.  It only took a few moments to locate the frame of the hatch and the bolt that secured it.  Shepard scraped at the cover, trying to expose the bolt, but it was wedged shut and she was forced to abuse the wrench as a crowbar to pop it open.  The bolt similarly required several muscle-aching yanks before she felt it start to give.

The maintenance hatch popped open with a hiss of equalizing pressures.  It was less than half the size of a standard hatch, a bit of a squeeze to fit through.  None the less, she was nonplussed to find a lumpy plastic bag staring up at her when the door swung clear.

Alenko leaned into the frame.  “It’s pretty tight in here, ma’am.  We could fit us or the gear but not both at the same time.  Catch.”

He tossed the bag at her.  She caught it and hauled it inside.  Alenko followed, hauling a hard trunk the size of a carry-on suitcase behind him.  After him came Gunnery Chief Williams and Corporal Greico.  Once they were on board, Shepard secured the hatch and gave Lizbeth a nod.  “Take us out.  If it looks clear, set us down in the shipping yard.”

“Understood.”  The shuttle pulled away from the _Normandy_.

Alenko squatted and ripped into the bag, revealing a jumble of hardsuit pieces.  He passed them to their owners and they began suiting up.  Shepard prodded the case with her boot.  “These are my mines?”

“Remote detonation, just like you asked.”  He locked his glove into place.  “Commander, what exactly are you expecting to find under Zhu’s Hope?”

She opened the case to double-check the munitions.  “I’m not sure.  Some kind of large spongy mass of sentient plant matter.”

Lizbeth looked over her shoulder.  “We’re not certain the thorian has the capacity for higher reasoning.”

“Until we know better, we’re going to go with the worst-case assumption.”  Shepard took out several charges and clipped them to her belt, keeping the detonators separate, and passed the remainder to the lieutenant.

Williams was cocky, as usual.  “It’s a plant.  It needs to turn people into robots to get anything done.  It’s not like it’s going to fight back.”

Liara leaned back in the co-pilot couch, folding her arms over her stomach.  “How old must a creature this large be?  It could have been a sapling when Feros was inhabited by the Prothean Empire.”

Lizbeth bit her lip.  “Some of the oldest fibrous samples we’ve taken indicate it may be much older than that.  It could have controlled the Prothean settlers in a similar manner.”

“That’s impossible.  The Protheans would have quarantined the whole planet.  Wouldn’t anyone?”

Shepard shrugged.  “Look around, Liara.  Does Feros look like it was a shining example of Prothean colonization, or does it look like as much of a backwater as it is now?”

“More developed, perhaps.”  Liara was wearing one of her earnest frowns, deliberating.  “I will admit it does not seem as though the Protheans gave any attention to detail on this world.  Everything is so… plain and functional.”

Alenko leaned towards the window.  “Shepard, I think we’re coming up on Zhu’s Hope now.”

Williams, too, craned her neck to get a look.  “The place looks abandoned.”

“It’s a good sign, but don’t take anything for granted.”  Shepard checked her gun and made her way to the hatch. 

The chief glanced her way.  “Why try to kill us, ma’am?  Hell, everything we did protected this plant thing as much as the colonists.  Where’s the gratitude?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe after facing the geth it decided all of us are just too much trouble.”  She gave her a weary half-smile.  “Doesn’t matter.  We’re going to destroy it.  Saren won’t be able to exploit its abilities.”

The shuttle settled in the middle of the yard.  The marines disembarked, sweeping the area for any lingering colonists.  As Shepard made to follow, Lizbeth suddenly turned around in her seat and snagged her hand. 

Shepard frowned.  “What is it?”

“There’s more,” she said, conflicted but urgent.  “I couldn’t say back at HQ.  The thorian creates seedlings of a sort, mobile bundles of fibrous tissue about the size of an adult human when they’re… unfurled.”

“Unfurled?” 

“We call them creepers.  We’ve only ever found them in a stasis.  They ball up on the ground near thorian offshoots, almost like seed pods.  I have no idea if they’ve woken, but…”

“It could be trouble,” Shepard finished.  She regarded the woman for several seconds.  “Thank you for warning me.”

Lizbeth gave a curt nod and withdrew her hand.  “I understand why you don’t believe me, but every choice I’ve made was my best effort to protect the colony- from everyone.  I’m not going to apologize for it.”

Then Shepard did smile, full and genuine.  “Good for you.”

Lizbeth nodded again, her face ever-so-slightly pink.  “I’m going to barricade myself in the shuttle.  I’ll keep it running.”

Shepard moved into the shipping yard and found the crane terminal.  It was easy to spot the misplaced module- it still had the lift ties fixed to the roof.  The only mystery was how they didn’t notice it sooner. 

She had just hooked the hoist line into place when she caught a shuffle of movement out of the corner of her eye.  Her hand went to her pistol on autopilot, drawing smoothly as she turned.

Fai Dan shambled towards her.  One of his legs was dragging, as though he’d been injured, and a sidearm dangled in his left hand. 

“Commander,” he said weakly, coughing.

She kept her pistol trained on the colonist, but held her fire.  “Why aren’t you with the rest?”

“I tried to fight it, you know.”  He flinched, and swallowed, tightly.  Every muscle in his face was pulled taut.  “It gets in your head.  You can’t imagine the pain.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Fai Dan.”  She moved her other hand to brace her gun and took a step to the side, keeping him in her sights.  Behind him, she saw Alenko come out from behind the hab, his own pistol also raised.

“I was their leader.  They trusted me.”  The old man coughed again.  “It wants me to kill you.”

The gun swung up in his hand.  Shepard tensed, her finger pulling on the trigger, no quite enough to fire. 

Fai Dan’s right hand rose with infinite slowness and wrapped around the barrel.  A vein throbbed in his forehead.  In the background, Alenko moved closer, steadily, not fast enough to catch his attention.  Shepard kept her eyes on the colonist.

“But I won’t,” he said, softly, almost too much so to hear him.  With his right hand he forced the gun upwards until it touched his temple.  The angle was awkward, but more than sufficient to atomize most of his brain.  “I won’t.”

Fai Dan heaved a sigh and closed his eyes.

Shepard adjusted her aim by a fraction as swiftly as she could, meaning to stop him, but not soon enough.  A look of intense peace came over his face, a half-second before it vanished in a shower of gore.

She eased the tension on her trigger and blew out a sigh of her own.  “Damn it.”

Alenko came running.  “Are you alright, ma’am?”

“I’m fine.”

Williams, hearing the shot, hurried from the other direction with Greico and Liara in tow.  She stopped short when she saw the corpse.  “We’re clear.  Jesus Christ.”

Shepard turned back to the terminal, entering her commands with a bit more force than necessary.  “He made a choice.  I daresay, of the options available, it was not a poor one.”

There was little to say to that.  Williams located a blanket in the shipwreck and draped it over the body.  She might have whispered a shred of prayer; it was difficult to tell.

Meanwhile, Shepard continued to work the crane.  The apparently empty module lifted clear with ease, revealing a staircase leading down into the ruins.  Unlike the rest of Feros, it was scrubbed clean.  There was no sign of debris or decay. 

Alenko made the same observation.  “They were tending to it.”

“I’m sure it had everything an overgrown toadstool could want out of life.”  Shepard maneuvered the hab to a clear spot in the yard and unhooked the crane, to make it more difficult for anyone to seal the exit behind them.  “Let’s go give it the happy ending it deserves.”

She turned and addressed her team.  “Williams and Greico, stay topside and guard these stairs.  We’re going in.”

Williams groaned.  “Aww, c’mon ma’am, there’s nothing up here-“

“I believe I gave you an order, Chief.”  Shepard’s tone was solid iron.  “We’ve received information that the thorian may have other units available to mobilize.  I’m not going to be attacked aft and fore at the same time.  Understood?”

The chief opened her mouth.  Shepard raised an eyebrow.  Williams swallowed.  “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”  She jerked her head at Alenko and Liara.  “Let’s go.”

The stairs wound down beneath the artificial skin of the world-city, well below where Shepard would have gauged the natural level of the ground.  The temperature stabilized to a pleasant basement cool compared to the heat of the surface.  The way was well-lit.  The colonists of Zhu’s Hope lavished care on this place they had not given their own home, much less anywhere else.  The staircase leveled out into a long, narrow hallway strung with utility lights, creaking with the weight of the structure above.  Otherwise it was utterly silent.  No signs of debris or decay graced its walls; indeed, even the faint cracks one would expect as the minimum toll of fifty thousand years’ neglect were carefully stopped up with reparative compounds and painted over a uniform shade of gray.

Liara shuddered as another settling groan echoed through the building.  “This place will live on in my nightmares.”

“Who knew something this bright and sterile could be nightmarish?”  Alenko kept his pistol drawn. 

“It’s just a hallway,” Shepard protested.

Alenko jumped slightly as a distant drip of water echoed against the walls.  “Not going to lie, Commander, this place is freaking me out.”

She was exasperated.  “It’s a single, simple, damned-“

The words died in her mouth as they entered a vaulting chamber, at least five stories high, and were confronted with the true, horrific majesty of the thorian.

“-plant,” Shepard finished lamely, staring up at it.  “We’re going to need bigger guns.”

“That’s why we brought the mines, ma’am.”

It was a vomit-green ranging to olive in more shadowed places, a bulky, pulsing mass suspended within the room by ten long, vine-like appendages disappearing into higher side rooms.  Each floor was exposed to the central chamber with scarcely a guard rail for safety.  The plant was teardrop-shaped and had no true eyes that Shepard could see, though soft bronze-touched indents near the low-hanging taper gave the impression of ocular sensitivity.  The tip of the teardrop curved ever so slightly towards them, dangling a mass of slimy, draping vines over the platform on which they stood.  The remainder of the creature hung over an abyss that vanished into darkness long before showing any sign of a floor.

The three of them approached with caution.  Shepard could not imagine something that large would move easily, but there was no sense in being reckless. 

The plant stirred.  There was a gurgling noise, followed by a slithering sound of slime against slime, and a slight form dropped from the wreath of tentacles onto the platform.

“Oh, goddess,” Liara breathed, stepping back, as the creature slowly uncurled with almost boneless grace.

It was a green-skinned asari, with over-large pupils and facial markings to match.  She was clad in tight-fighting black commando armor, recognizable by the brown buckles running from groin to neck.  Her head straightened and she regarded them steadily.  There was something faintly speculative in her eyes.  “I speak for the old growth, as I spoke for Saren.  The creature before you has endured the long cycle and longer still, centuries beyond counting.  You should be in awe.”

Alenko trained his gun on her, glancing at Shepard for instructions.  She wasn’t certain she had any to give.  This was an unexpected curveball.  _Saren was here.  When he was done he left this woman as a captive, along with a garrison of geth to destroy the thorian.  Why?_

And then, slightly amused.  _I guess the thorian was more than a match for the geth.  It used the colonists to outmaneuver their patrols._

Behind her, however, Liara took a tentative step forward.  She sounded confused.  “Shiala?”

The asari’s eyes drifted to the archaeologist for a fractional second, but soon refocused on the task at hand.  “Speak.  Why have you come here?”

Shepard kept her gaze fixed on the thorian itself.  The asari was obviously a puppet.  “I want what Saren wanted.  Give it to me, call off your attack on my ship, and we will depart in peace.”

“The air you push is lies, ones we have heard before.”  Her green eyes flashed with anger.  “The old growth senses you are meat, fit only to consume.  We will hear no more.”

The attack came without warning.  Shepard had a vague recollection of the asari flinging out her hand before the back of her head collided with the wall and she was shaking stars out of her vision.  Alenko responded in kind, tossing the commando back against her thorian master.  Liara threw up a singularity that pulled her away from the plant and into empty space. 

Shepard shot at the asari puppet, but between having her bells rung for the second time in a week and the way the asari was bobbing around in the grip of the mass effect field, the shots went wide.  The fungal mass of the thorian simply absorbed them, like a sponge taking on water.  She was heartily glad they brought explosives.

She shook off the blow and scrambled to her feet.  “Come on.  When the field gives out, she’s done for.  It’s a long way down.  We’ve got to finish this.”

They headed for the stairs to the second level at a dead run.  Skittering echoed down the stairwell, like thin, stiff strips dragged across concrete, but they saw nothing.  They did, however, pass a number of wicker-wood objects the size of beach balls that one could interpret as humanoids curled in a fetal position, if that was what one wanted to see.  Shepard noted their presence, but filed it under the growing pile of troubling things that for the moment she could do nothing about.

They found the first node as they rounded the top of the stairs, anchoring one long thick vine.  It was bulbous and almost fleshy, maybe two meters across, and a shade of peachy orange that made it seem more like animal flesh than plant matter.  Shepard pulled a knife from her boot and slashed a deep gouge.  It was warm, like compost, and there was no describing the stench.  The nearest approximation in her experience was a stopped-up shower drain full of rotten hair.

The skittering grew louder.  “Do something about that, would you?”

Alenko moved past her, up the hallway.  Shepard pulled the brick of explosive compound and a detonator from her belt, connected the two by rote memory, and keyed it to her omni-tool.  The whole package was shoved elbow-deep into the node.  “Well, that’s one.”

There was a brief buzzing in her head and shots rang out down the hall.  She raced to assist.

A solid half-dozen woody assailants pressed them back.  They were the size of human adults, and were bipedal and bilaterally symmetric, but that was where the real similarities ended.  Their limbs terminated in a lengthy tangle of branches, lethally sharp, and their sightless oval heads twisted to and fro on spindly necks.  Liara and Alenko’s biotics were holding them back, but wherever bullet or warp ripped a hole in the creatures’ bodies, acrid green fluid bubbled out onto the floor.

Wherever it fell, it ate miniature craters into the concrete.  Shepard groaned.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Whatever they were made of, it was exceptionally brittle.  Two sweeps of her rifle destroyed their legs and covered the ground in slick, smoking acid.  They thrashed on the floor.  Another couple of bursts and everything went still and quiet, save for the slow hiss of the creepers’ dissolution by their own internal fluids.

Shepard took a breath.  “Ok.  We want to stay away from the creepy acid-spewing woodmen.  Noted.”

Alenko checked his heat sink.  “This planet just keeps getting better and better.”

Liara rubbed her neck.  “I think I see another node ahead.”

“No choice but to keep going.”  Shepard took a breath.  “Try to toss them over the banister if you can.  Punching holes in them should be a last resort.  Move out.”

The second explosive went in as smoothly as the first.  Shepard’s arm was caked almost to the shoulder in thorian goop.  She was already looking forward to a shower the way sailors longed for dry land.

Another wave of creepers hit just as she was withdrawing her hand.  True to her instructions, her squad attempted to herd them out over the pit with the use of their biotics.  Shepard, having no such capability, took a more direct approach.  She barreled into the nearest creeper and lifted it off its feet.

The creatures weighed nearly nothing, as flimsy and dry as a pile of autumn leaves.  Those long claws, however, were razor sharp.  They left scratches where they scraped across her armor plating.  The hard suit protected her from the worst of the damage, but as she pitched it over the edge, one of its fingers caught in the webbing.  She was forced to tear it loose. 

The bereft finger twitched once before going still, stiffening as it died.  She prised it out with a grunt of irritation.  Another one flew at her and she used its own wild rush to help it over the edge.  When the dust settled, she realized there were still four of the things curled up on the floor.  Waiting.

Shepard tried to pick one up, but for all its lightness, it might as well have been bolted to the ground.  She stood back and attempted to shoot it, but apparently hibernation hardened their structure because the only result was a shower of wood chips.  _Great.  Just great._

Lacking other options, they continued up the structure in the same manner, stuffing the nodes supporting the inert thorian with ordnance and fighting off creepers from front and back.  Shepard was arming the eighth node in a moment of relative calm when she saw Liara suddenly stiffen.  “What-“

She turned on the spot, just in time to see the green-skinned asari commando float over the guard wall in a bubble of blue light and land lightly on her toes.  Her face was full of malice.  “We see what you plan.  The seedlings have done little to stop you, but it is of no concern.  Your flesh will feed the new growth to come.”

Shepard was ready for it this time.  She raised her rifle and held down the trigger, forcing the asari to sacrifice her attack in favor of a barrier against the barrage.  The others joined her.  Under the steady stream of gunfire, the commando’s strength was fading fast.  She ducked around a corner.

The immediate attack as they gave pursuit was expected.  What was not anticipated, however, was Liara’s counterattack meeting it in midair and causing a titanic explosion that left them all scattered on the floor.

Shepard found her feet and gave herself a quick evaluation.  Nothing seemed broken.  She leaned down to help Liara up.  “What in the hell was that?”

“I readied an attack.  There was no time to adjust for her choices.”

That was clear as mud.  “Let’s pretend I’m not an asari biotic.”

“It’s a mess of poorly understood dark energy theory and wave mechanics,” Alenko said.  “The important part is some biotic effects interfere with each other.  A barrier can neutralize another biotic attack, for example, or in a different case…”

“Cause an explosion.  Right.” 

He nodded.  “It’s not all that different from overloading an eezo core, except in the scale.”

Liara blinked.  “I’m surprised you didn’t know.  This is considered very basic tactics within the asari military.”

Shepard went to check the stairs.  The commando was crumpled at the bottom, not moving.  She fired two bullets into her back just to be sure.  “We’ve only had our own enlisted biotics for less than fifteen years, and not many of them.  Officer training hasn’t really caught up yet.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Alenko muttered under his breath.

Shepard rolled her eyes at the both of them.  “I’m learning as fast as I can, ok?  It helps when you point out facts like ‘can create massive detonation when combined in the correct order’.”

Alenko snorted.  “I think there’s only two or three more nodes left, ma’am.”

“Let’s blow this place and get the hell out.”

Five stories up, they finished rigging the last of the explosives.  Shepard took one last long look at the thorian.  It had less than zero mobility, but she swore it was glaring up at her with the kind of relentless hatred only a creature dozens of millennia old could muster. 

She stared back, recalling the colonists fighting the geth, ragged, worn, and not altogether there.  Ian screaming in punishment for attempting to communicate basic intel.  Lizbeth shaking in the corridors of ExoGeni, trying to find the right actions in an impossible situation.  Fai Dan with a gun to his head. 

Just as easily, she could imagine Bakari lying on one of Chakwas’ operating tables, cut open, while she labored to close his wounds with a hand that wouldn’t work properly, while all the while a crazed colonist threw himself at the hatch, regular meaty thuds punctuating the delicate surgery.

A soft growl rose in her throat as she looked down, more promise than threat.  “I’ll see you in hell.”

Liara called from the back hall.  “Shepard, everything’s ready.  We’re just waiting on you.”

“Coming.”  She spat and turned away, making for the stairwell.  It would provide some shelter from the catastrophe that was about to take place.  The structure was old; Shepard had no idea what would bring it down, but she was about to set off ten charges.  Common sense said to stand back from the fragile balconies.

They huddled together over the corpse of Saren’s henchman.  Shepard activated the detonators.

She thought it would be louder.  It was plenty noisy, but not blow-out-her-eardrums loud.  Each explosion was punctuated by a wet, pulpy pop.  There was a straining groan, as the tension in the vines struggled against gravity, and then a number of snapping sounds as gravity won.  Slow at first, and then in rapid staccato as the plant’s weight dragged on the remaining supports.  The thorian dropped with a whoosh of air, whistling down into the darkness.  There was a splat like a million eggs breaking all at once.

Dust rained from the ceiling, turning them all into moths and sending them into coughing fits.  Shepard sought the tube of water at her neck, blindly, and gulped it down as her lips sealed around it.  Once she had her voice again, she asked, “Everyone ok?”

There was some more coughing.  “In one piece, ma’am.”

Liara echoed the sentiment.  “I’m fine.  Is it over?”

“I’m going to find out.”  Shepard started making her way up through the dust to view her handiwork, when something snaked out of the debris and seized her ankle in a death grip.  She jumped half a meter, but the hand didn’t slacken in the slightest.

The asari groaned.  “I’m… I’m free.”


	27. Rooftop Conversations

Shepard yanked her foot free, her hand flying to her sidearm.  “You’re dead!”

“Not quite, though not for lack of trying.”  The asari groaned again, trying to push herself upright.  “Thank the goddess for good equipment.”

Liara squatted beside her.  “She needs medical attention.  Shepard-“

“Do it.”  She watched as Liara packed the wounds with fresh medi-gel.  Her hardsuit seemed to have checked most of the bullets’ momentum, as they didn’t penetrate far into the muscles of her back.  She was in some pain but there was relatively little lasting damage.

The commando let the wall take her weight and closed her eyes.  “Thank you.”

“What are you doing here?” Liara demanded.

Her eyes cracked back open as she took Liara in fully for the first time.  She blinked.  “I don’t believe it.  Liara T’Soni.”

Shepard glanced between them.  “You know each other?  How?”

“My name is Shiala.”  She coughed.  “I served Lady Benezia for many years.  Of course I recognize her only daughter.”

Shepard turned to Liara.  “I thought you and your mom didn’t talk.”

“Shiala was a close confidant, one of my mother’s most loyal followers.  She has known Benezia longer than I have.”  Liara gave her a helpless shrug.  “She used to keep sweets at her desk for me.”

“If your mother could see you here, Liara…“  Shiala reached out, stroking Liara’s arm.

Liara withdrew, stiff, and very cold.  “My mother tried to have me killed on Therum.  Don’t you dare judge me.”

Shiala paled and swallowed.  “I heard a rumor like that, while I was aboard the ship.  Benezia is not herself.  If I could explain-“

“You were with Saren,” Shepard stated, interrupting the reunion.  “How did you end up inside the thorian?”

“I was a… heh.”  Her mouth quirked with a dry humor.  “An offering.  He needed me to act as an intermediary, to get what he wanted, and when he had it Saren left me here.”

“Why would you allow him to do that?  You know what he’s trying to do?”

“Hasten the return of the reapers?  Yes.”  Shiala returned her gaze evenly.  “Benezia suspected his ill intent, though not in the specifics, and she volunteered herself in hopes of guiding him down a gentler path.  But Saren is… compelling.  Benezia lost her way, as did those who followed her into the darkness.”

Shepard snorted, disgusted.  “Dress it up however you like.  Benezia chose to follow Saren.”

“That is an oversimplification.  Benezia underestimated the magnitude of Saren’s persuasion.  We all did.”  She adjusted her position against the wall, gasping as it raked over her wounds.  “The strength of his influence is… troubling.”

Alenko glanced at Shepard.  “Looks like the matriarch got in over her head.”

“She tried to turn the river and instead was swept away.”  Liara hugged herself, staring at the floor.

Shepard shook her head.  “Asari matriarchs are renowned for their wisdom and presence of mind.  How does one mad turian spectre take control of her?”

“It’s not Saren.  He…”  Shiala looked up at Shepard from the floor.  “Are you familiar with his dreadnought?”

“He had it on Eden Prime.  Resembles a wasp, emits pink lightening?  What about it?”

“He calls it Sovereign.  If you have seen it, then you know it dwarfs any ship in any fleet.  It is utterly alien.  I do not know how he came by it, but know this- it possesses some kind of strange technology capable of dominating the minds of his followers.  More than that- you feel… drawn to the ship.”

“That’s insane.  How is anything like that possible?”

“Whether it is electrical, chemical, biological, I do not know.  The process is remarkably subtle.  It can take days, weeks for the strongest minds, but it is inevitable.  Anyone brought aboard the ship becomes indoctrinated, a willing servant of Saren’s agenda.  His hold is absolute.”

Shepard stared at her.  A small smile touched Shiala’s lips.  “You seem shocked, Commander.”

“More like I’ve just wandered into a Lovecraft story.”  She raked a hand over her hair.  “Alright, assuming for the moment that what you say is accurate, how does this bring you to Feros?”

“I was a slave when Saren brought me here, and a glad one.”  Shiala looked down at her lap, a blush of shame.  “He needed my biotics to communicate with the thorian.  My people are experts in the exchange of information, mind-to-mind, and the thorian was a mind without a tongue.”

Alenko paced along the back of the stairwell.  “I still don’t get it.  What did Saren want from the thorian?”

“A secret belonging to those long dead.  One valuable enough to trade away an asari commando with powerful biotic capabilities.”

Liara’s head snapped up, grief, anger, and sheer disbelief painted on her face.  “My mother stood by and allowed you to be sacrificed?  _You_?  _This_ is what he did to her?”

Shepard lay a hand on her shoulder, gently.  “This isn’t the time.  Shiala- enough with the evasive rhetoric.  What did you give Saren?”

She sighed, and stretched out her legs, seeming to search for words.  “We called it the cipher.  It is difficult to explain.  Saren learned during your meeting with the Council that you had also accessed the vision stored within the beacon on Eden Prime.  From your actions, he deduced that you, too, failed to make sense of it.”

“So Saren has no idea what it means either.”  That was a gift.  Always trailing at least one step behind, it never occurred to Shepard that Saren might be floundering just as much.  Maybe it was time they stopped chasing him and started thinking for themselves.

“The beacons were meant for a Prothean mind.  To understand their content, one must think like a Prothean- understand their culture, their history, what it meant to _be_ a Prothean in the same way you understand instinctively what it is to be human.”

“And the thorian had tens of thousands of years of dwelling inside Prothean minds.”

“Precisely.  The cipher is a way to tap into that endemic racial memory, a viewpoint spanning thousands of generations, that which made Protheans distinct and whole.”  Shiala’s green eyes flicked away from hers.  “That is what the thorian gave to me, and I in turn gave Saren.”

Alenko stopped pacing.  “Then the geth were just an insurance policy.”

Shepard felt her heart sink.  “Saren knew we were searching for him.  He had the geth try to destroy the thorian so we couldn’t negotiate for the cipher ourselves.”  _And the colony along with it._

“It’s just as well.”  Liara leaned against the wall.  “I can’t say that I like the idea of being a plant’s thrall for the next nine hundred years.”

Shiala smiled, humorlessly.  “It is not a fate to be envied.”

Shepard steeled herself for what was coming next.  “You taught Saren, you can teach me.”

Liara started.  “Commander, she taught Saren by melding with his mind.  You-“

“I know what I’m asking.”

“After the way you reacted the last time-“

Her face was hot.  “Can we please not talk about that?  Ever again, if at all possible?”

Alenko’s brow scrunched up.  “Wait.  You and her…”

“It wasn’t like that!”  Shepard felt she couldn’t make this worse if she tried.  “That damned vision wasn’t letting me sleep, we were in the middle of a siege, and I didn’t have a lot of options.”

Shiala’s patience wore thin.  “It may be an uncomfortable process for the unfamiliar, particularly those individuals who are… strongly independent.  But it is harmless.  I cannot, however, be responsible for the impact of the information conveyed.”

“If Saren has it, I need it.”  She took a breath.  “Are you strong enough to do it now?”

The asari nodded, curtly.  “Help me to my feet.”

She hauled her to standing.  She steadied herself against the wall a moment, before giving up and leaning her weight against it.  “Stand before me.  Closer.  There.”

Shepard found her gaze darting to the ceiling, to Liara off to the side, to her armor, anywhere but the asari’s face, as the injured woman placed her hands on each of Shepard’s shoulders.  There was a touch of amusement in her voice.  “I need you to look at me, Commander.”

“Right.”  She took a deep breath and dragged her eyes to Shiala’s. 

“Try to relax.  Open your mind to the possibilities that surround us.  Every idea must touch another mind to live.”

“Yeah, I got this the first time around.  ‘Embrace eternity’.” 

“Shhh.”  Her smooth, enthralling tone never varied.  “It is necessary to properly prepare your mind for the joining.  Close your eyes.”

Shepard did as she asked, trying to stop her skin crawling, trying to forget her armor was caked in thorian ick, that she hadn’t slept in a couple of days, that Saren had once again vanished and the continuity of civilization might just hang on whether she could find him.  Her mind closed to the dirty stairwell, the faint tang of blood from Shiala’s injuries and the bitter smell of medi-gel, Alenko’s nervous pacing and Liara’s smothering concern.  Her awareness narrowed to the asari’s hypnotic words, the feel of her hands and the intensity of her gaze, a subtle pressure even with her own vision closed off. 

“Slow, deep breaths.”  Shiala stepped closer still.  “Let go your physical shell.  Reach out to grasp the threads that bind us, one to another.  We are all connected, every living being united in a single, glorious existence.  Open yourself to the universe.”

Her face was now so close Shepard could feel the heat radiating off it.  She couldn’t have pulled away at this point if she tried.  Shiala’s breath brushed her cheek.  “Embrace eternity.”

Shepard opened her eyes.  She stood across from Benezia’s acolyte in a darkened cave.  Shiala’s hands cupped the sole light in the chamber, a luminescent ball of swirling green and gold.  Shepard craned her neck to get a better look at their surroundings.  For all the world, it resembled nothing so much as a novelty rock she’d bought from a tourist trap on Terra Nova when she was ten- hemispherical and glittering with shadowed crystals. 

Not much was visible beyond the short radius of Shiala’s light.  From the depths of the cave came a sudden shriek, causing Shepard to turn and reach automatically for a weapon that was not there. 

Shiala spoke calmly, the depths of the place swallowing her voice.  “Pay it no mind.  They’re not looking for you.”

“This doesn’t look like the last time.”

“Unless I’m much mistaken, on that occasion Liara entered your mind.”  Her eyes, Shepard noticed, were violet here, not the odd green of the real world, and her skin a healthy blue.  “On this occasion, I have pulled you into mine- because the knowledge you require resides here.”

She glanced down at her ball of light and then back up at Shepard.  More sounds echoed from the distant reaches, ripping and tearing punctuated by the occasional cry of pain, though she could see nothing.  The commander was thoroughly unnerved.

Shiala’s mouth turned up at one corner, though there was nothing of warmth or pleasure in the expression.  “I don’t need to tell you that sometimes the price of our kind of life is very high.”

Shepard recalled the locked and reinforced doors lining the halls of her own mental sanctuary, and took her advice to block it out.  “Let’s do this.”

The asari held out the light.  In its depths, Shepard could see fleeting images and detect scraps of sound, but everything vanished too quickly to make out clearly.  When she reached for it, Shiala drew it back a moment.  “This is not the sort of gift you will thank me for.”

“I understand.”  


“It is the experience of an entire people, a race dead for fifty thousand years.  The responsibility of keeping such a thing is immense.”

“I’m in this too deep to back out now.  Using this… memory to protect the galaxy from suffering what happened to them feels right.”

Shiala held out the cipher, and Shepard took it.

Her mind was enveloped. 

There was no making sense of it.  None of the cipher represented coherent, logical, or structured thought.  It was impressions, nuance, feeling, understanding- all those things her storied military career had taught her to put aside in a crisis, the best wisdom being that emotional involvement only interfered with making decisions which were quick and correct.  Some of it felt familiar, though it was streaming by at an eye-watering speed that made it difficult to form associations with her own experiences.  At the same time the impressions imbedded in the cipher were utterly alien, not merely straining her frame of reference or imagination, but something so entirely beyond it as to be almost impossible to assimilate. 

The transfer of the cipher from Shiala to Shepard seemed to take a small eternity.  But it was only a few scant seconds before Shepard’s eyes flew open and she stumbled back from the asari.  Disoriented, the stairs caught the back of her ankles and she would have fallen over if Alenko hadn’t grabbed her by the shoulders.  “Shepard, are you alright?”

“I… I saw something.  Give me a second.”  She took a deep breath, not caring that it was choked with dust from the charges.  Shiala scrutinized her with a once-more green-eyed gaze.  Shepard returned it with bewilderment.  “It still doesn’t make any sense.”

“It will take time for your mind to process the information, but it will help.  I promise you that.”

Liara took a hesitant step towards her.  “We should take you back to the ship, where you can be monitored.”  


“The hell am I spending the next few days being prodded in med bay.”  She staggered up the stairs, leaning on the wall.  “Somebody radio the _Normandy_ and see if the colonists have backed down.”

Alenko seemed to share Liara’s concerns.  “Commander, ma’am, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea-“

“I’m fine,” she half-snarled, and continued to drag herself up the stairs to get a look at what she’d done, ignoring all offers of help or solace.  Shiala’s cipher continued to burn bright within her mind, much as the asari’s critical eyes burned into her back, all the way up.

/\/\/\/\/\

After much cajoling and coercion, Shepard finally relented to Chakwas’ learned care.  The iron-haired doctor pushed the scanner away with wry amusement.  “You’ve taken no serious injuries, though in my professional opinion a hot shower wouldn’t go awry.  I’d suggest you take it easy the next few weeks, but…”

“You know I’ll just ignore it, and there’s not enough wrong with me to keep me here under duress.”

“Oh, there is something very wrong with you, Commander.”  Her lively blue eyes hinted at a laugh.  “But I don’t believe it’s anything pills or sutures are likely to cure.”

Shepard had to laugh herself.  It was true, for a certain value of honesty, anyway.  “And the colonists?”

“A few lacerations and contusions from the idiocy they were displaying outside, nothing too serious.  The thorian was apparently so furious with you that it took no care to protect the colonists from themselves.”

Shepard shrugged.  “What can I say?  I have a gift.”

Chakwas tutted, moving along to the next subject.  “I have been unable to determine what is amiss with the asari.  Such a pronounced change in pigmentation usually signals some kind of serious nutrient imbalance or organ deterioration, but I’ve found no signs of either.  I suggested she seek the advice of an asari medical expert, but she’s nearly as stubborn as you.”

Shepard glanced out the med bay windows, where Shiala and Davin Reynolds were deep in conversation.  “She’s determined to stay and help the colony.  She feels what happened was partially her fault.”

“Short-sighted, but admirable.” 

“Maybe.”  Shepard couldn’t have said she would not have done the same.  Even without- maybe especially without- the thorian’s enforced lassitude, there really was an aura of peace and hope about the place.  The men and women who chose to plant their lives and families here didn’t seem so crazy after all.  It was as much of a fresh start as any human was ever likely to see.  “It sounds nuts, but I kind of envy them, just a little.”

Chakwas followed her gaze.  “I tried to settle down once.  It didn’t take.  Something in me needs the stars, the adventure… and I always feel as though every second I spend in comfort back on Earth or some colony, someone up here is going without my help.  Space is where the Alliance needs doctors.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“If we can spare the time, I believe the surviving colonists from across the skyway are planning to take the shuttle fleet back to Zhu’s Hope and have a bit of a celebration.”

“Oh, we’re staying.”  Shepard grinned.  “We’ve earned a little R&R.”

She took the doctor’s advice and spent the better part of an hour showering away every last spec of grime from the last week and a half.  Dirt came with the territory, but there was no better feeling than being freshly scrubbed afterwards.  Walking back to Zhu’s Hope without her hardsuit and only a sidearm for protection felt strange in a good way.  Late afternoon was fading into early evening.  Around Zhu’s Hope, the colonists were lighting bonfires and breaking out better stores brought over from the main colony on the first of the shuttles.  People huddled in small groups, talking and embracing as families and friends were reunited.

Most of the _Normandy_ crew was already there.  The majority were settled around their own fire, but more than a few were mixing with the colonists, exchanging stories and good wishes.  Feros was going to leave a lasting mark on all of them.  Shepard was glad it was a happy one. 

“Commander Shepard.”  Juliana Baynham rushed over, shoved a drink her hand, and gave her a warm hug. 

Taken aback by the unexpected show of affection, Shepard shuffled the drink to her other hand to return the embrace.  “Juliana.  It’s good to see you in one piece.”

“After you left, Jeong got a little- ah- testy.”  Juliana smiled.  “Then we were hit hard by a party of retreating geth.  Without your people, I’m not sure we would have made it.  I think having his own skin on the line went a long way towards changing his mind.”

“You’re going to have to be cautious for a while.  With their ship destroyed, any geth left here have no place to go.”

“You don’t think Saren will be back for them?”

“No.  They were expendable.”  And now that she had the cipher, Saren had no reason to continue breaking the might of his army against the cunning will of the thorian, whatever was left it.  She doubted very much the destruction of a single node belonging to something that ancient and evil erased it forever.

“Shepard.”  Garrus sauntered over, accompanied by Tali, brimming with smug satisfaction.  He stuck out his hand.  “Heard you got what you needed.”

She gripped it a long moment, a gesture of easy camaraderie.  “Heard you finally got yourself a real fight.”

“It got pretty hairy there for a bit.  But then our Tali had some kind of epiphany and got them to freeze.”

Tali scuffled her toe in the dirt, a bodily blush.  “It wasn’t very complicated.  I wired the destroyer’s memory core into their radio and broadcast an order to surrender.”

Garrus crossed his arms, leaning back on his heels.  “After that all we had to do was mow them down.  Just like target practice.”

Shepard blinked.  “With the jamming signals down, you might have reached every geth in the colony.”

“I wouldn’t want to stake my life on it, but… maybe.”  Tali hastened to add, “I doubt it will work again.  The geth weren’t destroyed instantaneously.  I’m certain they were relaying the nonsensical command electronically, and the next geth we meet will have patched their security.”

“Gotta love instant updates.  Hell of a thing, regardless.”

Juliana wasn’t finished.  “And there’s more- Jeong called his bosses and revealed what happened.  They’re relieved the thorian is dead- but excited about the study and the samples we preserved.  As long as you keep the discovery quiet with the Systems Alliance, this colony will have all the funding it could ever need.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “The Zhu’s Hope group doesn’t want to press charges?  Or at least file a lawsuit?”

“According to Davin, they just want to get on with their lives.”

Shepard thought it over a moment.  “Alright.  As long as Jeong’s not strong-arming them, it’s not my decision to make.”  She gave Juliana a nod.  “I’m going to find something to eat.”

The most she had in three days was a couple of protein bars on the shuttle over, and now that the adrenaline was draining out of her system she was ravenous.

Garrus jerked his head towards the shipping yard.  “I think someone over there is cooking actual food, none of the rehydrated crap, if you’re interested.  Tali and I are stuck with what’s back on the ship.”

Shepard grimaced.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Tali reassured her.  “I’ve got an entire box of dextro pulled taffy from the last time we were on the Citadel.  We thought it was time we broke it out.”

“And I’ve got a bottle of rye from Taetrus.”  The turian grinned.  “Don’t worry, Shepard.  We’re not missing out.”

/\/\/\/\/\

The sun was settled low on the horizon when the last of the colonists arrived and the party really got going.  For the _Normandy_ crew, there from the start, things were already in full swing.

“-and then Chase fricking LEAPS over the barrier, and slams the butt of her rifle right in that thing’s flashlight.”  The marine pantomimed smashing the geth.  “That robot never saw it coming.”

There was laughter.  Alenko observed, dryly, “I’m pretty sure Chase didn’t see it coming either.”

Addison Chase, the marine in question, went bright red as the good-natured laughter increased.  “Hey, I definitely knew it was there before I jumped the barrier.  My reflexes are catlike.”

“Catlike.  Right.”  Private Crosby snorted.  “More like the time my wife brought home a kitten, and it didn’t know how to work its claws, so it kept bumbling around getting stuck on things-“

“So pretty much like every time you come home on shore leave?” she shot back.

His response was drowned out in more laughter and catcalls.  Talitha Draven, who was sitting back against Rosamund’s knees, tilted her head back with an accusatory glare.  “You said it was boring.”

Corporal Rosamund Draven eyed Ensign Draven, who was a technology specialist in engineering and had not left the _Normandy_ at any point during the siege, with a certain amount of spousal trepidation.  “There may have been a few brief moments of excitement.”

“That sounds like something Shepard would say- guns down a half dozen geth and then complains about the inconvenience and interruption.”  Williams rolled her eyes.  “Where the hell is Shepard, anyway?”

They glanced around the fire.  The commander’s quiet absence was suddenly quite conspicuous.  Crosby said, “I saw her slink off after dinner.  I thought she was coming right back, but…”

“She probably got waylaid by some of the colonists,” Alenko reasoned.  “I’ll go see if I can extract her.”

He got up and left the warmth and noise of _Normandy’s_ fire.  It didn’t take long to check the other groups scattered around Zhu’s Hope and determine Shepard was not sitting with any of them.  He managed to raise Garrus back on the ship, who informed him in an only slightly slurred statement that Shepard was not aboard.

He probably should have let it go at that.  It was far more likely that she didn’t want to be found than anything nefarious was afoot.  But tonight was a victory, and they hadn’t experienced very many of those since taking on this mission.  It seemed wrong that Shepard shouldn’t be enjoying their well-earned celebration.

_She doesn’t sleep well.  She probably just fell into the first quiet corner she stumbled across, and I’ll find her passed out somewhere._ Still, he started asking around, and eventually his search led him to the roof of the ruins, six stories up, where he found Shepard propped up against a retrofit shed with a fifth of tequila in hand, watching the sun go down.

She glanced at him without much surprise as he emerged from the stairwell, and shrugged deeper into her leather jacket.  Up here, in the wind and growing night, there was the faintest chill in the air.  “Hey.”

Not quite sure how to begin, he went with triviality.  “Your absence is starting to draw attention.”

“Clearly.”  She chuckled, and held out the bottle.  “Care to join me?”

“I’m more of a whiskey guy.”  It didn’t stop him from settling down beside her, folding his arms over his knees.

She took a draw from the bottle and grimaced.  “Probably a smart call.  There’s never any decent tequila around when you need it.”

He gave it a glance.  It was already a quarter empty.  “Where the hell did you get a bottle of tequila on this rock anyway?”

“Traded one of the scientists for it.”  She contemplated the bottle.  “Apparently, it’s considerably easier to go along with corrupt and unethical experiments on non-consenting human beings if you’re just a little bit sloshed.”

“Ah, the old ‘don’t ask me, I was drunk’ defense.”

“I hear it works pretty well with admirals too.” 

“I’m not so sure about that one.”  He paused, watching the sun slip down another fraction.  It was strange.  Aboard ship, you got used to stars coming and going sometimes within an hour.  But somehow the experience was completely transformed by being down on the surface of a world, where the passage of the sun was the ultimate timekeeper going back to the ancient days.   

“Hell of a day,” he finally said.  “You wanted a homerun, and you sure as hell got one, ma’am.”

“Yes I did.”  Her smile was incredibly satisfied.  “We caught up with Saren, we closed the door on an egregious violation of colonial law, saved an entire colony, and even killed the monster terrorizing the village.  But you know what the best part is?”

“What’s that?”

She snickered.  “When we get back to the Citadel, Udina’s going to have to face a bank of cameras and smile as he shakes my hand.  It may just kill him.”

He chuckled and shook his head.  “We can only hope.  I have to say though, you’re missing one heck of a party.  It’s really your party.  None of this would have happened without you.”

Her mirth faded, and she took another pull from the bottle.  “Just… thinking, that’s all.  About this cipher and what the hell is happening out here.”

Alenko waited a moment for her to continue before prodding.  “Want to talk about it?”

“I’m not sure I can explain it.”

“Doesn’t hurt to try.”

“I’m not sure it’s the kind of thing a commanding officer should be discussing with her lieutenant,” she clarified.

He shrugged.  “We’re off-duty.”

“We’re never off-duty.”

“Well, if we’re on duty, ma’am, technically you’re drinking in uniform.”

Shepard glanced again at the bottle.  “…point taken.”

He settled in to wait, raising his eyebrows at her.  “So?  Let’s have it.”

She slouched back against the shed and sighed.  The silence stretched to the point where he almost gave her an out, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.  Then she started to speak, rather abruptly.  “About ten months ago I applied for a posting at ICT.  Their instructor for an N4 course retired.  Infiltration and reconnaissance, how to get in, complete your objective, and get out clean.  I thought I might be a good fit.”

“Teaching?  Really?”  Alenko couldn’t have been more astonished if she suggested she wanted to join the Marine Corps Band.  “I can’t decide if I’m more surprised by that or the fact that they apparently turned you down.”

“Admiral Zahavy thanked me for my interest and told me to come back when I was forty.”  She snorted.  “Asshole.”

He was still lost.  “Why?  I mean, why apply in the first place?”

She set down the bottle and looked up at the sky.  The last ruby rays were fading into purple twilight.  Her face was in shadows.  “After Akuze I kind of gave up on everything.  What the hell was the point?  In a world this screwed up, what did it matter if I did the hard work to make something meaningful, if it would all be destroyed anyway?”

“Nihilism never got anyone anywhere.”

“You weren’t there.”  The words lashed out like knives.  Her eyes cut at him.

He blinked, and weighed his response.  “No.  I’m not saying I understand.  But it clearly cost you a lot and I don’t know if the people who were there would have wanted that.”

Shepard glanced away.  “After something like that it’s laughable that anyone expects you to care about a bad posting, or who said what to whom, or even which damn flowers to put in a centerpiece for your own wedding.  I didn’t inhabit the same reality as everyone else anymore.”

“That was five years ago.”

“Almost six.”

“Alright, six.  You said you wanted out ten months ago.”  The light bulb went off.  There was only one subject on which she was this evasive.  “This doesn’t have anything to do with that other mission?  The one that you’d spend the next twenty years in Vancouver lock-up for telling me about?”

She gave him an even look.  “You sure you want to hear this?  It makes you liable too.”

Alenko wasn’t sure what made him answer affirmatively.  The navy took breaches of classified information very seriously.  This simply felt more important than the potential consequences.  “No, but I’ll listen anyway.”

Shepard blew out a breath.  “Our drive core got shot out from under us.  We were stranded on the edges of batarian space, which is why the cavalry wasn’t exactly coming over the hill.”

“What the hell was the navy doing in batarian space?”  The ceasefire agreement was crystal clear.  That- and only that- had kept Alliance territory free of batarian raids for years.  Alenko was shocked.

“I’m not going to tell you that.”  Shepard ran her hand over her hair.  “We all coped with it in our own ways.  One of the guys in the squad, he wouldn’t shut about his fucking cat.  We were only supposed to be gone a few days and now we were looking at months.  He’d gotten someone back in Brazil to watch her.  And he kept going on and on, what if they couldn’t keep doing it, what if we died out here and the cat got sent to a shelter.” 

“Maybe it was easier to fixate on something.”  Alenko could extrapolate how desperate things must have become on small ship like that easily enough.  “Distraction.”

“Maybe.  I didn’t have much.  There was nothing to do but think.”  She rubbed her nose.  “I realized there was nothing I’d ever had in the whole damn universe I’d miss half as much as he’d miss his stupid cat.”

“That’s not true.  I mean, you have your mom and dad at least.”

“Having parents who are going to cry at your funeral isn’t the same thing as having a life.”  She shook her head.  “Hell, if I did die even my parents would talk about how dedicated I was to my duty, just like the official eulogy.  There’s not much else to say.”

He knew what she meant, but he hated hearing her voice it.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.  You love this job.  Doing our duty, doing it well- that’s the highest aspiration of people in our line of work.”

“Yeah.”  She gave him a half-hearted smile.  “The problem is that’s all I ever do.  I wasn’t asking for the ICT posting because I was tired of doing this.  I was asking for it because I was trying to get myself to a place where I could do the job and have some kind of real life.”

“Everyone in the navy struggles with that,” he said, trying for reassuring.  “It’s not easy no matter where you’re posted.”

She took another swig from the bottle, swallowed.  “I tried to change.  I applied for the post at ICT, because why not.  I went on vacation.  The first real vacation I’d had since I was a kid.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Disney World, believe it or not.  I’d never been and the shuttle fares from Arcturus were cheap.”

He chuckled.  “I can’t for the life of me picture you at Disney World.”

“I sort of stuck out.  The rides were ok, I guess.  I don’t like roller coasters.  I mean, I’m not afraid of them, I just don’t see the point.  Stand in line for an hour for a few minutes of being rattled and wrenched around… I’ve been injured a lot and that kind of thing is just a lot of pointless aches.  There were kids and families everywhere.  And there I was, a space-pale loner in civvies with the tags still on, stinking of cigarettes.” 

“I’m sure nobody minded as much as you think.”

“I don’t care if they minded.  I cared that I couldn’t even do this one stupid human thing without feeling like a guest in someone else’s reality.  So I went down to the beach instead.  Sat in the sun.  I don’t like weather all that much, but it was nice.  Didn’t change anything, but it was nice.  I guess nothing ever does.”  She leaned back against the shed and took another swig, staring up at the sky.  “I really did try, though.  For a little while.  And now here we are anyway.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, Shepard drinking while Alenko thought.  He had a feeling like this wasn’t something she talked about much, and tequila or no, he understood the amount of trust being extended.  He didn’t want her to regret it.  And hearing her go on like this hurt him in a way he wasn’t comfortable examining.  “So what does this have to do with drinking yourself blind on bad tequila?  Today was a good day, Shepard.  There’s nothing wrong with letting that be.”

“It’s this cipher.  I’m starting to understand more of it.”  The bottle fumbled in her hands.  “There is a lot more to this than any of us suspected.  This war the Protheans fought with the reapers?  It lasted centuries.  And it wasn’t the first time.  The reapers have annihilated organic civilization again, and again, and again.  Every fifty thousand years, like clockwork, going back god knows how long.”

He stared.  “That’s insane.  You’ve only had this thing a few hours.  Surely-“

“You can believe whatever you like, Kaidan, it’s true.”  She hugged her knees up to her chest, copying his posture, and rested her chin on them.  “You can’t imagine the kind of force I’m seeing in this beacon warning, and I can’t begin to describe it.  It’s coming for us, now.  Even if we stop Saren it’s still coming.  All we’re fighting for is a chance to push back the schedule and gain more time to prepare.”

Alenko took a few minutes to process that, and decided that for the moment legitimacy didn’t matter.  “Alright, leaving aside whether or not that is accurate, what about it drove you away from the party?”

“Because this is it.”  Shepard swept her hand out, gesturing at the darkened sky.  “Whether I die in bed or somewhere out there, this war is the last thing I’m going to do with my life.  I can’t ignore it, not without changing everything I am.”

“Don’t say that.  We might figure something out-”

“It’s the truth.  Why the hell shouldn’t I say it?”  She stared up into the gathering night.  “Maybe this was fair.  I’ve never believed in destiny, but hell, I would’ve never believed in something like the reapers either.  Maybe this was always where my life was going and the lack of sentimentality was destiny’s way of making it not hurt so much when it came time to do it.  But I kinda think, maybe, it would’ve been better to have something to miss after all.”

“Or maybe you’re just tired and drunk.”  He nudged her.  “Not to be mean, but this isn’t a great state of mind to contemplate the unknown.”

“I really appreciate the support there, L.T.  Very insightful.”  Shepard rolled her eyes and tucked her knees tighter to her chest.  “I’m just saying, if some oracle came to me at seventeen and laid it all out, I’m not absolutely certain this is what I would’ve chosen.”

“Look, when you were seventeen, you were dying your hair bright blue and stealing parts out of cars,” he pointed out.  “Experience changes your perspective.  Even with foresight, it probably still would’ve looked like an exciting adventure.”

She chuckled, rubbing her forehead, at a loss.  “I don’t think that blue-haired girl would even recognize me, carefully stepping around the sensibilities of four different species and giving politically respectful interviews.”

“I don’t know.”  He tilted his head back, taking in the night sky, not wanting to say the wrong thing.   The first of the stars were starting to come out.  “I think instead of dying her hair, she pulls out electrical cables to fry synthetic hostiles while standing in a pool of water.  Instead of turning cartwheels on ANN, she flips the bird at turian leadership in open Council sessions.  She didn’t change.  She grew up and her battles got a little bigger, that’s all.” 

Shepard, too, turned her gaze upwards.  It was too dark to make out her expression, and a good while before she answered.  “You know, that may be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in a very long time.” 

He smiled in the dark.  “Well, I’m glad calling you a pain in the ass makes you feel better, ma’am.”

“Hey, I’ve cultivated that aura of assholery.  It’s harder than it looks.”  She turned her head and grinned at him, laying her cheek against her knees.  “So what about you?  I find it hard to believe Lieutenant Alenko doesn’t have anything waiting for him back in port.”

It was Alenko’s turn to be evasive.  “Nah.  Nothing like that.”

“Extended deployment is that big a deal-breaker?”

He let out a sigh tinged with exasperation.  “I don’t know.  Everything will go great for a few weeks, then they start telling me that I’m ‘emotionally unavailable’ and it’s not going to work.”  He made a face.  “Emotionally unavailable.  What does that even mean?”

“It means that you’re defensive and you don’t give people ready access to what you’re thinking or feeling.”  Shepard was bemused.

“I’m a private person.”

“I think it’s your business who you choose to share things with.  I like my privacy too.”  She shrugged, and started searching around for the tequila again.  “But on the other hand, you’re wound up tighter than the tensile spring under _Normandy’s_ main battery.  It wouldn’t kill you to relax a little.”

He snorted.  “That’s pot calling kettle if I ever heard it.”

She waved the bottle at him before taking another swig.  “Speak for yourself.  I’m the one who’s drinking.”

“Oh, go to hell, ma’am,” he said, crossly.  She snickered, but offered no further comment.

Then, after a moment, he rolled his eyes held out his hand.

Shepard laughed and passed him the tequila.

/\/\/\/\/\

It took a few hours for Feros’ sun to climb high enough to reach around the storage shed and reach the two slumbering marines slumped against it.

They stirred at nearly the same time.  Shepard leaned forward and cradled her forehead in her hand, and groaned.  “Why?”

Alenko rubbed the sand from his eyes and took a glance at the now-empty fifth.  “Well, you did drink most of it.”

She put her head between her knees.  “Today is gonna suck.”

He tried not to laugh.  Her uniform was rumpled past any decent excuse, she had a rough, angry scrape painted across her cheek, and her long red hair was half-falling out of its bun.  The sun caught the wispy fly-aways as she tried to smooth them back, to make some order of her appearance before they headed back to the ship and look a little more like a C.O. and a little less like a marine who had been up all night drinking. 

Shepard gave him a highly affronted glare.  “This isn’t funny.”

“Of course not, ma’am.”  He bit his tongue against every teasing retort that rose up and tried to slip through. 

She took in his carefully neutral expression, made a sound of exasperation, and resumed adjusting her clothing.

He watched her fuss, and tried not to think all the things that were running through his mind.  Alenko would be lying if he said the notion never occurred to him.  He’d entertained the occasional idle daydream.  Who wouldn’t?  Shepard had strength, grace, brains, and legs all the way up to there.  The more this mission dragged on, the more appreciation he gained for just how much shit she was forced to wade to accomplish anything.  Alenko admired the hell out of her for sticking with it all the same, though it was equally undeniable that those long legs and red hair of hers sometimes played more of a starring role than her tenacity. 

There were over three hundred clearly defined statutes in the Systems Alliance Uniform Code of Military Justice.  Most of them were relatively obscure, or sufficiently overlapping with either day-to-day protocol or common sense as to be understood implicitly.  A few, however, were hammered into the brains of every recruit who passed through Alliance basic training.  Article 218 stated in no uncertain terms the consequences for fraternization, particularly in a time of war, between soldiers within a chain of command.  Couples or spouses who served on the same ship were not terribly uncommon; the _Normandy_ even had their own pair, Rosamund and Talitha.  But they served in different areas and were not subject to taking orders from each other in the normal course of events. 

Alenko answered to Shepard directly.  They worked together closely, under the most serious of circumstances, the outright attack of several human colonies by a rogue army from beyond the Terminus Systems.  They fought together, they relied on each other, and neither of them would be able to fully execute their duty under that kind of distraction.  It was literally the textbook example of a 218 violation.  There was no excuse. 

Idle daydreams were one thing.  But sitting on the roof, taking in his charmingly disheveled commander in the early morning light, recalling how forlorn she sounded and the way it echoed his occasional doubts about his own life, and realizing that party or no, there was no place he’d rather have spent last night- those daydreams didn’t feel quite so idle or so innocent.  And Lieutenant Alenko realized, quite abruptly, that he had a very, very big problem.


	28. Meet Admiral Hackett

“You’re enjoying this a little too much, Shepard,” Udina stated through clenched teeth as the journalists’ automatic cameras snapped away.

“Anything to show the good people of the Alliance the unity of their government, sir,” Shepard shot back under her breath as she grasped his hand, her fixed smile never wavering.

The sheer hatred in the ambassador’s eyes warmed her heart.  If she was pissing off the politicos, she knew they were doing something right.  Udina finished up his remarks on their courageous rescue of the Feros colony, the galaxy’s gratitude, and so forth, while she held her hands behind her back and surreptitiously wiped his slime off of her palm.  Once more, Shepard found herself shined up for display, but by now the point had come, as it did in every long mission, where the accumulated damage was starting to show.  She had a collection of scattered bruises where her kinetic shields had failed, the angry scrape up her cheekbone remained fresh, and a general achiness of body that would not fully subside until after a week or two of leave once this was over.

Udina, by contrast, was outfitted in one of his usual expensively tailored suits without a strand of his thinning hair out of place, as removed from the reality of this war as it was possible to be.  Shepard had to question whether he ever found himself on the business end of a fight in all his life.  He concluded the small speech with a perfunctory round of applause for _Normandy’s_ efforts, and then it was time for a few questions.

The respect the reporters showed Udina was unexpected.  They didn’t shout or press up against him, shoving their recording devices in his face.  Part of that was undoubtedly the venue, a charmingly small garden not far from his offices in the Presidium lending the event a formal air, but part of it was Udina himself and the relationship he established with the press.  Shepard admitted to a touch of envy and wondered how he’d done it.  They showed her no such courtesy.

He pointed at a man in the crowd accompanied by a hovering camera plastered with sponsor logos.  The man glanced down at his datapad.  “Mr. Ambassador, Frank Dunney, ANN.  Do you have any comment on whether the Council plans to extend any economic safeguards to the corporations suffering in the wake of the halt on Attican colonization?”

Udina cleared his throat and rested his hands on his podium.  “The Council’s official statement is that humanity was aware of the risks when we went into the Traverse.  However, they are monitoring the situation closely and have no desire for a significant segment of our economy to collapse.  For the moment Parliament’s offer of short-term loans is doing the trick.”

Between official Alliance space and the Traverse, humanity was building a nice buffer between the batarians and the rest of the galaxy.  The Council would never allow that shield to fail entirely.  But Shepard didn’t realize the colonization situation had deteriorated that much.  It had now been nearly ten weeks since Saren’s unprovoked attack on Eden Prime. 

The ANN reporter had a follow-up.  “And what do you think about the colonists who are emigrating back to Earth?  There have been reports that some of the smaller colonies are all but emptied.”

Shepard blinked at that, but buried the remainder of her reaction.  _People are so frightened that they’re abandoning their homes?_

She didn’t think about Saren like that.  He was a challenge, an enemy, something to loathe.  His actions frustrated and angered her, but it had never occurred to her to be afraid.  If Shepard were a colonist, she’d be waiting in her hab with a shotgun and god help any geth who came her way.  Home, for those lucky enough to find it, ought to be one of the inviolate pillars of the world.

Meanwhile, Udina responded to the question with an easy chuckle.  The sound fit him like a dress on a porcupine.  “I hope they locked their doors before they left.  As soon as this situation is resolved, they’ll be back.  Right now, what we need is calm and resolve.  Fleeing in a panic only opens us to more risk.”

A young woman Shepard recognized from the crush of reporters assaulting her on her last visit raised her hand.  Udina pointed at her.  “Yes, Miss al-Jilani.”

“Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News.  This one is for Commander Shepard.”  Her VI camera fixed its light on Shepard, who stared into it passively.  “We were all shocked to hear your confirmation that a turian spectre, Saren Arterius, is behind these heinous attacks.  What do you say to those who claim sending the Citadel’s least experienced spectre after one of their most celebrated is an attempt to portray humanity as incompetent, or allow Arterius’ activities to continue?”

“That’s a load of bull crap.”

“I’m sorry, Commander?”

“I said that’s a load of bull crap.”  Shepard addressed her steadily.  “Having rogue elements within their organization doesn’t strengthen the Council.  They want Saren brought in.  He’s broken our laws, he’s broken galactic laws by collaborating with synthetics, and he’s broken natural law by the massacre of thousands of our citizens for personal gain.  Nobody in this government is his friend.”

“No offense, Commander, but can you honestly say that sending you isn’t just a token bone to the Council’s least favorite species?”

“Humanity isn’t without prejudice, Miss al-Jilani,” Shepard said crisply.  “A turian, salarian, or even asari spectre wouldn’t receive the same amount of cooperation from our colonists.  We could all do better when it comes to bias.  Additionally, I know these colonies.  I’ve spent ten years of my life defending them.  That’s not nothing.”

“Are you calling human colonists racists?”

Udina, growing nervous, decided to step in.  “I’m certain Commander Shepard shares my sentiment that-“

Shepard overrode him.  “I’m saying it’s common to fear the unfamiliar, and in the last twenty-six years there’s been more tension and misunderstanding than solidarity and diplomacy, on every side.  Trust takes time to build.  We’ve been a part of this community for less than a generation.  I don’t blame people for being uncertain or anxious, but I would ask for a little faith.”

“So you approve of the Council standing by-“

“Miss al-Jilani, yes or no,” Shepard broke in, maintaining control of the conversation.  “If these were turian colonies and Parliament announced that we were sending a fleet and aid packages, would you not this very moment be railing against the use of Alliance tax dollars to support such an effort?”

She raised her eyebrows.  The reporter scowled.  “Commander, I will not permit my perfectly valid question to be diverted by non-sequiturs.  The people have a right to know whose side you’re on.”

“Yes or no?”

Al-Jilani was silent.  Shepard gave her a comforting smile and adopted a somewhat warmer tone.  “Sometimes the pace of progress is downright glacial.  I should know.  These days I spend half my time beating my forehead against it.  You might have caught a little of that from my remarks in the open Council session several weeks ago.”

There was laughter.  She continued, “But we’re living in a galaxy of complexity and nuance that’s way too big to do credit in unilateral statements.  And that’s something men like Saren Arterius will never understand.  I know because I’ve met his kind before- cretins who hide behind masks of terror and despair hoping fear will do most of the their work for them, because they know it’s the only chance they’ve got.” 

Shepard took a breath.  “Where I stand is between the pioneers and scientists and farmers and all the other courageous individuals who have chosen to spend their lives settling the galaxy, and those who have chosen to betray it.  And I would’ve given the exact same answer before I was appointed as a spectre.”

Udina finally managed to get a word in edgewise.  “I believe that’s all our time for today.  Thank you again for your attention, and may these unfortunate events be swiftly brought to closure.”

A few reporters shouted questions as they departed, but Udina hustled Shepard away before there was any chance of a response.  His grip on her arm was painfully tight.  “You can’t just spout off like that.”

“Evidently you’re mistaken, because I just did.”

“You’re the proverbial bull in a china shop.  You don’t have the faintest idea what you are doing.”  He yanked her into a side alley and paused for breath.  “You were supposed to be vetted.  Not just in combat alongside Nihlus, but in the company of serious people.  You were supposed to be ready before we turned you loose in Citadel politics.”

“Let me tell you something, ambassador.”  She jabbed a finger at his chest.  “Saren’s got a fleet and it is filled with soldiers who do not fear and do not tire.  He won’t stop at humanity.  The time is coming when the Council is going to have to say yes, for their sake as much as ours, and when that moment comes I don’t want our own stubborn pride to have made it impossible for them to do so.”

“I recall you telling me that politics was my job.”

“People are fleeing their homes, and you stood up there and called it an unfortunate event.  The word you were seeking is war.”  Shepard’s calm tone never rose above the temperature of liquid hydrogen.  “Let go of my arm before I make you let go.”

He released her with an expression of pure contempt.  “Captain Anderson is waiting for you back at the embassy.”

Shepard straightened her jacket, offered the ambassador a cold nod, and departed.

She passed a taxi stand, but elected to continue on foot.  Anger wasn’t a problem; if anything, Shepard felt she’d finally won a round with the press and Udina both.  It was a fifteen minute walk back to the human embassy, or a five minute cab ride, and fifteen minutes without any small talk, altercations, or company aside from her private thoughts appealed to her sanity.

Shepard garnered a few stares as she made her way through the late afternoon Presidium throng.  It was increasingly difficult to go unrecognized anywhere, but especially here, at the heart of the galaxy. 

Well, let them watch.Two salarians who leaned in to whisper with each other as she passed were affronted when Shepard offered them a cavalier wave.  It wasn’t polite to acknowledge gossip.  She didn’t care about that either.  Discomfiting people who viewed her work largely as a form of entertainment strayed awfully close to fun.

In fact, for all that she was sore, tired, and up to her ass in political shenanigans, not to mention increasingly convinced between the beacon and the cipher that they were all well and truly fucked, life felt easier after Feros.  Their victory was a serious black eye to Saren, and she was finally settling into her new role.

So it was with a light step that she walked into Udina’s spacious office and tossed off a lazy salute.  “Captain.”

Anderson was sitting off to the side on one of the black leather couches that defined the less office-like portion of the embassy, the space where the ambassador from Earth could sip drinks and play nice with other notables.  He seemed in a good mood.  “Commander.  That was quite the show you just gave.”

“Word travels fast.”  She gave the room a quick glance, a mix of familiar faces and complete strangers.  Garrus, Alenko, and Williams stood out.  The others blurred together in a swirl of uniforms and placid expressions.

“It was streamed live.”  Anderson raised an eyebrow.  “’Humanity is prejudiced’?  Implying if it were someone else in trouble the good people of the Alliance would be less than supportive?  That’s barn burner stuff.”

“Well…”  Shepard slouched into a chair.

“There are those of the belief that going on all the major networks and stopping just shy of calling your fellow citizens hypocrites would be insensitive.”  He seemed torn between bemusement and admonishment.  His mouth quirked at a corner.

“I called it like I saw it.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Look, I don’t care for the way we get brushed off by the three ringleaders of the xenophobic tightass club either, but we need them, and it’s time everyone started getting used to that reality.”

It was then that she noticed Williams staring at her with quiet horror, and Alenko was surreptitiously trying to draw her attention to the far end of the alcove.  There sat a gray-haired man in dress blues, with a long scar down his cheek and piercing blue eyes fixed on her with abstract curiosity, as if she were a particularly fascinating specimen of some kind.  A real collector’s item. 

She spotted the bars on his shoulders and swallowed, sitting up straight in her chair.  “Admiral.  I didn’t notice you, sir.”

Not a muscle twitched in his face.  “Are you always quite so candid, Lieutenant Commander?”

When she was this deep in it, honesty was the sole course forward.  “Only when it counts, sir.”

He snorted, and if she didn’t know better, she would swear he was trying not to laugh.  Anderson cleared his throat.  “Commander Shepard, this is Admiral Hackett, Commanding Officer, Alliance Fifth Fleet.  We were reporting out on the Feros situation when you came in.”

Hackett was stationed on Arcturus, a logical posting given that the Fifth Fleet was the primary mobile defense for Alliance colonies.  They were responsible for reconnaissance, first response at any sign of trouble, and holding the Traverse border against the Terminus Systems, and while spec ops was technically its own division, more often than not they deployed their covert missions aboard assets of the Fifth Fleet.  It was also his misfortune to be a ranking member of the Joint Military Council and a key military advisor to Parliament, apprising them of developing situations.  Hackett’s presence on the Citadel was a rarity.

It was odd enough to merit a question, despite the thinning ice beneath her feet.  “Sir, if I can ask, what brings you all the way out here?”

“Our colonies are in complete disarray and, as you so eloquently noted, the Council doesn’t seem overly concerned.  I was dispatched to advise the ambassador.”  He leaned forward, folding his hands across his knees.  “I also thought it was time we met, especially if you’re going to continue editorializing the party line.”

“When asked my opinion I’ve given just that.  I would never claim to speak for the Alliance.”

“Feeding the press Saren’s identity wasn’t an opinion, Commander.” 

One of the ways she knew that she was growing into this spectre business was she actually took a moment to consider before replying.  “No, sir.  I received your email.  While nobody ever ordered me to keep it secret, I understood the revelation would meet with disapproval, which is why I didn’t ask first.”

His eyes continued to study her.  She got the sense that behind them was an extraordinarily keen mind, one that might even be able to outthink her.  “This has been a rough transition for you.  You came off your ship with an important witness, the press engulfed you, they were shouting and jostling the both of you, and you threw out a juicy piece of intel to distract them.”

“That’s not what happened, sir.”  Shepard’s gaze was steady and unashamed.  “It takes more than a pack of over-excited journalists to worry me.  I made a determination that it was vital that our colonists know who was responsible.  It was a matter of self-preservation.”

“And you just made that decision all on your own, right there on the spot.”

“With all due respect, Admiral, if the Alliance didn’t want me making those kinds of decisions on my own, they shouldn’t have put up my name.”

Hackett exchanged an unreadable look with Anderson.  The captain smiled.  “Do you believe me now?”

Shepard sat back and crossed her arms over her chest.  “Why do I get the sudden impression that I’ve just been had?”

Hackett disregarded that statement altogether.  “Feros was impressive work.  Holding the colony against several platoons of geth would have been remarkable in its own right, but managing to soundly defeat them before reinforcements arrived is something else.”

“Thank you, sir.  It helps to have a good crew.”

“Sure, but in that sort of situation a collection of great people doesn’t add up to much without a good leader.  In light of that, I’d like to discuss a new assignment, but it requires… discretion.”

“I’ve kept a lot of secrets over the years.”

He nodded, and glanced around at the other, less senior officers Shepard didn’t recognize but guessed were his staff.  They picked up their things and filed out of the room.  Anderson followed, giving her a nod as he left.  She raised an eyebrow at Hackett.  “My crew?”

“They’re going to find out anyway.”  If Hackett was the least bit uncomfortable with Garrus listening in, it didn’t show.  “Commander, less than seventy-two hours ago, Chairman Burns disappeared from Arcturus Station.  We believe he was abducted.”

Before he could elaborate, Alenko cut in.  There was a careful quality to his tone.  “Not Martin Burns, sir?”

“Yes.”  Hackett was mildly surprised.  “He’s a relatively junior MP.  What’s your interest?”

Alenko wrinkled his nose like he smelled something foul.  “I have an L2 implant, sir.  Of course I know who Burns is.”

“Well, I don’t,” Shepard said.  “Could one of you clarify?”

Hackett glanced at Alenko.  “You seem to know at least as much as I do, Lieutenant.”

Shepard got the definite impression that Hackett preferred to listen than to talk.  He wasn’t asking Alenko because he knew less.  He was asking because he wanted to hear _how_ Alenko would describe the chairman. 

Alenko cleared his throat.  “He chairs the Parliamentary  Subcommittee for Transhuman Studies, among other things tasked with overseeing the several hundred biotics who were fitted with L2 implants in the late 60s, many of them coerced under the auspices of Conatix’s government program contract.”

Garrus, who had maintained uncustomary silence throughout the exchange, cut in with incredulity.  “Wait a moment.  Your government forced surgery on everyone with biotic aptitude?”

“Back then we didn’t know anything.”  Hackett was unapologetic.  “We felt that it was in their best interests, to avoid harming themselves or others accidentally.”

Shepard, for her part, was stuck on something else.  “ _Transhuman_ studies?”

“It was a popular word about ten years ago for describing biotics,” Alenko elaborated, flatly.

“Alright.”  She paused.  “I get the impression you don’t think much of him.”

“He’s a shoe-shiner.”  Alenko was dismissive.  “He never wanted this job, and it shows.  Some L2s have very serious medical problems related to their implants, and most of them are not able to avail themselves of navy healthcare.”  


“There are health care provisions under Alliance law-“

“It’s different when you have acute schizophrenia, or seizures, or even just plain old brain damage because the neurosurgeon who shoved the tech into your head didn’t take special care with his knife.  You need help above and beyond.  But I don’t think that’s what this incident is about.”

Hackett agreed.  “We believe the motive behind the kidnapping was the Chairman’s recent veto of proposed reparations for L2s and their families.”

Shepard turned towards Alenko, confused.  “You told me Conatix paid you off after your school shut down.”

“I’m a special case, because I was in BAaT and because I was… directly involved with the program’s termination.”  He leaned forward.  “Most of Conatix’s victims never saw a dime.  And there _was_ malpractice here, Commander.  It doesn’t excuse terrorism, not by a long shot, but we should at least be honest about how this happened.”

The admiral said mildly, “Malpractice is a strong word.  Let’s not lose sight that the Conatix program was designed to help biotics.”

Alenko folded his arms and looked away.  “I believe the Alliance had good intentions.  But they should’ve chosen their subcontractors more carefully.”

Hackett reached into a briefcase at his feet and withdrew a datapad.  “A group calling themselves ‘Biotics for Justice’ is claiming responsibility.  They’ve been on our radar for about five years, but nobody anticipated they’d ever move beyond protests and letter campaigns.”

Shepard let out a breath.  “Burns prevented the reparations bill from leaving committee, which means there _was_ a reparations bill.  Their letter writing was finally getting somewhere.”

“And then Burns pulled their feet out from under them,” Alenko finished.

“Serves them right,” Williams muttered under her breath.

Shepard’s keen ears caught it anyway.  “What was that, Chief?”

The young woman glanced over.  “Life isn’t fair, ma’am.  Should I be filing a lawsuit against the Alliance over what happened to me on Eden Prime?”

“You volunteered for what happened to you on Eden Prime,” Shepard pointed out.  “Look, I don’t know whether his reasoning was sound.  It still doesn’t give these people the right to kidnap him.”

Hackett seemed glad to return to the point.  “Exactly.  We’ve managed to track their ship.  I want you to take a boarding party and resolve this situation by any means necessary and extract Burns, alive.  We need to send a message to our rogue factions that these tactics will neither be tolerated nor successful.”

She nodded.  “Understood, Admiral.”

“Good.”  He tapped at the datapad, transferring the dossier to her omni-tool.  “Sooner would be better, Commander.”

“My ship’s departure is scheduled for 1600 hours.”  She stood as he rose.  “We’ll handle it.”

“See that you do.”  He paused.  “And try to stay away from the cameras.  You’re going to make this station too hot to hold you.”

Shepard felt her cheeks warm, but made no further reply beyond a respectful salute as the admiral departed. 

Garrus was the first to speak.  “So we’re leaving, then?”

“As scheduled,” Shepard confirmed.  “I need to stop by the Alliance outpost.”

“I have a few errands to run myself.  I’ll see you back aboard ship.” 

Shepard glanced at the two remaining occupants.  “And you?  Heading back to base?”

They both nodded.  Williams said, “I’ll find a taxi.”

She rushed off.  Her superiors followed at a somewhat more leisurely pace.  Shepard raised her eyebrows at Alenko.  “Reparations? Really?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground, as though debating with himself.  “When they were performing the first surgeries they liked to run us in pairs, thinking it would help us recover.  Having a friend there, you know.  The serial number on my implant is L2.1-003.  L2.1-004 belonged to David Tan, and I was lying three meters away from him in recovery when he suffered a grand mal seizure and died.  He was sixteen years old.  His family’s never seen so much as an apology from anyone.”

Shepard opened her mouth, closed it, and then said, “You didn’t tell me there were dead kids.”

“Yeah, believe it or not, these aren’t cherished memories of my youth.”

She watched him walk, hunched over into himself, wishing she knew the right thing to say and feeling like a heel.  She must’ve sounded so stupid back on Feros, complaining about how her big shiny job made life hard.“I guess it must seem pretty trivial when people complain about anything.”

He stopped and looked at her.  “Don’t be like that.  You know how you feel about being a spectre?  What happened to me as a teenager, or even simply being a biotic, isn’t the measure of the experience of my life either.  Feeling discontent or lonely is pretty universal regardless of your history.”

“Hey, I’m trying to be contrite over here.  Stop justifying my whining.”  Shepard grinned.

They resumed walking.  “In that case, ma’am, I’m shocked to find you displaying an unprofessional level of humanity and will definitely be filing a report.”

She shoved him, playfully.  He pushed back.  They half fell out of the stairwell onto the Presidium walk, laughing. 

Williams was waiting by the taxi stand.  She rolled her eyes.  “If you’re quite finished acting like children, the car’s going to be here any second.”

The three of them piled into the cab.  It soared out over the lake, merging with the heavy traffic that persisted throughout the Presidium day and night.  The scale of the ring never ceased to astound Shepard.  The largest station Alliance station she ever called home would fit inside a mere quarter of it easily.  And the Citadel’s residents lavished space on aesthetics, something unheard of on smaller, less well-endowed stations.  The lake itself was an extravagance, but it was dotted with fountains and bridges, and the floor of the ring showed ample amounts of green space- parks, plazas, gardens.  Only the gentle curve of the projected sky and the long bowed lines of offices and apartments clinging to the walls gave away the fact that they weren’t standing on planetary rock.

They were approaching the mass relay monument.  Williams peered at it from the window.  “You know, I don’t usually care for sculpture, but this I like.”

“I hate it,” Shepard said flatly.  “Every time I get within twenty meters of the thing, it feels like I’ve got a bee trapped in my skull going crazy trying to get out.”

“The buzzing’s pretty bad,” Alenko agreed.  “Makes my teeth tingle.  Maybe it’s something to do with wind currents whistling around the two long arms.  You could get one hell of a vibrational feedback loop going.”

Williams looked at them blankly.  “What buzzing?”

They exchanged a glance.  Shepard said, “You don’t hear that?”

“It’s high frequency, on the edge of audible range,” Alenko reasoned.

“There’s nothing wrong with my hearing, sir.”  Williams sat back and crossed her arms. 

Shepard crossed her legs under her skirt, amused.  “Don’t tell me you want to be bothered by the annoying as hell noise.”

Williams snorted, but opted to change the subject.  “I think we’re coming up on the base.  Say what you like about how the Council treats us, the Alliance has some pretty nice digs here.”

Alenko said, “After the turians, we’re the largest fleet in the galaxy.  They do like that.”

“Except when they’re worried about human aggression,” Shepard pointed out.

He chuckled.  “The Alliance spends half its time worried about human aggression.  Historically speaking, we’re our own biggest threat.  You can’t exactly blame the other species for having the same concern.”

The cab dropped them by the hatch, where two uniformed guards saluted as they entered.  Shepard looked around, getting her bearings.  “I need to find the mail stop.”

“I need to find the exchange,” Williams said.  “After that siege on Feros, my utilities are trashed.”

Williams left Eden Prime without any clothing besides her hard suit.  They got her sufficiently outfitted to satisfy regs during their first visit to the Citadel, but she didn’t have any uniforms to spare.  Shepard nodded.  “Alright.  We’ll see you back at the ship.”

“Ma’am.”  Williams saluted, and took her leave. 

Shepard and Alenko made their way to the mail stop and gave their names to the serviceman on duty.  He went to the back to collect their parcels while they waited at the counter.  When he came out, he handed Alenko a large box and Shepard small package along with an envelope.

She slit open the envelope first.  Paper mail was a rarity in these days.  It was a card with _Congrats on your new job!_ emblazoned in tacky bubble letters on the front.  Bemused, she flipped to the inside.

_Here’s to finding whole new ways to sit on your ass all day, you lucky bitch. <3 Im_

_PS- Sorry I couldn’t make it.  I was stuck out in the Verge.  You know how it is._

Shepard laughed, shaking her head.  Alenko raised an eyebrow. 

“Old colleague,” she explained, holding up the card.  “We trained together.  If you think I’m nuts…”

“Ah.”  He pulled out a pocket knife and slit the tape on his own package.

She craned her neck.  “What’ve you got?”

“It’s from my parents.”  He flipped open the lid, pulling out a plastic tub and holding it out to her.  “Chocolate chip cookies, as promised.”

Shepard smirked and made a show of opening it up and taking a bite.  “Thank you.”

His expression could have wilted lettuce.  “You are a complete brat.”

“You are a complete brat…?”

He rolled his eyes.  “You are a brat, _ma’am_.  And I rest my case.”

She snickered again and took another bite of the cookie.  Alenko reached back into the box and pulled out the second item, a folded blue blanket.

Shepard eyed it.  “Your mom knit you a blanket?”

“I mentioned in an email that the _Normandy’s_ thermostat could use some adjustment.  I guess she took it to heart.  Anyway, I think it’s crocheted.”  When she gave him a look, he sighed.  “What?  She doesn’t knit.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that your mom freaking made you an entire blanket because you said it was cold.”

“My mom is…”  He looked up at the ceiling.  “She’s kind of a walking anachronism.  She makes things by hand.  Someone moves in down the hall, someone dies, someone has a baby or gets sick, she’s always the first one to show up with a casserole.  She volunteers.”

Shepard chewed and swallowed.  “She sounds like a nice person.  But, I mean, we have blankets on the ship.”

“It’s not politically correct to say so, and I’ve never found a way to ask why I’m an only child that wouldn’t be terminally awkward, but I think all she really wanted out of life was to be someone’s mom.”  He shrugged.  “Ok, so it’s a little embarrassing sometimes, but it makes her happy.  It’s hardly a big price to pay for that.”

Understanding dawned.  “She wanted to be a career mother, and her son spent half his childhood with someone else.”

“That’s not all of it, but that’s part of it, sure.”

“It’s also a little because you like home baked cookies and hand-crocheted blankets?”

He laughed.  “You don’t?”

Shepard glanced down at the tub.  “You weren’t wrong about these cookies, that’s for damn sure.  Are you certain she doesn’t put in anything that would fail a tox screen?”

“Pretty sure.  I mean, she’s from Singapore.”  Alenko checked inside the box to be certain he hadn’t missed anything, and then pitched the empty container in the trash and folded the blanket over his arm.  “I have a few more errands to run myself.  I’ll be at the dock by 1500 hours.”

“1430 would be better if you can manage it.  I’ve got some things to review with the officers.”

“Sure thing.”  He offered her a nod, and took off towards the exchange.

Shepard tucked the card into a pocket and the cookies along with her package under her arm.  It wasn’t the sort of thing she wanted to open out in public.  For a few minutes she considered various ways to kill time on a rare bit of shore leave, before deciding to take Hackett’s advice and get back to her ship.  Dealing with reporters and gawkers was more of a morning endeavor.

She was stopped all the same several times as she left the base, by fellow soldiers wanting to offer their support, sate their curiosity, or ask for favors.  Shepard managed to shake off the last one by posing for a quick picture.  As she stepped through the hatch back out into the ward, she was forced to navigate a throng of civilians gathering during the lunch hour to petition the stream of Alliance personnel, along with a few panhandlers.  The Citadel had its problems with poverty just like everywhere else.  Those parts of it that were human looked to the Alliance for support, also just like everywhere else.  C-Sec might be taking on more humans every year but the trust just wasn’t there yet.

One of them rattled his can under her nose.  “Credit to spare for an old vet, ma’am?”

“Sorry,” she muttered, pushing around him.

He blinked.  “I don’t believe it.  You’re Hannah Shepard’s little girl, aren’t you?”

She turned and narrowed her eyes.  Her family and the other personal details of her life were hardly private these days, and using them to try to extort money from her was beyond the pale.  “Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, no, you got it all wrong.”  He held out his hand.  He wore fingerless gloves matted with dirt.  “I’m Ernesto Zabaleta.  I served with your mother on the _SSV Einstein_ , years ago.  She brought you on board a couple of times when you were a kid- I still remember those braids you used to wear.”

Shepard couldn’t recall the man or the name, which was odd for her, but the details of his story checked out.  Her mom had liked giving her tours of the ships when she was in port, and showing off her daughter to her colleagues.  Both of her parents served aboard the _Einstein_ for years.  Shepard herself had lived in its overcrowded family barracks, for a few months here and there, when they couldn’t make other arrangements.  Housing conditions for families on even large carriers were spartan and limited.

She shook his hand.  He smelled faintly of sour booze.  “I’m sorry, I don’t remember you, mister… Zabaleta, you said?”

“You got it.”  He sat back on his heels, smiling broadly, and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops.  “Man, Hannah and I go way back.  She must be so proud of you.”

“So I hear.”  Shepard actually hadn’t seen more than a short email from her mother since all this began.  “If you’re a veteran, what’re you doing out here begging for credits?  The VA too good for you?”

Zabaleta’s grin faded.  “I don’t like it there, is all.”

“They make you stop drinking?” she asked dryly.

“It ain’t that simple.  Sure I drink some, so does everyone, it takes the edge off some things…”  He trailed off.  “Aw, hell, you don’t want to hear about this, I’m sorry.”

On that point, he was entirely correct.  Though she suspected him of lying through his teeth, on the off-chance that he was being honest, she made a final stab.  “You know, whatever those things are, they have people at the VA trained to deal with it.  It’s worth giving it another shot, and it sure beats panhandling.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, in a tone that meant he was going to ignore every word.  “Hey, say hi to your mom for me, would you?”

She forced a smile.  “Of course.”

 


	29. Chairman Burns

Hackett’s dossier on the biotic extremists stated the group rented a merchant ship, the _MSV Ontario_ , from an agency aboard the Citadel a little less than two weeks prior.  They laundered the transaction through an unidentified third party, and so nobody caught it when it entered Arcturus airspace.  From there, using a small shuttle attached to the ship, the extremists boarded the station, abducted Burns on the way to his home during the late evening hours, and left the system shortly thereafter in a perfectly legal and open manner.  It was the next morning before anyone realized Burns was missing, by which time the _Ontario_ was long gone.

Shepard skimmed the description of how intelligence forensics traced the ship.  It was fascinating, but irrelevant to her part of this mission.  The long and short of it was that the evidence pointed to the Hades Gamma cluster, known rather more romantically as the Crab Nebula in centuries past, today a nexus for galactic trade.  The Anansi-Ishtar shipping lane wound between the Farinata and Cacus systems, bringing with it an ample crowd of vessels in which to hide.  Not all of them were traders.  There were refueling ships, supply haulers, even entertainment.  Amid all that, Shepard wasn’t optimistic about quickly identifying one merchant freighter making an effort to disguise its signal.

They were about a day out from Farinata.  And Shepard was out of excuses for a less pleasant chore.  She set down the datapad, shrugged into her leather jacket, and left her cabin, heading for the stairs.

Specialist Lowe saluted.  “Commander.  What can I do for you?”

“At ease, Specialist.  I need to make a transmission to the _SSV Kilimanjaro._ ” 

“Of course, ma’am.”  Lowe entered a command into her terminal.  “The call is for her commanding officer?”

“No, the executive officer, Captain Shepard.”

Lowe paused and started to ask the question, then caught sight of her face and swallowed it.  “Yes, ma’am.  It should take twenty minutes or so to clear it through channels.”

“Page me when you have it.”  Shepard left the CIC and made her way to the bridge.

There wasn’t much for a pilot to do while they were cruising at FTL speeds between destinations.  Once a course was plotted, only equipment malfunctions or large uncharted celestial objects would do much to alter it.  Joker was leaning back in his pleather couch, watching a news vid.

Shepard rested her arms on the back of the seat.  “Flight Lieutenant.”

He glanced up.  “Hey, Commander.  You really ruffled some feathers back on the Citadel.  I don’t think ANN has stopped running that clip.”

A smug grin crossed her lips.  “Good.”

“Sometimes I think you get a sadistic kick out of making people uncomfortable.”

“You know what feeling uncomfortable means, Joker?”  She glanced from the news report to her pilot.  “It means people are thinking about their assumptions.  It’s not supposed to be comfortable.”

“Well, whatever it means, you’ve got people talking.  They’re talking about Feros, too.”

“Is that right?”  Even as she spoke, the report flipped to a holo they’d taken at the colonists’ request, of the crew grinning in front of the _Normandy_.  The population of Feros was very grateful regardless of the official ExoGeni, Alliance, or Council stance. 

“They’re careful to give us credit for saving their asses, but…”

She sighed.  “But what?”

“A lot of them are asking how we managed to let Saren slip away a second time.  People are angry, Commander.”

“Saren wasn’t even planetside by the time we got there,” she protested.

“Don’t have to convince me.”  Joker dismissed the vid screen, replacing it with an operations summary of _Normandy’s_ systems.  “They sent a frigate to fight a war.  You get what you pay for.”

“We’re going to get this bastard, Joker.  I don’t care how many ships or units he has.”

“I don’t doubt it.  Honestly pissing you off while packing anything less than a full armada is bringing a knife to a gunfight.”

“There’s cause for anger, sure.  But that’s not why we’re going to win.” 

Joker rolled his eyes.  “Is this the point where I hold myself at attention and zone out for twenty minutes while you spout some patriotic mumbo-jumbo?  ‘Cause I got enough of that back in basic.”

“I looked up some things about Saren.  He was a golden boy of the Hierarchy, one of the youngest spectres ever appointed, the cherished son of the strongest military in the galaxy.  He’s been showered with accolades, money, and prestige.  Great in a firefight, but he’s never had to really fight for anything he wanted, not once in his entire life.”

“So he’s got a sense of entitlement to make teenaged heiress blush.  So what?”

“Think about it, Joker.  He didn’t come after us with one big boat and a sense of conviction.  He planned this for years and only tipped his hand after he had an army.  He’s cocky, he’s cautious, and he’s never been on the outside.  This is a whole new world.”  Her smile was small, grim, and fierce.  “I’m scrappy, I’m stubborn, I’m a complete pain the ass, this is my turf and I am quite simply better at this than him.  That’s why we’ll win.”

The comm crackled from the ceiling.  “Ma’am, your transmission is ready in the comm room.”

“Got it.”  She clapped Joker on the shoulder.  “As you were, Flight Lieutenant.”

She walked the length of the ship aft to the comm room, letting the hatch shut behind her, and took a deep breath before hitting the switch.  Zabaleta’s bizarre claim made for a nice reason to call, but the truth was they only spoke a few times a year.  They were due another conversation.

The woman who materialized on the pad could have been Shepard, aged another thirty years.  There were some cursory differences- her short, silvered hair, the fine lines at her eyes and mouth, the alabaster skin Shepard had too much of her father’s blood to match- but the fine bone structure of their faces, the twilight blue of their eyes, even their remarkable height and bearing were nearly identical.  Her mother’s dress uniform, standard for high-ranking officers aboard dreadnoughts, was clean and pressed.

“This is the X.O.,” she said crisply, before taking in who was calling.  Then she was dismissive.  “Oh, hi.  I’m on duty.  I can’t exactly talk right now.”

“It’s fine, I’m busy too.”  After so long, Shepard no longer allowed her mother’s brusqueness to bother her. 

Hannah, however, seemed to feel a touch of remorse.  “I’m sorry I haven’t called.  The Fifth Fleet’s been stretched thin as cobwebs since the invasion.  Did you get the flowers?”

“I did.”  She paused, willing herself to say a simple thank you and move on, but the temptation for sarcasm was overwhelming.  “The daisies were an especially nice touch.”

Her brow furrowed.  “What’s wrong with-“

“I’m _allergic_ to daisies, mom.”  Shepard was exasperated.  “They give me hives.”

“Oh.”  Hannah was chagrined.  “Of course you are, I’d...  Your father always handled all the doctor’s appointments and forms…  Well.  Congratulations all the same.”

Shepard buried her disappointment alongside the feeble hope she entertained every single time they spoke, despite her better judgment.  “Just forget it.”

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“I said it’s not a big deal.”  Before they could continue down that path, Shepard grasped at a new topic.  “How are you?”

“There’s not much I can talk about.  Alliance High Command has everyone out on patrol, but there’s just not enough of us.”  Hannah blew out a breath.  “How do you like having your own ship?”

“It’s…”  Shepard trailed off, shrugging into her jacket.  _A lot more work than I thought it would be.  A lot more worrying, too.  Being responsible for the lives of a handful of people for a few days at a time is a whole other thing from more than forty, all the time.  Everything’s riding on me and I’m hardly closer to stopping Saren or finding the conduit than I was when I got the mission.  Statistically, on a mission like this some of them are going to die, and I don’t want it to be because I wasn’t sure what to do._

But she knew how those conversations went.  Mom would say something bracing about keeping her chin up or her head in the game, brush it off as something every officer experienced, or spin some tangential yarn from her own service that was supposed to teach Shepard a lesson.  Hannah was well-meaning- indeed, it would hurt her to know the advice wasn’t always received in that spirit- but Shepard wearied of being lectured over every small disclosure when she was just looking for a bit of parental support.

“It’s great,” she said brightly.  “The ship is phenomenal, and Anderson picked out a terrific team.”

“David’s always had a soft spot for you.  But I’m shocked he’s letting you run your mouth like I’ve seen lately.  Also, you’ve got to start remembering to have your uniforms pressed.”

There it was, the inevitable chastisement.  She rubbed her forehead.  “For god’s sake, mom.”

“You know better, Nathaly.  It’s not your job to set policy for the navy.”

“I don’t believe I was, _ma’am_.”

“There’s no need to take a tone.”  Hannah was indignant.  “You have a big podium now.  Take some care in how you use it.  You’ve got to keep it together, sweetheart, because when you have hysterics it reflects on us all.”

“Hysterics,” Shepard echoed, flatly. 

Hannah adopted an air of patience, as though her daughter were the one being unreasonable.  “All I meant was that you are a commissioned officer, and there’s something to be said for acting like it, instead of a-”

“I’m just going to stop you right there.”  She swallowed and pressed on before her temper could get the better of her.  Hannah always seemed to win those rounds by sheer maternal right of way.  “I’m calling because I ran into this guy, Zabaleta?  He claimed he was an old friend of yours.  I wouldn’t have bothered you, but these days more and more people are trying to get something out of abusing my name.”

“Ernesto?”  She was taken aback.  “He was a marine guard in the CIC, back on the _Einstein._   We shared a watch for years.  How is he?”

“Not well.  He was begging for credits outside the Alliance outpost.”

Her face fell.  “I’m sorry to hear that.  He was one of the first boots down on Mindoir during the batarian raid… He was never the same afterwards.”

“That was the year after dad got hurt, right?”  Shepard shook her head.  “That was a bad business.  Small wonder the Council ended up ruling for the Alliance on colonization in the Skyllian Verge, after that.”

“The vids couldn’t show the half of it.  Those slaving bastards _culled_ anyone too old or young to be useful, or putting up too much of a fight to be worth the trouble.  The rest they implanted with control rods, directly into the brainstem, without anesthetic.  I coordinated the orbital offense, preventing their ships from escaping, and just listening to what was happening on the ground…”  Hannah trailed off, her eyes distant.  “It was horrifying.”

A few choice horrors flashed through Shepard’s mind, courtesy of her own memory banks.  Some of the atrocities on Elysium weren’t that different and the Terminus made the batarians look squeamish.  She tried to be fair.  Her mother wasn’t a marine, and she sure as hell wasn’t special forces.  Zabaleta was just a guard.  “So, what, he has PTSD from what he saw?”

“Wouldn’t anyone?”

Shepard gritted her teeth.  “I don’t.”  _And I never got half this much sympathy from you about it, either._

Her mother sighed.  “Most people aren’t as strong as you, Nathaly.  It’s a gift.  Lt. Zabaleta doesn’t have it.  He tried to keep going, to be a good soldier, but it rode him- showed up late, showed up drunk.  Eventually we couldn’t cover for him anymore.”

“He was discharged.”

“Yes.”  She stared at the ground.  “I spoke at his hearing.  We managed to get him a medical discharge rather than a dishonorable, so he could get the help he needed, but he’s never taken advantage of it.  It’s a shame.”

“He let one experience ruin his entire life.”

“Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones,” her mother chided.

Shepard bristled.  “An event that _changes_ your life is different from destroying it.”

“I should get back to the CIC,” Hannah said, not wanting to reopen old arguments.  “I know you must be working twenty hour days, but we should try to schedule time soon for a real talk.”

“Sure,” she said, not meaning it.  “I’ll talk to you later.”

She reached for the button to terminate the call.  Her mother looked up.  “Nathaly, I also wanted to say this- I’m so very proud of you.  I don’t think I tell you that enough.”

Shepard’s expression softened, marginally.  She wanted to be irritated by her mother’s laissez-faire approach to family, enjoy feeling justified and angry for a little while, and then mom went and said something like that.  _Damn it._   “Thanks.  I’m… I’m trying.”

“You try better than anyone I’ve ever met.”  That was a left-handed compliment if Shepard ever heard one.  “ _Kilimanjaro_ out.”

 The link went dead.  Shepard blew out a long breath, leaning forward and staring down at the pad.  It was hard to reconcile the woman who’d thrown her handmade art in the trash because “cards become clutter once they’re read” with the one who hugged her like her life depended on it when she came home from a deployment.  The years weren’t making it any easier. 

She always hoped it would, that somehow her forward venture into adulthood would cross trajectories with Hannah’s stately tumble into age, but it never seemed to happen.  Shepard was used to seeing to herself; she grew up on ships and space stations, not infrequently under minimal supervision, and all but put herself through school with educational vids and workbooks.  It was one reason why she had so many difficulties assimilating into a standard high school on Mars.  Personal responsibility was a skill she mastered before she measured her age in double-digits.  She didn’t _need_ an elder female figure who might commiserate or offer sage guidance.

But sometimes, the idea sounded really, really nice.

The hatch slid open, admitting Tali’Zorah.  “I’m sorry, am I interrupting?”

“No.  Just stupidly wishing my mom knew how to bake cookies.”

Tali strayed closer.  “That was your mother?”

Shepard rubbed her face, looked down at the pad.  “Yeah.  It always feels more like talking to a C.O. than a parent.”

Tali grimaced.  “My father… he’s a difficult man.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile.  You have my sympathy.”

She narrowly avoided the obvious, and insensitive, question about the masks, and instead asked, “You’ve mentioned he’s some kind of leader.  I’m not familiar with how the flotilla’s government works.”

Tali twisted her hands, and unconscious gesture.  “My father, Rael’Zorah, is one of five high-ranking military officers who form the Admiralty Board.  Technically, the flotilla is still under martial law, but three hundred years is a long time.  These days, most of our laws are decided by the Conclave, whose members are elected from each ship.”

Shepard blinked.  “So, your father essentially heads the quarian military fleet?”

“…something like that.”  Tali was embarrassed.  “They also advise the Conclave, and can overrule them in dire circumstances.  But the decision must be unanimous, and all five admirals resign following.”

She processed that.  “Hypothetically speaking, if the _Normandy_ came under attack with you on board, just how large a diplomatic incident would it create with the Migrant Fleet?”

“It doesn’t work like that.”  Tali sighed.  “I’m just me.  My father’s rank doesn’t confer any special privileges on his daughter.  There’s always been a lot of expected of me, though.”

She sounded wistful.  Shepard leaned back against the guardrail.  “You know, a few months after my grandmother died, I saw a piece of jewelry in some tourist shop wherever we were living then.  I was about eleven.  It reminded me of her and I started to cry.  My mother told me to stop being so dramatic.”

“When my mother died, after we were left alone with the body, my father patted my arm and told me I’d be fine.  That was all.”

“Alright, you win.”  Shepard shook her head, bemused.  “We sound like Liara.”

That got a light laugh.  “It’s not like Liara at all, not really, at least not for me.  Everyone respects the asari.  Nobody respects us.”

“Well, you do strip-mine every promising planet you pass, and sometimes you take other people’s jobs with under-the-table deals,” Shepard pointed out.

“Nobody owns a job, Shepard.  If they can’t compete that’s not our problem.  Besides, that doesn’t justify treating us like thieves or vandals.”

“I don’t believe I said it did.  Disliking the business practices of the Migrant Fleet isn’t carte blanche for bigotry.”  She shrugged, and moved the discussion back to center, curious.  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“No.  There are seventeen million people living in the flotilla.  We have a very strict one child policy that is rarely rescinded.”

Shepard raised her eyebrows.  Replacement rate was just about 2.1 children per woman- one child to replace each parent and a little extra to account for child mortality.  “The quarians are trying to shrink their population?  No offense, but… aren’t there kind of not many of you left?”

“The fleet is very crowded.”  Tali glanced around the comm room.  “This ship holds about forty crew?  A similar sized vessel back home might house three hundred.”

Shepard blinked.   She couldn’t begin to imagine it.  “Fuck me.  And people live like that?”

“We’re used to it.  Both the living conditions, and the law.”

“A few nations back on Earth tried similar policies, last century.”

Tali tilted her head.  “I’m sorry, I think my translator just fritzed...  Did you say nation?  That’s a very archaic word.”

“Not for humans.”  Shepard laughed.  “The other species have had centuries to sort themselves into neatly unified governments.  Out here, it’s the Systems Alliance, just barely- a lot of colonies considered themselves independent, or want to.  But back on Earth, they’re just one of many.  It’s a reason the Alliance is headquartered on Arcturus Station instead of Earth.  Give it a few more decades, and maybe...”

The comm crackled overhead.  “Commander, you’ve got a strategy session in the CIC.”

“Roger that.”  She rolled her eyes at Tali.  “Duty calls.  Sorry for tying you up.”

“It’s not a problem.  There’s a quarian ship in dock.  I have a few contacts aboard, and I thought I’d see if they had any information on the _Ontario._   You never know.”

/\/\/\/\/\

It took some time, but they managed to locate the _MSV Ontario_ hiding quietly behind an asteroid.  Asteroid belts weren’t terribly crowded, excepting odd cases like the Sparta system where debris rained down on Edolus day and night.  They occupied huge swaths of space with the same mass as a terrestrial planet.  However, a good-sized planetoid had enough bulk to shield a ship from ladar scans and other detection methods.  Even observed head-on the ship would be little more than a blip of heat superimposed against cold rock without much resolution.

_Normandy’s_ stealth capabilities were fully engaged as they took some recon on the rented vessel.  Shepard had spent the time in transit studying its layout and systems, all publically available information.  Now she had scans to confirm the extremists had not altered the ship substantially.  They could make educated guesses on where aboard the biotics were holding Burns, but these were approximations only.  The ship appeared to lack armaments.  Defenses were standard-grade commercial stuff common to most freighters.

Pressly was in favor of maintaining stealth, forcibly board, and sweep everything out before the extremists knew what hit them.  Shepard had to admit the plan had the advantage of simplicity.  These people weren’t hard-boiled; they’d done this out of desperation, not experience.  There was a decent chance that when her marines swarmed the deck they’d panic rather than erect a rational defense.  Of course, there was also a chance that panicked or not, their first order of business would be to shoot Burns in the head.

Garrus disagreed vehemently.  His experience with C-Sec taught him that if the objective was to keep anyone alive, and there was any chance the enemy was open to negotiation, delicacy and caution were required.  In his words, if all they wanted was to send a message and end the crisis, the _Normandy_ could blow up the whole ship from a couple hundred klicks away.  He recommended hailing the _Ontario_ and attempting to talk their way on board.  Warning the hostiles they were coming, however, significantly raised the risks for _Normandy_ personnel.

Alenko was uncustomarily silent throughout their debate.  While he never used twenty words where one would suffice, he was an active contributor in most strategy sessions, offering input on what his marines could realistically achieve and pointing out any flaws or advantages he noticed in the plan.  Today, he’d hardly said two words unless asked a direct question.  Shepard wagered she understood.  It was difficult not to sympathize with these people’s despair, and she didn’t even know any L2s other than Alenko himself nor was she deeply familiar with their plight.  In contrast, the mission dossier had included background on the Chairman, and he was a difficult figure to admire; it seemed as though nearly every decision he made was politically motivated rather than aimed at improving the lives of his constituents.  Biotics, particularly L2 biotics, were not numerous and they worried ordinary people.  The reparations bill had not been popular.  Alenko would never fail to do his duty, not unlike Shepard in that regard, but that didn’t mean orders always sat well.

Shepard sided with Garrus.  Admiral Hackett was clear that any outcome which included Burns’ death would be considered a failure, and Shepard didn’t fail.  They made contact.

The biotics’ representative, a nervous dark-haired man with splotches on his face, was startled by their transmission.  That didn’t indicate much forward-thinking beyond persistence.  The idea that the navy might do anything other than accept the loss of Burns or capitulate to their demands seemed not to have entered their minds.  Shepard was pleased.  It left her room to maneuver. 

She coaxed him into agreeing to allow a contingent to board in order to discuss terms of cessation.  There was no need to let on that the only terms Shepard was willing to accept were their full unconditional surrender or deaths.  She argued for a party of five, but the rep stuck stubbornly to three, which told her something about their probable numbers.  If they were worried about being outmatched by five trained marines, then there weren’t that many people behind this abduction.

Garrus’ policeman training made him a no-brainer.  This wasn’t Shepard’s first hostage situation but she appreciated his expertise.  For her second support, she reluctantly selected Alenko.  Liara might outpace him in sheer depth of understanding when it came to the use of biotics, but she wasn’t familiar with human politics and Shepard worried if the discussion took a bad turn, she would be unwilling or unable to do what was required.  On the other hand, Alenko might share some of the same reservations. 

As they cycled through the airlock and waited for _Normandy’s_ decontamination protocols to complete, she gave him a sidelong look.  “You up for this?”

He stared ahead at the door.  “Yes, ma’am.”

“You’ve been pretty quiet.  Something weighing on your mind?”

“No, ma’am.”  He glanced at her, unreadable.  “These people kidnapped an MP, and that can’t stand.  Our orders are clear.  There won’t be a problem.”

Her gaze lingered on him before the VI chimed softly, announcing that they could open the outer hatch. 

They stepped into the hostile ship.  Two guards toting handguns greeted them barrel-first.  Neither wore armor, and both bore implant scars near their hairline.  Shepard blessed their inexperience; they didn’t try to disarm them as they were escorted into the depths of the ship.  Her crew was fully outfitted, including hardsuits, and ready for a fight if needed.

The biotics did take a different approach to defense.  Heavy crates were piled against interior hatches, obstacles that could have eaten up significant time for Shepard’s team if they were trying to take the ship, but their guards working together cleared them with ease using their abilities.  They came across a few more pairs of armed extremists, maybe eight people total.  Shepard wagered there weren’t more than a dozen aboard.  That was manageable, though their facility in flinging around heavy objects in a confined space concerned her more than she let on.

Shepard, Garrus, and Alenko were led into a side room where they were met by quite the tableau.

Burns, still dressed in the suit he was wearing back on Arcturus, was on his knees with his hands folded behind his head, staring with resignation at the cross-hatched metal floor.  The biotics’ negotiator was poised behind him, the snout of a pistol snug against the Chairman’s skull.  He was flanked by two sullen-faced women, similarly armed, who aimed directly at Shepard and her team.  As they moved into the room, their guards took up positions at the rear corners and raised their guns.

Shepard looked around with an almost bored expression, though her mind was engaged in the crucial calculus of how it would happen if the extremists’ fingers got twitchy.  She wouldn’t bet on any of them being good shots, but on the other hand, she wouldn’t bet that the guns were for anything but show, either.  It was difficult to look threatening when your real weapons lay entirely within your brain. 

Her own people were watching as well.  Garrus’ attention wandered at regularly intervals between the man and the guards, though Alenko seemed fixated on the guard at the front left.  She was staring back him with one of the most disgusted expressions Shepard had ever seen.

_Don’t do anything stupid, Kaidan._ Aloud, she said, “I’m Commander Shepard.  Let’s not do anything we’re going to regret.”

“You write a thousand letters and get nowhere,” their leader sneered, burying the muzzle yet deeper into Burns’ hair.  “You kidnap one politico and now I’ve got a spectre on my ship, negotiating with me.  Force is all you people understand.”

Shepard crossed her arms, utterly relaxed despite the brandished weaponry.  “You wanted someone to listen, and you’ve got my undivided attention.  What do you want to talk about?”

He stared at her, nonplussed.  She gave it another try.  “I’ve told you my name.  Why don’t we start with yours?”

“Jordan Brenner.”  He cleared his throat.

“Jordan, you have your audience.  Speak.  I didn’t come all this way to hear myself talk.”

Naturally, her failure to be impressed by his show of force only irritated him.  “You don’t know what it’s like.  What your damn government did to us.”

“I know a little, but I don’t mind hearing more.”  Might as well let him blow off steam by ranting a bit.

“They sent out health officers to register us like infected livestock.  They told our parents that we were uncontrolled and dangerous, so they’d let the Conatix people play with our brains.  Some L2s are crippled by the effects of their implants, and they can’t get the help they need.”

Here he raised his voice, jamming the gun hard into Burns.  “Because this man decided scoring some points with a group of fearful, ignorant-“

“I was trying to help,” Burns protested.

“Shut up!”  The muscles in Jordan’s neck were taunt, a sign of his rising rage.  “Ships were detonated over our colonies to deliberately expose us to eezo!”

Shepard lowered her hands to her waist, hooking her thumbs through her utility belt- closer to her weapons but not touching them, not yet. 

Garrus said, “There’s no need to get loud.  We’re all friends here.”

The woman at the back disengaged from her staring contest with Alenko and laughed, an ugly sound.  Her dark cheeks were sunken, her black hair flat and grimy in its tail.  “Friends.  How friendly were you when you abducted children from their homes and used them as experimental test subjects?”

Shepard started to respond, but Alenko beat her to it.  “That’s not how it happened, Lamai.”

She and Garrus both turned to look at him.  His hand had strayed to his sidearm, but his eyes were on the woman.  He didn’t look angry, only resigned, with a touch of sadness.  “You know it’s not.  Nobody at Brain Camp knew what they were doing, but most of them were honestly trying to help us.”

“Kaidan.”  She was scornful.  “I heard you sold out, but until today I didn’t believe it.  What, the spectre dig you up to try to sweet talk us?  That’s some quick staff work.”

“I was already on the ship,” he said placidly.  “Come on.  You remember Ms. Gillespie and those horrible spaghetti dinners every Sunday, to try to make us feel like a family?  Or Mr. Beranek.  He used to smuggle in network games for us.”

“We were held there for _nine years_.  They had no idea what these implants would do because the government told them there wasn’t enough time to test anything-“

“Dr. Deserres lost her job for speaking out against the pace of the surgeries after David died, and she wasn’t the only one.  They tried to protect-”

“What would Rahna think if she saw you with a gun in your hand?” Lamai spat.  There was a cruel edge to the question that Shepard didn’t quite follow.

Alenko swallowed.  If he had a reply, it died on his lips. 

Shepard jumped back in.  “The Alliance made some mistakes in how it’s treated all of you.  But you’re making a mistake just as large, right now, that’s going to hurt every human biotic from here back to Sol.”

Jordan scoffed.  “The only mistake we’ve made was not taking action earlier.”

“Think about it,” Garrus said.  “Take a good look around.  Do you think when people read about how you kidnapped and executed a government official they’re going to care about your medical problems?  Or do you think it’ll just make all biotics look like terrorists, maybe lead to more registries and restrictions?”

They exchanged uneasy glances.  Shepard pressed the point.  “If Burns dies, there is nothing I can do for you.  Let him go, and you’ll have a chance to tell your story, one way or another.”

Burns made another plea from the floor.  “You’re right.  I did vote against the bill.  I thought you were just another special interest group trying to wring money out of Parliament.  But I was wrong, and I’m sorry for it.  I’m willing to reconsider.”

The biotic leader’s hand wavered.  “So, what, we walk out of here and trust Burns to keep his word?”

“Oh, no, you’re definitely going to prison.”  On that point, Shepard left no room for objection.  “But if you cooperate now, you’ll get what you want anyway.  There’s going to be a hundred journalists dying to hear you out.  Clearly, you’re acquainted with the power of symbols.”

“If you can’t trust Burns, trust the Commander,” Alenko said, finding his voice again and throwing another dose of persuasion on the growing pile.  “She may not be a biotic but she does understand.  She’ll make sure Burns follows through on his promises.”

“And there’s this.”  Shepard followed Alenko’s carrot with a stick.  “If you move to kill him, while I respect your talents, mine are also fairly impressive.  I don’t want to shoot anyone but don’t think for a moment that will stop me if you don’t make the smart choice.”

Jordan closed his eyes.  The gun drew back a fraction.

Lamai grabbed his arm, holding it in place.  “Jordan!”

“This is what we came here to do, Lamai.”

“We came here to send a message,” she hissed.  “And you’re letting them steal our stage for a handful of empty words.”

“That’s not what we discussed.”  He shook his head.  “It’s not what Kyle would want us to do.”

“Kyle didn’t want any of this.  If we’d listened to him, we’d still be writing sad notes to Parliament right now.”  Her tone was pleading.  “Jordan, they’re doing it again.  They’re using Ascension to lure in new recruits, you’ve heard about the graduates disappearing-“

“Alleged disappearances.”  He took a breath.  “No.  We’ve got everything we wanted.  It’s time to end this.”  Jordan lowered the pistol.  “It’s over.”

“It’s not over until we make this bastard pay for what he did.”  Lamai swung her weapon towards Burns.

Shepard’s hand closed around her gun, but before she could draw Lamai was lifted off her feet and flew the short distance to the far wall, which she struck with some force.  Alenko advanced on her with a pistol trained on her head.  She stared up at him woozily.

“You never did learn how to keep your barriers up.”  He sighed.  “Time to drop the gun, Lamai.”

She spat on the floor, and flung it towards him.  It missed.  “I supposed I should be grateful you didn’t snap my neck.”

The expression crossed Alenko’s face so quickly that Shepard couldn’t be certain she’d seen it at all.  It was the angriest look he’d ever worn in her presence, and more than a little ill.

Shepard kept her gun drawn but aimed at the floor.  She raised an eyebrow at Jordan. 

“Stand down,” he ordered his own people, who relaxed immediately.  Most of them looked more relieved than upset despite their pending arrest.

“Tell them to lay down their arms,” she instructed.

He snapped a look at his crew.  “Do it.”

Garrus collected their weapons and began binding up their hands.  They offered no resistance.  Alenko kept watch over Lamai until the turian could reach her.

Shepard glanced at Jordan as Garrus secured him.  “Who’s Kyle?”

“I don’t have anything to say about that.”

“I think that you will, but it can be someone else’s problem.”  She turned away slightly at put her hand to her ear.  “Shepard to _Normandy_.  The hostage is secured, repeat, the hostage is secured.  Situation is green.  We have taken the perpetrators into custody, prepare to receive.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard was on a comm link to Hackett.  “No, sir, that’s when they capitulated.  We’ve got the extremists in custody and Burns is aboard.  We’re headed back to Council space.”

“Good work, Commander.  I’ll admit I’m shocked you were able to work things out peacefully.”

“These weren’t diehards, sir.”  Shepard folded her hands behind her back smoothly.  “These were a handful of desperate individuals who just wanted a little acknowledgement that they’d been wronged and a little money to cope with it, that’s all.”

“They had enough scruples and conviction to pull off the abduction of a government official from the headquarters of the Systems Alliance, in the heart of human space.  Don’t kid yourself, Commander- these people are dangerous.”

“Children were separated from their families and left without any protection against people who used them as guinea pigs.”  Shepard met his eyes.  “Maybe they shouldn’t have used these tactics, but what happened to them was wrong, sir.  It was just wrong.”

Hackett glanced down.  The transmitter didn’t render objects in the room, but he appeared to be looking at a desk or terminal.  “What can you tell me about this Kyle?  Is he some kind of ringleader?”

“They wouldn’t elaborate.  I was hoping you might have some intel.”

“I do.”  Hackett pursed his lips, looking troubled.  “It’s all speculation.  I’m also not certain it’s in your jurisdiction.  You got the job done.  We can take it from here.”

“All the same, sir, I’d still like to know.  Collateral damage isn’t always easy to predict.”

“Fair enough.”  Hackett made punched a few invisible keys.  “We’ve got reports that a former officer, Major Kyle, founded some kind of colony on the edges of the Traverse to serve as a biotic safe haven.”

“Kyle’s a biotic?”

“No, strangely.  He was in command on Torfan.”

Shepard winced.  Torfan was a dodged bullet.  After the unprovoked attack on Elysium and over a decade of mounting hostilities, the Alliance Navy bottled up the last of the batarian resistance on one of their moons.  As entrenched as they were, it took a lot of patience and blood to root out the last of them.  It seemed like half of the marines with N-school rankings ended up on Torfan over the course of the two months they kept that meat grinder going.  Most of them left with scars, physical and psychological. 

Shepard was laid up with a broken femur at the time.  She couldn’t claim to regret missing out.  “He was discharged?”

“On medical, yes.  He feels some kind of kinship with biotics.  We think he believes they share an emotional connection, that nobody else can understand what they’ve experienced.  His efforts to help them seem genuine.  It’s hard to say if his commune poses any threat, but it’s worth noting that Kyle’s spread a lot of anti-Alliance rhetoric on the extranet.  He’s encouraging biotics to blame us for their difficulties.”

“Alright.”  Shepard put it aside for the moment.  “They also mentioned the Ascension program.  That replaced BAaT, right?”

“Not exactly.  Ascension is a civilian venture with input from the military, and its records are public.  Participation is voluntary.  It’s true that some of the graduates have fallen off the radar, but we also don’t track human biotics compulsively like we did in the old days.  This is making mountains out of molehills.”

She nodded and allowed the topic to drop.  “There’s someone waiting to meet us at the Citadel, sir?”

“Security officers are waiting to receive the prisoners.  We’ll keep the press off you.  Parliament can handle the curtain calls on this one.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hackett out.”

The comm went dead.  Shepard retreated downstairs to the lounge and the company of her datapad.  What she reported was true; the biotics were secured on the lower deck, under guard, while Burns was sleeping off the experience in a hot bunk, courtesy of a sedative from Chakwas.  The hour was growing late.  On a whim, she linked into the Alliance personnel database and looked up Kyle’s dossier.

The major was a distinguished officer.  He’d earned several commendations for bravery under fire, and had commanded the 104th marine division during the siege, the final unit to leave and the one that took the heaviest casualties driving out the last of the batarian hold-outs.  The whole thing was a bloodbath.  They had orders not to pull up boots until every hostile was captured or dead, and the only way to fulfill those orders was to send good people to their deaths, a battle of attrition.  Torfan was a black mark on the Alliance record.  There had been hearings in Parliament and extensive media investigation afterwards, during which Kyle’s decisions were a subject of contention.  Small wonder he had cracked.

A few of the crew trickled in, catching a little R&R before hitting their racks.  Garrus and Alenko were among them.  She answered their curious stares with a summary of her findings.  “I don’t know whether they were acting on Kyle’s orders, but I sure don’t like the implications.”

“The guy sounds like a nut job,” Garrus said.  “He honestly believes he can lead human biotics to safety and acceptance by walling them off in a colony out in the middle of nowhere?”

Alenko leaned over her shoulder, glancing through the dossier.  “Gotta admit, it sounds almost like a cult.  People with odd abilities living together in secrecy under a leader promising peace and justice.”

Shepard snorted.  “Kyle’s no messiah.  He’s a troubled officer with a misplaced sense of obligation.”

“Maybe he thinks protecting these people will make up for all the marines he lost.”

“Or maybe he’s just crazy.”  Garrus shook his head.  “We’ve seen men like him on the Citadel.  Gang leaders, doctors selling snake oil, self-styled psychologists or prophets claiming to have found the path to enlightenment- all offering a better life to their followers at the cost of their undying loyalty, and not infrequently their wallets.”

“Well, whatever Kyle is, he’s the Alliance’s problem now.  We got Burns back.  It was a good day.”  Shepard laid the datapad aside and slouched back in her seat, relaxed.

Garrus crossed his legs.  “Surprising there weren’t any casualties.  When they started surrounding us, my neck started to itch.”

“It was a risk to continue with negotiations at that point, but I try not to kill people if I can help it.  That’s not what my job is about.”

“I thought it might also have been because you sympathized with them.”

“My job’s not about that, either.  That’s why we’ve got laws and courts and lawyers.  The system gets to decide whether the context merits any consideration.”

“You follow orders, just like that.  It doesn’t matter if they’re the right orders?”

Shepard groaned.  “Garrus, sometimes my superiors want my input and my judgment, and sometimes they give me a clear directive.  The admiral told me what I had to do and left the details up to me.  Orders aren’t arbitrary.  Our rules were developed to try to keep things as fair as possible for everyone.”

“You sound like my father.  ‘Do things right or don’t do them at all.’”

“Your father sounds like a wise man.”

“Funny you should say that, because he’d hate you.  Spectres represent a lot of power with hardly any accountability.”

Alenko replied, dryly, “Have you seen a day go by on this mission when someone isn’t yelling at Shepard for a decision they didn’t like?”

“Sure, but all they can do is yell.”  Garrus sat forward.  “People like Saren don’t play by the rules.  It takes somebody who isn’t restricted by procedures and red tape to bring him down.”

Shepard was running short of patience on this particular argument.  “I don’t need to stoop to Saren’s level to stop him, and neither do you.  I hope you didn’t think resigning from C-Sec was going to be a free pass.”

“We’ll see.”  Garrus got up, stretching.  “I hope you’re right, Shepard, but I also hope you’ll be willing to do what it takes if you’re not.”

He departed with a nod, leaving Shepard and Alenko to their own devices.  She sighed and rolled her eyes.  “Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone, our disgruntled detective included, really did just let me do my damn job without telling me how?”

Alenko swallowed a laugh.  “We might be better off than you’d think.”

“Yeah, well, let’s take the _Normandy_ out to the Terminus and declare ourselves mercs for hire, and see just how much accountability the Council and the Alliance think I should have.  I’m guessing it’s more than in Garrus’ imagination.”

“Or they might say great, let us know when you’ve conquered it so we can bring the Terminus Systems under the banner of council space.”  His grin gave away the joke.

“That’s absurd.  In this scenario, there’s no chance I wouldn’t keep it for myself.”  She grinned back.

“All hail Queen Shepard the First?”

“You got it.”  She picked up her datapad again, popping open her email.  Alenko settled into his couch and did the same.

A couple of servicemen took up seats at the far end of the lounge, trading sidelong looks as they passed the pair.  Neither offered so much as a friendly wave.  It wasn’t the first time it had happened in the last two weeks- standoffishness, sudden silences, and funny looks.  Alenko’s eyes followed them.  “Is it my imagination or is everyone acting a little weird lately?”

Shepard had been rather dreading this conversation.  She decided to take the awkwardness by the horns and confront the issue head-on, lowering her voice.  “You know it’s because of Feros, right?  I disappeared, you disappeared, we showed up together the next morning…  Three guesses how they’re filling in the gaps.”

“I thought it might be something like that.”  He sat back and crossed his arms.  “I mean, I hoped I just spilled soda on myself or something.”

She chuckled.  “I’m sorry.  It’s my fault we got stuck up on that roof, tequila always puts me to sleep.”

“I think being up for three days straight put you to sleep.  But it’s fine.”  He shrugged.  “Below deck rumors like that have existed for as long as there have been ships.  We didn’t do anything wrong.  Some new scuttlebutt will take its place soon enough.”

She was relieved that he was taking it so well.  There wasn’t an order she could give that wouldn’t make the gossip worse.  But there was undeniably a small part of her that sort of wished they had done something wrong, because he was that rare combination of attractive, talented, and a good man.  Easy to talk to, and Shepard never found people easy. 

The idea was too absurd to take seriously.  Article 218 of the Uniform Code was crystal clear on the legality of romantic relationships within a chain of command.  And even if it wasn’t, Alenko could do a lot better than a jarhead with a boatload of fucked-up baggage and she knew it.  He probably knew it too.

Shepard shoved away the ugly thought and cleared her throat.  “Chakwas says Lamai suffered a small contusion to the back of her head, but she should be fine.”

Alenko didn’t look up from his datapad.  “Of course she will.  I didn’t hit her that hard.”

“I just thought you’d like to know.”

“We’re responsible for the decisions we make.”  He blew out a breath.  “How we respond to the things that happen to us is part of that.  Nobody forced her to abduct Burns.”

“She had some choice words for you.  Sounded like you knew each other well.”  Shepard didn’t want to push it, but if there was some resentment there, it was important that she didn’t allow it fester.  Or at least that was a good excuse for wanting to return the favor of listening to her, and maybe help relieve him a little in return.

“There weren’t that many of us in Brain Camp.  We all knew each other inside and out.  Most of us lost touch after the program ended.  Everyone wanted to get back to having a normal life, you know?” 

She did know, but it still struck her odd that a group of people who grew up together and endured a lot of rough predicaments would cut ties like that.  The snippets of fact started lining up in her mind.  _“The Einstein disaster got the reporters off my parents’ doorstep.”  “It turns out it’s not ethical to teach a thirteen-year-old kid to slam another kid into the wall.”  “If I lose control…”_

_“What would Rahna think?”  “I should be grateful you didn’t snap my neck.”_

_“I’m a special case, because I was directly involved with the program’s termination.”_

Shepard bit her lip.  “What happened to you, Kaidan?  The way she was going on… is it possible you… hurt another student?”

He looked up and stared into space for a long moment.  “It was an instructor.  It was an accident, he died, and they shut down the program afterwards.”

“I see.”  She leaned forward a bit.  “You know, it’s not-“

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.”  He took a breath, and forced the smallest of smiles.  “Shouldn’t you be in bed by now, anyway?”

It was Shepard’s turn to look away.  Of course she screwed it up.  And of course he pounced on her in return.  “Not tired.”

He wasn’t fooled.  “You’re having nightmares again, aren’t you.”

Shepard rubbed her forehead, too weary to argue.  “The cipher unlocked a lot of the vision.  The Protheans compressed everything they knew about the reapers into this warning.  I’m starting to access attacks on multiple worlds, invasion fronts spanning enormous swaths of the galaxy.  This was a systemic annihilation of every last trace of their civilization.”

“Not every,” he pointed out.  “The relays survived, as did the Citadel, and world ruins like Feros.  The Mars archives survived.”

“So there was too much evidence for even the reapers to clear,” Shepard said dully.  “Maybe every habitable system had a relay, way back when.  Maybe the Citadel was a rural mail stop.  How should I know?”

He studied her.  “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you need a couple of hours where you’re not planning for galactic invasion, or finding Saren, or dealing with hostage crises or any of the crap that gets dumped to your inbox every day.”  He glanced over at the vid terminal.  “ _Rama_ just came out.  Let’s put it on and not think about anything for a little while.”

The offer was not without appeal, but she hesitated all the same.  There was an awful lot to do, enough to make three hours wasted watching a movie seem indulgent.  “Don’t you have to sleep?”

“The headaches play hell with my schedule.  I’m not even a little tired.”

“Alright,” she said at last, acquiescing.  “You know they butchered the story to add more action sequences, right?”

“So we’ll have some fun tearing it apart.”


	30. Tangled Webs

“I don’t think you’re hearing me.”  Shepard paced in front the comm.  There was no visual; small retail shops didn’t invest in that kind of equipment.  Setting up the call from the ship alone had been a trial, but all the email in the world produced no results.  “I can’t come to your showroom.  I’m not on Mars.  I’m an Alliance naval officer stationed in the Traverse.”

“It really would be better if you could make the time.  The options vary wildly and most of our customers find a demonstration helpful.”

“It’s not a matter of-“  She smacked her forehead.  “Look, I’m just trying to get a medical ventilation system installed in my father’s home.  All I need you to do is read the paperwork I emailed to your office from his doctors, look at the blueprints of his hab that I got from the manufacturer- which was not easy, by the way- and figure something out.  How hard is that?”

“Ma’am, I can’t help you if you’re going to take that kind of tone with me.”

Shepard considered muting the link so she could scream a few choice obscenities.  “I’m sure you understand I’m not trying to be difficult.  He won’t do it himself because he’s stubborn, but he’s sick and he needs this.  I’m doing my best.  Can’t you work with me here?”

“I’m going to escalate this to a member of our technical staff.  Can I have your name again, please?”

“Nathaly Shepard.”

“Natalie?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose.  “I’m only in the news almost every single day.”

“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“It’s Nathaly, with a ‘y’,” she clarified, giving up.  “And Shepard with an ‘a’ and no ‘h’.  Email would be best.”

“Very good, ma’am.  Someone will be in touch shortly.”

Shepard punched the button to terminate the call with such force that the haptic interface didn’t register the movement, forcing her to try again.  There was a growing bruise on her thumb where it struck the guardrail.  She sucked at the injury.  _There are too many places I need to be right now._

Her eyes shut briefly as she took a breath, before taking a deliberate turn and heading down the stairs.  The thought might be true, but there was only one place she could be right now, and she needed to focus on that.

Dr. Chakwas looked up as Shepard stepped into the med bay.  “Good afternoon, ma’am.”

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes.”  Chakwas, as always, had a pleasant tone, with just the faintest hint of dry amusement, as though they were discussing some gigantic joke only she could perceive.  Or maybe in years of service she’d just seen so much that all of life struck her that way.  “I wanted to discuss some of the suit biometric data.  The analysis is routine, but this last pass turned up some odd results.”

Shepard perched on an exam table, her feet swinging over the floor and her hands on her knees.  “This is the output from the marine’s hardsuits, when we’re in combat?”

“Whenever they’re worn, but it’s the combat data I need to watch closely, yes.”  Chakwas walked to her terminal.  “Can I send these plots to your datapad?”

“I don’t know where the damned thing ran off to.  It was being cranky again, anyhow.”  She shook her head.  “Just give me the rundown.”

“Alright.”  She sat down in her chair and swiveled to face the commander.  “This latest aggregation includes data from Feros through the beginning of the week.  As you might expect, stress indicators are rising, along with weariness and decreases in bodily efficiency.  They haven’t fallen off as quickly as I’d expected following the end of the siege.”

“Bodily efficiency?”

“Even minor injuries put strain on the body.  They’re beginning to add up.”  Chakwas calmly moved ahead.  “I have a few suggestions for modifying our rations on the next resupply that may help.  Also, I’d like to see more enforcement of shore leave when it is offered.  Too many of the crew are simply staying aboard ship when we stop off somewhere for a half-day.”

Shepard ran a hand over her hair.  “I can’t force people to enjoy themselves, doc.  And trying to do so is only going to make things worse.  Not to mention a lot of the people staying back are using that time to catch up on sleep.”

“A few of the more recalcitrant may grumble at first, but it will be for the best.  Everyone needs some time to clear their heads.  They don’t get that on the ship.”

Shepard thought about it.  She could see the logic.  “So ordered.  We’ll see if we can’t get some kind of rotation going, to give people a chance to do both.”

“Make certain you’re included in that rotation, Commander.”

She snorted.  “When we set down, it’s usually because I’ve got something to do.  Leave is going to have to be something that happens to other people for a while.”

Chakwas was undeterred.  “We’ve got biometric data on you going back to when you left basic training.  Your recent stress levels have been troubling, among the highest aboard ship.  And I’ve got data from the _Normandy_ VI that you’re averaging fewer than five hours of broken sleep a night.”

Shepard rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath.

The doctor continued, “You are beginning to exhibit behavior characteristic of routine sleep deprivation.  Irritability, keeping to yourself, a short temper-“

“Dr. Chakwas, my temper’s been short since the day I was born.”

“You’re sorting days into checklists, trudging from one task to the next.”

“Can’t be helped.  There’s too much to do.”

“It’s my duty to ensure soundness of health for this crew, Commander.  That includes you.  This mission is demanding, yes, but with the correct treatment we can at least chip away at the symptoms.”

She raised her eyebrows.  “You want to medicate me now?”

“Not for these problems, no, though a good snifter of brandy now and again wouldn’t go awry.”  She smiled slyly.

Shepard couldn’t tell whether she was joking.  “Is there anyone else I need to be concerned with?  Last time we went through this, you mentioned Chief Williams.”

“Ashley’s indicators are one of the few datasets which are actually improving as the mission endures.  Fighting back appears aid her in coping with the events of Eden Prime.”

“Great.”  Shepard hopped off the table.  “Email me those plots, would you?  I’d like a closer look.”

“Certainly, Commander.”

They were deep in interstellar space.  The ship was calm, all systems nominal, and by now the crew who ran her could maintain the systems in their sleep.  Shepard made a few more check-ins, then found her terminal on the top deck and started going through the daily fires.  Maybe Chakwas was correct, and she was turning every day into a checklist without applying enough triage. 

It wasn’t true that there was nothing she ignored.  One of the media agencies, she had no idea which, had leaked her contact information shortly before her confirmation as a spectre.  Now any number of disgruntled, desperate, or celebrity-crazed people sent requests for her attention on an hourly basis.  Between the Alliance’s filters and the superior commercial ones she’d been forced to buy, most of the crap got caught before she saw it, but every so often something leaked through.

_Dear Shepard,_

_I hope you remember me- Conrad Verner?  I’m sure a beautiful, amazing woman like yourself gets plenty of messages from guys._

Shepard felt nauseous already.  Her hand moved towards the delete icon, but the next line caught her eye before she could stop it.

_I printed out your signature on nice photographic paper and hung it on the wall of my living room, right over the fireplace.  My wife loves it!_

How creepy was that.  She was going to need a shower after reading this.  But she forced herself to continue, on the off-chance that Verner’s crazy had translated into actions she needed to address.  Obsessive personalities without any tact or shame could create one hell of a PR problem.

_You’re a hero, fighting for all of us back home, and you don’t take crap from anybody.  You’re demonstrating everything humanity can do.  Decades from now everyone will remember you, and I’ll have your signature.  (I grabbed a picture off the extranet to hang next to it- no offense, but your handwriting is awful!)_

_I also bought this:_

Her eyes went wide as they took in the imbedded image.  Verner was posed in what looked like a shooting range, holding an M-8 Avenger.  Quite aside from the fact that Shepard could not imagine anyone she’d like to see less with a deadly weapon, his grip was entirely wrong, the safety was off, and it was pointed at the unfortunate bastard standing in the next lane.

She squinted, and groaned.  He’d painted the word “Nathaly” along the side of the barrel in red cursive script.

_Anything to support the war effort, haha!  We’re all rooting for you, Commander.  You can count on me to do my part!_

_Sincerely,_

_Conrad_

She shuddered, entirely squicked out, and deleted the email.  Then she undid the delete, and opened up a reply field.  It was a bad idea to feed him, but she was damned if she wasn’t going to cut off this stream of crap right now.

Not bothering with a salutation, she typed:

_Leave the guns to people who know how to use them.  The best thing you could do for the Alliance is return that thing pronto.  Also?  Go hit on your wife.  She might actually appreciate it._

_Don’t write me again._

_-Cdr. Shepard_

Then she deleted the original message, and hoped this particular mess would stay in its box.

Liara walked by.  “Hello, Shepard.”

“Liara.”  She closed the terminal.  “Strange to see you in the CIC.”

“I felt the need to stretch my legs.  I’ve never spent so much time aboard ship.”

“How is your investigation proceeding?”

Liara sighed and rubbed her forehead.  “I have been looking back through my old publications.  The subject of Prothean extinction has long been a topic of debate in archaeological circles, but I’m afraid few have been willing to explore… farfetched hypotheses.”

“What’s the common consensus?”

“There is none.  The frontrunners are a galactic pandemic, an unusual period of galactic core activity precipitating mass extinction, or a collapse of the center of Prothean civilization due to war or other circumstances, causing widespread famine and decline.  Each of these theories has its problems.”

That much was self-evident.  “For one thing, it’s hard to imagine any of those taking out an entire civilization, spanning so many worlds.”

“More importantly, any natural decline, by whatever mechanism, would have left a plethora of evidence- writings, recordings.  Skeletal remains.  Some of them would have been preserved by time.  Instead it’s like a cleaning crew swept through the galaxy after they were gone.”

“But left the Citadel, and the relays.  That doesn’t trouble you?”

“If in fact these reapers have caused the annihilation of countless civilizations since the beginnings of self-awareness, allowing the structures to remain does raise questions about their objectives.  Of course, we don’t know how to destroy a relay.  Perhaps the reapers suffer the same predicament.”

That was a subject on which Shepard had expended some thought.  “Is there any evidence?  Of civilizations predating the Protheans, I mean.”

“A little.  Not much at all.” Liara twisted her hands, her favorite gesture when she was thinking.  “Given my own theory on the Protheans’ disappearance, I’ve become one of the few experts on what scraps we have discovered.  The Protheans made a study of them, much as we have of their culture.”

“So no sites, no digs, no manuscripts…?”

Liara bit her lip.  “There are… it’s not scientific to mention it, but there have been rumors of a world that was home to a major site of a people predating the Protheans, relatively undisturbed.  But I don’t know where it is, or how to begin to find it.  It’s unclear if it was even a real place or merely part of Prothean religious or mythological tradition.”

Shepard raised a brow.  “Does it have a name?”

“The Protheans called it Ilos.”

“Ilos.”  She turned the word over on her tongue.  It had its own strange sound to it, though given the huge range of sounds in multiple species’ multiple languages to which she was routinely exposed, it had to be more mystique than true distinction. 

Liara drifted a step closer.  Her blue eyes were earnest.  “How are you feeling?  Lately, I mean.”

“I’m fine.”  She looked down at the terminal.  It was the damnedest thing, a character flaw, but while she could tell bold-faced lies without hesitation to cameras, to admirals, to enemies, when it came to her friends, she could never seem to quite pull it off unflinchingly. 

Liara wasn’t dissuaded.  “You can trust me, Shepard.”

She reached for a form of truth, keeping her voice to an undertone.  Her chronic insomnia was an open secret- a frigate was far too small a ship to hide her wandering at all hours of the night- but the cause was not.  There was no need to trouble the crew working the CIC.  “The nightmares are… more intelligible, but they’re still…”

“Nightmarish?” she suggested.

Shepard rubbed her eyes.  “It’s like a thought on the tip of my tongue.  I can’t quite grab hold of it.”

“Perhaps I can help.  I won’t examine anything you don’t want me to see, I swear it.”

“I’ll take it under consideration.”

Liara squeezed her hand, and headed back downstairs to her lab.  Shepard watched her go, and then turned back to her work. 

The remainder of the day passed uneventfully.  Shepard hit her rack at exactly the time prescribed in her duty schedule.  Chakwas’ warning was weighing on her mind more than it should, likely the so-called “treatment” to which the doctor referred.  Sleep found her almost instantly.  The dreams found her almost as fast.  She made it to 0230 before giving up.

The third shift was at their posts, the second was long in bed, and the first had not yet woken.  The mess was abandoned when she stopped to melt some chocolate and make a hot drink.  The lounge was in a similar state.  On a hunch, she made her way up to the bridge.

Shepard plopped herself in the couch next to Joker.  Keeping odd hours was nothing new for her, a trait Joker shared, intermittently, and it wasn’t the first time she’d visited in the dead of night.   “Don’t you ever leave the bridge?”

“Nah, except when I gotta shower or use the head.  Takes too long to get back when she needs me.”  He nodded towards the controls, clearly indicating the ship.  “Don’t you ever sleep?”

“Can’t sleep before a mission.  Never could.”  This was easy, as it wasn’t actually a lie, even if it wasn’t telling the truth either.  She curled her fingers around the mug, shrugged.  “Nobody’s perfect.  Why are you up?”

“ _Normandy’s_ a demanding mistress.  Lately she’s been waking me up every couple of hours wanting a drive trimmed or a rattle soothed.” 

“You know, on most ships, this is why pilots work in shifts.”  Shepard was amused.

Joker made a face.  “Nobody knows my baby like I do.”  He gave her a sidelong glance.  “I’ve missed seeing you up here, Commander.  Seems like lately you’ve spent all your midnight sojourns talking to our staff lieutenant.”

She felt her face heat, and was glad he couldn’t see it, between her dusky skin and the dark of the bridge.  A sip of cocoa buried the reaction entirely.  “Good grief, not you too.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her.  Shepard rolled her eyes.  “Alenko’s migraines make his sleep schedule erratic.  A lot of the time, we’re the only ones awake who aren’t on duty.”

“Sure.  Makes sense,” he replied in a tone that stated clearly he wasn’t buying it.  “C’mon, Commander, who am I gonna tell?  The ship?”

“Nothing to tell.  We’re friends.  Nothing wrong with that.”  There was more than a little edge to her voice.  As time dragged on, the gossip began to grate.  Nobody was changing the subject as fast as she liked- that was what she got for taking them back out into deep space with lots of time to kill.  “He’s an easy person to talk to.”

“I bet you say that to all the guys.”

Shepard snorted.  She drew her knees up to her chest and switched her attention to the port, where the plasma trails from their FTL drive washed over the glass against the background of stars.  “What guys?  I don’t exactly cut a path through the ranks, Joker.”

“Maybe not, but it’s not likely you ever have a problem getting a date.”

She took a moment longer to reply than was expected for light-hearted banter.  “I’ve been told I’m intimidating.”

He shrugged.  “That’s just calling a spade a spade, ma’am.”

“Thanks.”  Her expression was sardonic.  “Usually it either scares them off or we end up locked in a dick-measuring contest.  It’s just nice for once…”

“What?”

_Letting myself pretend a little bit that I’m attractive, for who I am instead of what I am, to not do ALL of the pursuing, god forbid maybe feel a little feminine now and again.  Even if it’s only in my head._ She sighed, and said aloud, “It’s just nice to have someone to talk to, that’s all.”

Joker snickered again.  She whapped his shoulder.  He feigned innocence.  “What?!”

“Knock it off.”  Shepard sat back, sullen. 

“Oh, come on, Commander-“

“You want to know what my love life is like?” she snapped.  All the sidelong looks and whispering finally worked its way under her skin.  Shepard was at her wit’s end.  “Here it is.  People see me as either a project or a conquest.  Some of them want to fix me, be the person who settled the great Commander Shepard down, and others just want to be able to brag to their friends that they banged the survivor of Akuze or an N7 officer or whatever.  There’ve been times I didn’t care, but at this point?  I’m incredibly sick of it.” 

He wasn’t having it.  “Sure, but-“

“Finding someone who is a sane, decent, attractive, and unlikely to bitch continuously about the fact that I spend most of my life in danger aboard a spaceship is the goddamn holy grail.  I haven’t exactly managed it yet.”

“I didn’t mean-“

Shepard rode right over him, jabbing a finger at the pilot.  “And here’s another thing.  I’ve not done one damn thing, not one, that crosses the line, not with Alenko, not with anyone else on this ship or any other ship.  I’m allowed to be friendly.  Believe it or not, I’m also allowed to enjoy it when someone tosses a little harmless banter my way.  I fight people for a living.  I don’t get that much flirtation in my life.  Can everyone just lay the fuck off?”

“Geez, ok, sure.”  Joker held up his hands in surrender.  “Holy crap.”

She rubbed her forehead.  “Thank you.”

They sat in silence a few minutes, letting the air cool.  Shepard took another sip of her cocoa.  It was still warm.  He trimmed the drive.  There was only the whisper of air through the vents.

After a time, Joker said, “I know it’s not easy.  Being alone.  Brittle bone disease doesn’t exactly have the ladies lining up around the corner, either.”

She gave him a very dubious look.  “What’s your point?”

“I don’t want to make a thing out of it.”

“Joker.  It’s late.  Or early.  C’mon.” 

“You’ve got strength and wit and health.  So your accomplishments bring the crazies out of the woods, so what?  Date better people.”  His impatience with her griping was obvious.  “You want me to tell you the tale of _my_ love life?  Let’s just say bones that shatter if you stare at them too hard does not make for sexy times.”

“I don’t have time to do anything about it.”

“Then make time.  They say the galaxy’s a big place.  I don’t know if it’s that big.  People like you and me, we don’t fit in anywhere.”  He brushed some invisible dust off the _Normandy’s_ front box, a small, fastidious gesture.  “We gotta make our own places.  That takes some extra work.”

Shepard turned back to the window and sipped at her chocolate.  “You’re really going to talk to me like this?”

The humor was back in her voice.  Joker picked it up.  “Only when you’ve earned it.”

“Shut up and fly the ship.”  
  
“Aye aye, ma’am.”

/\/\/\/\/\

The next day, Shepard resolved to go see Liara.  The whole debate was ridiculous.  Saren still wasn’t in sight, there was the potential that combining Liara’s expertise with the Prothean knowledge imprinted on the backsides of her eyelids would yield a solution, and Shepard always did what was required to complete her mission.  Even if it meant letting the asari paw through her thoughts.

Besides, allowing a friend who meant her no harm whatsoever access to the cipher and the beacon’s message was a rather stupid thing of which to be afraid.

Fear wasn’t a customary emotion for Shepard.  In the middle of a firefight, in the middle of a tongue-lashing, in the face of every camera in the galaxy fixed squarely on her, what might make a less hardened person anxious only made her angry, or occasionally amused, or even bored if the circumstances were right.  But this- being so exposed, not knowing the limits of what Liara saw or could see, not having control over something as central to her identity as her own thoughts- that frightened her.  What privacy was there, in a galaxy where someone else could do that?  Was this how asari did interrogation?  No, they were far too diplomatic for that, but the strictures of social discourse didn’t make it impossible, merely impolite.

_Liara’s not the asari government.  She is your friend, as odd a friendship as it might be.  She wants to bring an end to Saren’s plans as much as anyone._ Shepard blew out a breath and walked to Liara’s lab.

The archaeologist was paging through a journal on her datapad.  She glanced up as the hatch slid shut behind the commander and smiled warmly.  “Good morning, Shepard.”

“Good morning.”  She perched, awkwardly, on a stool across from Liara, and crossed and uncrossed her legs.  “I’ve been thinking about your suggestion.”

“Which suggestion was that?”

“I think you’re right.”  She licked her lips.  “In an ideal world, someone like you, with the right background, would’ve gotten the vision and the cipher, but we don’t live there.  The best I can do with it is place it in your hands.”

Liara set aside her reading.  “I disagree.  That knowledge was given to a person who was in a position to do something with it.  To make people listen.  I’ve been trying to spread my theory on Prothean extinction for decades, and I couldn’t get my own colleagues to hear me.  This sad history falling into the hands of a woman who was about to become a spectre, commanding a ship with the ability to outsmart a dreadnought of alien design?  That was an act of the goddess.”

“Captain Anderson had command of the _Normandy_ during Eden Prime,” Shepard corrected lamely.

“Be that as it may.”  Liara leaned forward, covering Shepard’s hand with her own.  “Have you thought about what I said, on Feros?”

She cleared her throat.  “I had a few things on my mind then, Liara.”

“Granted.  But I hope you did not mistake my meaning.  Isolating yourself is the worst possible thing to do right now.  You’ve been handed an impossible task, and you’re doing a beautiful job- but you need every ounce of help you can get.  This is far too vast for any one person regardless of talent or resolve.”

“Why do you think I’m here?”  Her scowl gave away her discomfort as much as her irritation.

“If not for you, I would be dead, or a… a thrall, like Shiala.  I owe you everything.  Please, let me help you.  Freely, not grudgingly.”

Liara was doing that thing of hers, where her eyes got very wide and earnest, and her entire face, from her fixed blue skull crenellations to the dark freckles on her cheeks, radiated sincerity.  Shepard wondered, not for the first time, if it was naivety or Liara’s brand of diplomacy.  If the latter, it didn’t bode well for if and when they encountered her mother, who was surely even more practiced.

Nonetheless, it had the predictable effect.  Shepard was a reasonably callous woman, but offering belligerence to that face was like running over the neighbor’s cat just because you could.  “I’m doing the best I can.  You think this should be simple or easy, but it’s neither.”

“I understand.”  She drew back, laying her forearms on her knees with her palms turned upwards.  “Well, you know what they say about practice.”

Shepard shook her head, chuckling despite herself, and took her hands.  “In this case, I don’t believe that’s true, but what the hell.  Here’s hoping.”

She closed her eyes and steadied her breath.  The uncomfortably familiar veil fell over her mind, and she briefly felt as though she were falling.  It was easier, slipping away to this place, and faster too.  When she opened them, they were standing in the same spacious wooden room as before, the subconscious expression of the seat of her mind. 

The central chamber seemed larger, though the four long halls still extended towards each of the cardinal directions.  Less remarkable than the increased area was the fact that the parquet floor was covered in bits of cardstock with handwritten notes, connected to each other by an enormous tangle of colored ribbons.  Even stranger, the web appeared indifferent to gravity, filling the air above the floor as well, up to as high as Shepard could easily reach.

Liara, dressed once more in the long gown, plucked one of the cards down to reading height and scanned the contents.  “You’ve been doing some deep thinking about this.”

Shepard found herself wearing loose khakis rolled low on her hips, with a black tank top tucked into the band.  Her hair fell down around her shoulders.  There were flip-flops on her feet.  Well, Liara wanted her to relax.“Is that what this is?  My thought process regarding the Protheans?”

“Not only the Protheans.”  She snagged a card near the center of the web, with at least a dozen colored threads coming off it.  _Saren_ was emblazoned on its front in bold black.

She cocked her head at it.  “My imaginary handwriting is tidier than in real life.”

Selecting the yellow ribbon at random, she followed it to the next card, labeled _Benezia_ , and from there, _Sovereign_.  A blue strand off that card led to _Prothean Artifacts_ , which spawned child cards like _Citadel, Relays, Conduit,_ and _Therum._   “The colors represent subject groups?”

“Apparently.”  Liara lingered on _Benezia_ , and followed a line out.  She held up a card labeled _Hannah_.  “What does your mother have to do with any of this?”

Shepard gave it a glance, her face heating.  “She doesn’t.  I’m not a Swiss watch, you know?”

“A what?” she asked blankly.

“I meant even my compartmentalization isn’t flawless.  There’s some leakage between this and everything else going on in my life.”  Which was the heart of why she didn’t want Liara here.

Liara continued to inspect the web.  “Why is there a red line leading from Feros to a card labeled 218?”

Shepard experienced a brief moment of panic and the few strands of red abruptly vanished from the tangle of cards.  “It’s not important.  This one here’s almost like a vid.  I think it’s the beacon.”

There were so many ribbons coming off that particular card that the edges were more hole than cardstock.  Shepard grasped the blue line and followed it out.  “Feros.  Ilos.  Therum.  Eden Prime.  Mars.”

“Planets.  Why?”

The ribbon was silky between her fingers.  “The cipher’s doing.  It’s not just… whatever world that was, when you were last here.  It keeps showing me colony after colony shrouded in devastation.  I don’t know if I’ve visited any of them in this reality, but…”

“You’ve got major sites of Prothean civilization on the brain.”

“It’s all pattern finding.”  Shepard moved further into the web.  There was an edge of urgency and frustration to her voice.  “All the pieces are in here, somewhere.  I just have to put them together.”

“The conduit is likely on one of the significant Prothean worlds, though it can’t be one well-studied.”  Liara pursed her lips.  “I’ve compiled a list of every site I can find, but I’m not certain it amounts to much.  They were spread over the whole of the galaxy, likely far more worlds than us.  I’m certain if something like that were found it would not go overlooked.”

“Maybe one of them can point the way.”  She abandoned that tact for the moment, and reached for an orange ribbon.  It connected the beacon to Feros, Edolus, Banes, and, strangely, Anderson.  “Where does this string start?”

“Hmm?”  Liara saw the color she meant, and traced it back.  “Orange appears to be Cerberus.”

Shepard gave that due consideration, her arms crossed over the tank top.  It was quite warm in this imaginary space, for whatever reason.  She guessed she cared even less for the cold than she suspected.  Slowly, she said, “We found Cerberus in the same system we found you.  And ExoGeni sent them samples.  Who the hell are they, and why do they keep popping up?”

“You don’t know?  I thought your admiral was buying the information.”

“I haven’t heard anything.”  She kept staring at the cards.  _Why did I tie them to Anderson?_

_Because Anderson keeps more than three decades of secrets safe, including from you, and he’s surprised you with them more than once._ The observation was as obvious as it was uncomfortable.  He knew about her findings.  To not mention it still, assuming he knew anything, told her something about the scope of possibilities.

But it did spark another thought.  “Look for any other commonalities between all the places we’ve already visited.”

They both began searching the cards.  Before too much longer, Liara said, “Krogan.  On Therum and on Feros.  We’ve never explained Saren’s connection to the krogan.”

“They could just be mercenaries.”  Shepard’s tone was doubtful, however.  She remembered the strange awkwardness of the krogan they’d encountered, and their uncanny similarity to one another.  “We should bring it up to Wrex, get his insight.”

“If you can get him to say more than two words on the subject, I’ll be impressed.”  Liara held her hand out to the beacon card.  “May I?”

She took a breath to steady herself.  “Be my guest.”

The impressions were almost too familiar now, the tang of blood, dirt, and molten rock in her nostrils, the thrumming in her ears from the reaper armaments, the primal panic in her gut.  It was raw as a wound and vivid as a surgery, intended to cut and bruise and linger in the mind of anyone who saw it.  Whatever the Protheans meant to accomplish by leaving these beacons, they left an impression. 

And now she had sets of constructed memories from at least a half-dozen different worlds.  Different fronts, different scenery, same story.  It was anywhere from a few moments to a few lifetimes when the vision finally cut them loose, leaving them once more in the wooden chamber with its ample golden sunlight and quiet calm.

She didn’t know if it hit Liara like this, if the asari paid the same psychic cost for each review.  From what Shepard could tell Liara was a passive observer within her mind.  It wasn’t a lack of gratitude- Shepard knew that the asari’s help was all that allowed her a measure of objectivity about the beacon’s message- but there was a vague degree of resentment at her placidity. 

But what Liara said was, “I think that’s enough for one day.”

And then they were sitting once more in her lab, face to face, hand in hand.  Shepard’s eyes were slow to creak open, her breath slow to steady. 

Liara was as slow to withdraw her grasp.  Their eyes met for a moment, a confused and complicated look, before Liara unexpectedly swooned, leaning against the lab bench for support.

Shepard’s brow furrowed with concern.  “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”  She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath.  “It’s exhausting, this melding.  I’m the one doing all the heavy lifting to maintain the connection, and you…”

She laughed then, tiredly.  “You have a much more resistant mind than most.  I’m most accustomed to asari, but even among the alien species whose minds I have touched, you stand apart.”

Shepard didn’t know what to say to that.  There was a faint feeling of guilt.  “I can get you some orange juice from the mess?”

Liara stared at her like she just demonstrated the depths of her oblivion. 

She cleared her throat.  “They give it to humans after we donate blood.  I don’t know.  It sounded right, in my head.”

Liara softened.  “I’ll be fine.  I just need to rest awhile.”

Shepard took the hint and laid her hand on her shoulder for a long moment before vacating the room.

/\/\/\/\/\

Lieutenant Alenko perched at a spare workbench he’d taken over in engineering.  There was a lamp to illuminate tiny, delicate components- purloined from med bay, with Chakwas’ blessing- and an assortment of delicate tools.  Engines weren’t his area of expertise and he was rubbish with most mechanical engineering projects, but hand him a circuit board or a blown power supply and he could do some magic.  A small reminder all those years of school weren’t entirely useless.

The current subject of his interest lay in pieces across the bench.  He’d segregated the chassis and the components having nothing to do with the problem neatly off to one side.  Anyone undertaking hardware repair at a serious level was only sloppy about their work once.  It was too easy to lose or damage small pieces. 

He had a magnifying glass in hand, scrutinizing the damaged circuits, when the elevator chimed and Garrus Vakarian stepped off the carriage, momentarily distracting his attention.

The turian sauntered over.  “What in the world is that?”

Alenko glanced at the pieces.  “It’s a datapad.  Or will be again, soon.”

“I can see that.  I meant what are you doing with it?”

He answered his curious gaze with a sound of exasperation.  “You wouldn’t believe how often Shepard breaks these things.  She’s always whacking them, or dropping them, or downloading questionable software from the extranet to solve some temporary problem.  It’s a small miracle the thing doesn’t give up out of sheer existential desperation every time she picks it up.”

Garrus was puzzled.  “And she assigns the third-ranking officer on her ship, in the middle of war, to fix her personal electronics?”

He sighed and turned back to his work.  “She doesn’t ask me.”

“You just… kidnap the datapad and fix it up for her.”

Alenko flushed a bit.  “She’s always misplacing her datapad anyway.”

Garrus continued to follow his own line of thought.  “And you don’t tell her about it.”

“Nah.  That would spoil the whole thing.”

“I see.”  He picked up part of the case, and turned it over in his hands.  “There are better ways to flirt with girls, you know.”

His blush deepened.  “This way works for me.”

“I find it hard to believe this way has ever worked for you.”

It was true.  Alenko sidestepped the issue.  “We’re not really talking about this, are we?”

“No.”  If turians could grin, Garrus was doing so.  He set down the piece.  “Good luck with those repairs.”


	31. Old Friends

Commander Shepard was stretched out on her couch downloading every scrap of news on the Traverse she could find.  It was a good couch, not so firm she rolled right off it, not so yielding she disappeared in its depths, and most importantly no lumps.  The base of her skull balanced against the left armrest while her ankles dangled over the other.  It was a continuous problem since she finished her final growth spurt sometime between eighteen and nineteen years of age.  The navy built to a scale suitable for the limited space of a ship environment- not oversized officers.

There was some irony in the fact that an N7 agent of the Alliance and a Council spectre with access to some of the most formidable intelligence operations in the galaxy was scanning the thirty-odd major networks in search of a lead, but it beat wringing her hands.  Her last great idea was an almost complete bust.  They found evidence of geth, but not actual geth, and from what she surmised there hadn’t been a single synthetic on that rock for months.  Not that it spared her marines getting rushed by husks.  They were a little beat up; shields weren’t much against the husks’ bare-handed assaults.  Shepard herself caught a decent blow to her ribs.

Liara wanted to bring the dragon’s teeth and other artifacts aboard for study, but Shepard was damned if she was going to allow something so unholy to contaminate her cargo bay.  The geth’s instruments made her skin crawl.  Liara, a scientist to her core, called the impulse irrational, because surely objects used for horrible purposes were still merely objects without intrinsically sinister properties, but until the need for information grew desperate Shepard trusted her gut.

Now they were back in interstellar space, FTL drive fully engaged, trying to pick a new destination.  She tabbed forward to the next extranet site and reached for her mug of cocoa.

“Commander, we’ve received a transmission from the _SSV Reese_.”  Serviceman Santos, Bakari’s third-shift relief in communications, was hesitant over the comm.  Everyone knew how badly Shepard slept, and how touchy she could be about interruptions if sleep did manage to find her.  At this point, she wasn’t above a nap in the middle of the day if she’d spent most of the night awake and had no urgent duties.

Shepard’s brow furrowed.  “The _Reese_?”

“It’s corvette class, ma’am.”

Why did that sound familiar?  “Which officer sent the transmission?”

The comm officer cleared her throat.  “Lieutenant Commander Laine, ma’am.”

Oh, hell.  Shepard stared into space a long moment.  “Put him through.  I’ll take it in the comm room.”

She stood, straightened her uniform, and left her cabin. 

Laine appeared in the transmission holo much as she remembered- auburn haired, green eyed, square jawed, with a stocky frame and boyish good looks.  He broke into a smile as her image loaded on his console.  “Hey, Bo.  You look like hell.”

“Rag.”  She crossed her arms, leaning back on a heel.  “Or should I say Lieutenant Commander?  I hope you’re not expecting congratulations on the promotion.”

His face fell.  “C’mon, Nath, don’t be like this.”

“You know I hate it when people call me that.”

“We’ve known each other since we were making camo gear out of leaves down in Brazil.  I’m not allowed to pull your leg a little?”  It was true.  They’d been assigned to the same N1 cadre in Rio back in ‘74, two of the few recruits to graduate the training.

Not that it made any difference.

“We’re not friends, Laine.”  Her words were clipped, crisp, businesslike.  “And before you tempt me to recount why, I’ll remind you that all of these calls are fully logged and this might not be one of those things you want on record.”

“That was a different time and difficult situation, you know I’m right.  It’s been a year.  Can’t we just agree to let it go?” he needled, testily.

She ignored the question.  Laine’s whining grated on her nerves.  “What do you want?  I’m busier than a cat in a rat factory and I swear to god if you rang my bell just to-”

“No.”  Her reticence clearly irritated him, but he swallowed it.  “I need a favor.”

“You have a hell of a way of asking.”

Laine frowned.  “This is important.  You may think I’m full of shit, but not this time.”

“I don’t think it, I know it.”  Then she relaxed, and rubbed her forehead.  “What did you get yourself into now?”

“While you’ve been chasing Saren’s tail all over the Traverse, the rest of us have been managing the collateral.  A lot of people who don’t like the Alliance very much are using our preoccupation with the war as an opportunity to strike.”

“Imogen hinted at something like that in a card she sent.  There’s no other reason she’d let herself get stuck in the Verge, she hates it there.”  Shepard chewed her lip.  She knew Laine, his experiences and what caught his interest.  “You’re talking about batarians.”

He nodded.  “I’ve been monitoring a splinter cell for six months, wandering back and forth over the border between the Traverse and the Terminus.  They’ve been quiet until a few weeks ago, when everything started to tick up.  Yesterday, they disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”  She was bewildered. 

“Vanished.  It’s like they never existed.  So whatever they were planning is about to go down.  I can’t say more about it on this line.”

She shook her head.  “That’s troubling, but I’ll be honest, I don’t have the resources right now to run down something like that.  No offense, but compared to the geth threat this is small time.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to write it off.”

Shepard snorted exasperation.  “Why are you bugging me, anyway?  Your coordinates are in Kahoku’s turf.  Ask him for help.”

“Kahoku’s missing.  Probably dead.  They’re keeping it hushed up because apparently he was going behind the brass on something big.  The command’s in chaos until they figure out the highest-ranked officer down the chain who isn’t implicated.”  He shrugged.  “Anyway, I don’t need your personal assistance.  I need access to intelligence sources beyond what the Alliance can give me.”

“Kahoku’s AWOL?”  She blinked.  “When did that happen?”

“Two weeks ago?  What does it matter?”  Laine moved back on topic.  “About those intel sources…?”

“They’re not all that much better.”

“But they are a little better.”

“Yes.”  She blew out a breath.  “Alright.  I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.”  He paused, licked his lips.  “I did want to congratulate you, on the spectre thing.  I just didn’t know what to say.  Grats on becoming the biggest media spectacle since Udina threw that fork at a state dinner?”

She laughed despite her best efforts not to, the sound leaking out around the hand that flew to her mouth.  There was the slightest tinge of hysteria to it.  Some days her life was downright absurd.  “Do you think I could get him to do it again?”

“To divert attention?  Nah, it’d take more than some airborne cutlery.”  Laine peered at her.  “Seriously, Nathaly, I haven’t seen you look like this since we were going through all those godawful endurance qualifiers.  Are you ok?”

“It’s a good thing we had all that training then, isn’t it?  This sort of situation might be what they had in mind.”  She was annoyed.  “The damage is cosmetic.  I’m fine.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“I don’t think you have the right to ask me that kind of question,” she answered tartly.

“Jesus.”  He held up his hands, a gesture of surrender.  “You never were one to use a hint when you could get your hands on a club.  I’ll stop.  But I hope it gets better for you, I really do.”

Shepard tried to find some token graciousness, but she couldn’t count Laine as a person deserving of courtesy anymore, not after what she’d seen him do.  She looked up at him.  His expression was vaguely hopeful.

“Commander,” she said in parting through gritted teeth.

Shepard cut the transmission before he could respond and turned towards the CIC without a backwards glance.  The galaxy map stretched out before her.  She began entering commands.

Pressly saw the incoming data and raised his eyebrows.  “We’re returning to the Citadel, ma’am?”

“Something’s happened.  I need to speak with Anderson, face-to-face.”  Admiral Kahoku struck her as a conscientious commanding officer.  Even if he got caught running around high command she doubted his instinct would trend towards abandoning his post.  This stank of something bad- like his inquiries to the Shadow  Broker yielded more of a harvest than he could manage. 

And if Anderson knew anything about Cerberus, he wasn’t going to tell her over a logged call. 

Pressly waited a few moments for further information, and when none was forthcoming, merely nodded and began his preparations.  “Yes, ma’am.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Anderson answered her request by ordering Shepard to meet him at an upscale lounge near the Alliance embassy.  It was a watering hole for diplomats, a place for quiet and informal discussion, and she guessed the captain didn’t want Udina’s fingers in this.

It wasn’t exactly her kind of place.  Shepard paused in the doorway, smoothing the front of her dress blues, and took in the pristine white surfaces, imitation sunlight bulbs, and soft piano music, and made a face.  It was lunchtime.  Humans dressed in suits along with a handful of military personnel chatted over fussy salads and carefully plated slivers of meat.  There were a few asari in the bar, a table of salarians, and not more than two or three turians.  Silverware clattered against porcelain while ice clinked in glasses.

Captain Anderson was already seated.  He set down his datapad as she approached.  She took his invitation to sit, selecting the chair across from him.  A server descended on her immediately to take her drink order and seemed irked when Shepard requested only water.

He sipped at his own drink, which looked to be iced tea, and watched her fold her hands gingerly atop the pristine table.  “I was glad you requested this meeting.  I haven’t had a report from you since Feros.”

“Yes, sir.  Hackett had us on special assignment, and after that, our last planetfall was a waste of time.  There hasn’t been much to recount.”

“Tell me about this raid.  What made it a waste?”

She shook her head.  “We got word that Colonial Affairs lost touch with a survey team.  They were camped out on a planet within one of our sectors of interest.”  


“Sectors of interest?”

“Those maps intel back on Arcturus put together- geographic areas around systems known to have geth activity, or fit one of the mathematical patterns the numbers guys cooked up.  They’ve not been much use so far, but you never know.”

“Right.  Carry on, Commander.”

“We located their base from orbit and detected no signs of life.  I sent a full team.  Their underground barracks were overrun with husks- presumably members of the survey team.”  She winced, remembering, and rubbed her side.  “We found dragon’s teeth.” 

“Any idea why the geth took an interest?”

“No, sir.  We did find something else, though.  Another shrine, not unlike the one on Feros, but there was a tall object at the heart of it.  This thing was strange, sir.  Unsettling.  The proportions were wrong, the curves were wrong, it almost hurt to look at it, but all the same, the eye was… drawn.  We found several husks congregated around the artifact.”

Anderson grew troubled.  “And you don’t believe that merited a report?”

“That wasn’t the problem.”  Shepard traced a wrinkle in the tablecloth with a fingertip.  “I thought the Alliance would try to recover it.  So following extraction I ordered the _Normandy’s_ main cannon to fire three shots into the camp.”

“You _what_?”  Anderson was shocked.  “Geth technology is very advanced.  Studying it could give us a major edge down the road, against them or a new enemy.”

She looked at him directly.  “The only use anyone should make of that thing is to destroy it.  We buried it deep in fire and rubble and I’m still not sure it was enough.”

“That’s not your choice to make.”

“With all due respect, you didn’t see it, sir.  You didn’t feel it throbbing in your head.”

“If it’s a weapon, then it’s even more important that we put it in the hands of qualified scientists.  And you wasted- what in hell were you thinking?”  He looked her over.  “It’s unlike you to be superstitious.”

She sat back in her seat.  “I’ve given my account of the matter, sir.  If others encounter similar devices, they should do the same, and that is my final opinion.”

“So I see.”  Anderson drew a breath and set that topic aside.  “You said you wanted to discuss Rear Admiral Kahoku’s disappearance.  He sent you to Edolus?”

Shepard nodded.  “It’s not his absence I want to talk-“

She was momentarily distracted by a ruckus at the bar.  A turian was banging his glass on the counter and shouting.  It was a strange sight from a member of such a disciplined culture.  The rather harassed bartender tried to mollify him, but the volume only increased.

“Shepard,” Anderson said, drawing her attention back.

“Right.  I’m interested in the subject of his investigation into those dead marines we found.”

They fell silent as the waitress returned with her ice water, and two small plates with what passed for a salad in the world of haute cuisine.  It was a molded cylinder of cut greens and other vegetables about two centimeters high and three across.  The dressing was splashed around it in decorative dots.  Shepard prodded it cautiously with her fork.

Anderson chuckled.  “I know shipboard rations are bad, but you look like you’ve never seen a salad before.”

“No, sir.  Just wondering how anyone manages to live off portions like this.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I ordered for you.  I told them to put it on Udina’s tab.”

“Not at all.”  She resigned herself to the fussy fare and took a bite.  The taste was pleasant enough, sweet orange laced with bitter greens.  “There’s a link between Saren and Kahoku.  We found evidence of a group identified as Cerberus on both Edolus and Feros.  Kahoku was tracking them when he vanished.  I hoped you could tell me more.”

“Cerberus.”  He almost spat the word.  “You’re sure?”

Shepard activated her omni-tool and sent the relevant information to Anderson’s datapad.  He reviewed it for several minutes while Shepard tried to stretch the remaining two bites of salad.  “You’re just full of good news today.”

“So you do know something.”  Her intuition was satisfied.

“More than I’d like.”  He sighed.  “Shepard, this isn’t something you want a piece of.”

“All I was able to uncover was some kind of manifesto from decades back and a few isolated incidents that may or may not be attributed to them.  Everything else, and I mean everything, was code-word classified and I don’t have the correct approvals for those records.”

He leaned forward and folded his hands.  “I see you won’t be dissuaded.  Cerberus is a paramilitary collection of human supremacists with a lot of money, and a lot of dirt on their hands.”

“Sounds like Terra Firma.”  Shepard was dismissive.

“Terra Firma is a political party.  You might not like their philosophy, but they’re not violent.  Cerberus enforces their agenda with any tools available.  Research, politics, terrorism, hit men, donations, sabotage- if it’s a lever for manipulation, they’ve pulled it.  They’re extremely well organized, adaptable, and sharp.”

“And they’re tangled up with my investigation, so that kind of makes them my problem, sir.  If you’re expecting me to get scared and back off because they offed Kahoku-“

“Who told you that?” he asked sharply.

“Laine said there was speculation that Kahoku was likely dead.”

“I didn’t realize you two were on speaking terms again.”

“He’s a fellow officer and I don’t need to tell you that the N7 ranks are pretty thin.”  Her tone was stiff, professional.  “I try not to let my personal feelings interfere with the required standard of decorum."

"One of these days you're going to tell me what the hell happened between you on that mission."

"I don't think so, sir," she replied politely.  After all, she lied about it too, afterwards, and not just to Anderson.

“Well, I’d keep any speculation about Kahoku to yourself until we have proof.”  He let out a breath and shook his head.  “Cerberus does have some connection to Saren that I don’t fully understand, and maybe that’s how they got brought into this.  It’s a stretch to call their role important based on the intel I’ve seen here.”

“I find it hard to believe I’ve never heard of them, if they’re as persistent and connected as you say.”

“We keep it close.  Giving them a free microphone and recognition isn’t a smart move.”  He gave her a level look.  “And there’s this.  A lot of people think the Alliance should be stronger and more independent than it is.  The service attracts individuals with that mentality, and Cerberus loves to poach from our ranks at every opportunity.  Hell, early on they got an entire black ops lab to go rogue.”

That raised a few flags.  She wondered if they kept quiet in order to insulate Cerberus as Anderson claimed, or purely out of establishment embarrassment.  “I’d like to know more about their link to Saren.”

The conversation paused again as the server brought their entrée.  It was two ounces of tofu on a saucer-sized bed of mashed carrot, topped with what looked like a deep-fried leaf.  Shepard suppressed a sigh.

Anderson’s was similar, though consisting of fish instead of bean curd.  He dug in his fork.  “I’m telling you, Shepard- let this one go.  For your own good.  There’s a long, nasty history to this organization.”

“Sir-“

“That’s an order, Commander.”

They ate in silence for several minutes.  Shepard had known Anderson long enough to recognize he said all he intended to say.  The war was the largest threat facing the Alliance since first contact.  He wouldn’t withhold information if he deemed it at all relevant.  His lack of trust still grated more than she cared to admit. 

Eventually, Anderson folded his napkin and pushed away from the table.  Shepard stood automatically.  His tone was once again mild, polite.  “I need to get back to it.  Always a pleasure, Commander.”

“Yes, sir.”  She slid back into her seat as he departed, resting her chin in her hand and surveying the remains of her so-called meal with dismay.  Who would possibly call this lunch?  Where was the food?  There couldn’t be more than three hundred calories between the two dishes. 

Just as she was contemplating if there was anywhere on the Presidium where she could grab a hot dog, the server returned, bearing some kind of cocktail on a tray.  She set it down in front of her.

Shepard blinked in confusion.  “I didn’t order a drink.”

“It seems you have an admirer.”  The woman glanced across the bar, towards an asari lounging in a chair like she owned the place, wearing a long red close-fit dress. 

The drink was unrecognizable, though it smelled faintly of fruit and strongly of alcohol.  She picked it up and carried it over to her anonymous benefactor.  “I don’t think we know each other.”

The asari tilted her head up to get a better look at her, and offered a laughing smile that Shepard instantly recognized as an act.  “Everyone knows Commander Shepard.”

She didn’t mince words.  “I’m on duty so I can’t drink, and even if I weren’t, I’m not interested.”  She set the cocktail down in front of her.  “Quite frankly, I’m starving, so if you don’t mind-”

“My proposition is more professional than romantic.  It won’t take but a second.”  She gestured towards the table.  “Please, sit.”

Her arms crossed and she stayed on her feet.  “I don’t know you’ve been talking to, but I take orders, not contracts.  My services aren’t for hire.”

“My name is Nassana Dantius,” she continued, as if Shepard hadn’t spoken.  “I’m with the asari diplomatic corps.  And I’ve been on this Citadel too long not to know that spectres set their own agenda.”

“Not this one.”

“Are you always so terse?”

“As I said, I’m-“

“Hungry.  So I gathered.”  She stopped a passing waiter.  “Michael, could we get an hors d'oeuvre for the commander?”

Shepard fell into a chair with resignation.  She couldn’t afford to snub an asari diplomat, a fact of which Dantius was evidently aware.  Her polite smile was a touch brittle.  “What is it you wanted to discuss?”

“I have a… problem, of a personal nature.”  Some of her brisk veneer fell away.  She swirled the rejected drink nervously.  “It’s my sister, Dahlia.  She’s been taken.”

“You mean kidnapped, to exert influence on the asari through you.”

“No.”  Dantius shook her head.  “I’m not ranked highly enough for that.  Our family is very wealthy, even by galactic standards, and they used her to extort credits from us.”

“And you don’t want to pay, or…?”

“We’ve already paid,” she protested.  “They’ve refused to release her as promised.”

Shepard bit her lip and tried to think of a way to put it tactfully.  “Ms. Dantius, it’s unlikely she’s still alive.”

“I live in the world, Commander.  I know the odds.  But I’ve also expended quite a bit of money tracing this mercenary ship and I know the effort won’t be wasted.  All I need is for you to stage a rescue.”

“Ok.  I gotta ask- why me?  There are a dozen asari spectres aboard the Citadel at any given time.”

“For starters, because the coordinates of the ship are deep in the Traverse.  Not a problem for a spectre, but still unofficially Alliance territory.”  She paused.  “And because if it came out that I’d paid the ransom, I’d lose my position.”

“The Citadel does not negotiate with terrorists?” she quoted lightly.

“This isn’t funny.  My sister is in mortal danger.”  Dantius sat up and leaned towards Shepard.  “I can make it worth your while.”

“I don’t take bribes.”

“Professionals deserve to be paid for their work.  But that’s not the real value.  I don’t have the influence to give a terrorist cell what it wants- release prisoners, reveal access codes.  But promoting the integrity and reliability of a human spectre with a serious interspecies PR problem?  That, I can do.”

“And if I don’t help you, you’ll have some other choice words to spread around?” Shepard asked shrewdly.

Her smile was razor-edged.  “You have a keen grasp of the situation.”

They were interrupted as the turian at the bar started shouting again.  The whole lounge was trying to ignore it.  He seemed upset that his empty glass wasn’t instantaneously refilled.  His caterwauling set Shepard’s teeth on edge.  “Who the f-  I mean, who is that?”

“General Oraka, retired.”  Dantius sighed.  “When he’s not too drunk to remember his own name, he’s ranting about his mistress to anyone who will listen.  It’s sad.”

Shepard dismissed it as irrelevant.  “Your threat of blackmail is offensive and confronting me here like this is anything but professional, Ms. Dantius.”

“Are you prepared to let an innocent woman die over it?” the asari asked sweetly.

“No.”  Shepard gritted her teeth.  “No promises, but I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

“Don’t thank me.  Not for this.”  Shepard rose and left the bar.

/\/\/\/\/\

When his name came up in the first shore rotation after Shepard implemented Dr. Chakwas’ advice, Lieutenant Alenko decided to make good on his promise to meet his friend for coffee.  At mid-afternoon the Presidium walk was far less crowded than at breakfast.  They were able to sit and watch the water while sipping leisurely from their paper cups and catching up. 

“I’ve lived here for eight years now,” Mat said, “And I still haven’t gotten used to the idea of a space station having a lake.  It’s the height of impracticality.  Getting the water here, out in the middle of nowhere, purely for aesthetic value- that difficulty alone should have terminated the project.”

“Not that many people would take the triumph of art over engineering as a personal insult.”  Alenko took a drink to hide his smile.  Mat engineered habitat systems for a living and had extremely strong opinions on form versus function.

He refused to be distracted.  “Laugh if you want, Kaidan.  The Protheans were out of their minds building this place.”

“You’re talking about a civilization that left booby-trapped comm systems lying around for us to find and the Citadel is what makes you think they’re crazy.”

“And the holo sky.  I mean, why?  There’s not even an anchor star out here.”

“Maybe that’s why.  Even the Protheans had to come from a planet originally.  It makes it feel more like home.”

“Except every time you drop something you’re reminded that you’re living on a giant rotating inner tube.” 

“You chose to live here,” Alenko pointed out.  Which wasn’t entirely true.  His husband moved his firm here, to expand his clientele, and Mat followed.  But it was true enough.

“Yeah, yeah.”  Mat slouched back, rather put out.  “Life has a way of pulling stunts like that.  Sort of speaking of which- how’d you get lucky enough to end up on the _Normandy_?  That’s nuts.”

“I don’t know.  I just go where I’m told.”  He fidgeted with the plastic wrapper of a blueberry muffin.  Buying it seemed like a better idea before he realized it was roughly the size of a small moon, and that he was already full.  “Anderson picked the crew, before Shepard inherited the ship.  Apparently he wanted me for this.  I’m not complaining.”

“I’m no soldier, but I can’t imagine he was pulling names out of a hat.”  Mat paused.  “Sometimes I get the feeling there’s a lot you never told me about your work.”

“Sometimes I get that feeling, too.”  Alenko took another sip of coffee.

Mat snorted.  “So I have to ask.  What’s Shepard like?  The news makes her look pretty harsh and not a little crazy.”

“She’s…” He thought about it.  “She is a little crazy, but not in a bad way.  I’ve never met anyone like her.  She’s smart, experienced, talented…  When I say talented I mean if you want a fair fight you better bring a lot of guys, and she’s maybe the best shot I’ve seen in real life.  Once, she climbed down a hundred meter crumbling wall like it was nothing.  I was freaking out the whole way.”

“She’s a good marine.”  Mat leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.  “But what she _really_ like?  There’s got to be more to it.”

“I realize there’s this whole mystique surrounding N7 out in the public, but the math doesn’t lie.  Of those selected for N1 training less than a hundredth of a percent ever go up for N7.  You don’t get that particular commendation for being good.  You get it for being the best the service has to offer, and being fully committed beyond what most people would consider reasonable.  It’s not any deeper than that.”

Mat set down his mostly empty cup.  “And getting there drives them a little round the bend?  The things she says on the news, about aliens and the geth…  It’s like she’s reading from a different script than the rest of us.  I don’t understand it.”

“There’s a particular psychological profile most spec ops soldiers fit,” he acknowledged, carefully, not wanting to say something Shepard wouldn’t share herself.  “But she’s still human.  She likes old books and fast cars.  She’s got a sick father she worries about a lot.  And she all but main-lines hot chocolate.”  Alenko shook his head.  “She deals with so much crap it would drown an ordinary person, but there she is every day, doing her job anyway.  You’d never know it.  If her comments seem a little off-color, maybe it’s because she’s working from a broader perspective.”

Mat gave him a sidelong look.  Alenko’s expression turned sardonic.  “What?”

“Nothing.”  He jerked his chin towards the muffin.  “I never thought I’d see you leave perfectly good food uneaten.”

Alenko spared it a glance but was not diverted.  “You all but rolled your eyes at me.  What did you want to say?”

He made an annoyed sound.  “Just that I’ve heard you say more about Shepard in the last five minutes than I heard about your last girlfriend the whole four months you were dating.”

“You asked,” he protested.

“You answered at some length,” Mat observed, his tone dry.

“She’s interesting.  So what?  A lot of other people think so, too.”

His friend decided to switch topics.  “You buy into her kumbaya routine?  We all just need to work together?  Because last I checked, it wasn’t turian colonies being targeted.”

Alenko sighed.  “There’s a lot more to this than the geth.  I can’t say anymore.  But if you knew what I know, her stance would make more sense.”

“Why don’t we know?”  


“Because we don’t know all of it yet, either,” he said patiently.  This was well-trodden ground between them.  “Just because you know how to make a bomb doesn’t mean you teach anyone who asks.”

“And this information is that dangerous?”  Mat’s expression remained skeptical.

If they went public with the reaper threat now, it’d provoke either widespread panic or widespread laughter.  They needed tangible proof- and a plan.He was glad some days it wasn’t his duty to make those decisions.  “Sometimes you just have to trust us.  That’s the bargain citizens make with their government.”

“Sure.  The Alliance has a great track record with that.  Torfan, BAaT-”

“You know the worst part of serving in the navy?”  Alenko sat back and folded his arms.  “The news rarely airs stories when we do our job right, so people only remember the times we screw up.”

They exchanged cross looks for a few long moments, before Mat shook his head and chuckled.  “That went fast in an ugly direction.”

“No kidding.”  Alenko had to laugh as well.  “You’d think after ten years we could stop having the same argument.”

“Or at least invent some fresh talking points.”  Mat’s gaze shifted to a spot over Alenko’s shoulder.  “Speak of the devil.”

Alenko’s brow furrowed as he glanced behind him.  Shepard was coming up the Presidium walk at a fast clip, her hands tucked under her arms.  She was frowning.

He waved.  Her expression turned to surprise as she spotted them.  He got to his feet by rote as she approached.  “Commander.”

“Lieutenant, there is no civilization in this galaxy,” she announced without preamble, plopping into a seat.  Shepard looked harangued.

“Ma’am?” he asked, reclaiming his chair.

She rested her elbows on the table, propping her chin in her hands and groaning.  “Every restaurant in walking distance of the embassy is closed until dinner.”

Her eyes lit on the blueberry muffin, with not more than two bites out of it.  “Are you going to finish that?”

He pushed it towards her.  “All yours.  I already ate.”

She fell on it like she’d never seen sustenance before.  He shook his head, amused.  “Weren’t you having lunch with Anderson?”

“You never saw a place make such a sick joke of a meal.”  She stuffed a large chunk of muffin into her mouth.  “Rabbits couldn’t live off it.”

Mat was watching with disconcerted fascination.  Shepard caught his stare, chewed and swallowed.  “Who’s your friend?”

“Sorry, ma’am.  This is Mat Noguchi.”

She held out her hand.  “Nathaly Shepard.”

He shook it.  She turned back to her scavenged food.  “The whole conversation was a waste on top of the almost complete lack of food.  It’s not that Anderson doesn’t know anything relevant, it’s that he won’t tell me.  And that’s not like him.”

“The captain might be a mentor to you, but this can’t be the first time he’s withheld information.”

“No.”  She wiped crumbs off her mouth.  “But he always has a reason.  This time it was like running into a brick wall.  All he’d say is it was too dangerous.  For me.  Not to be immodest, but seriously?”

Mat cleared his throat.  “I don’t suppose I can ask what the heck you’re talking about?”

She raised an eyebrow.  “You a reporter?”

He was affronted.  “I’m an engineer.”

“I came to the Citadel to chase a lead, and my commanding officer is waving me off while lying to me about it,” she stated, matter-of-factly.  “It’s frustrating.”

Mat was taken aback by her frank disclosure.  “I can still talk to reporters, you know.”

“What exactly would you say?” Shepard snorted.  “You ran into Commander Shepard in a coffee shop where she revealed the highly sensitive information that she was having trouble following a lead?  Why do I ever come back to this station except to do research or have my brow beat?”

“That’s… well-reasoned.”

“I’ve been at this awhile.”  She slouched back from the remains of the muffin, not more than a handful of crumbs, with a look like she was considering licking the wrapper clean.  “Trust me, I’m not going to publicly discuss something you shouldn’t know, and even if I did, I’ve known him long enough now to realize that he doesn’t make friends with dishonorable people.”

Shepard pointed at Alenko, who went slightly pink.  “Ma’am, I know Captain Anderson was the quick route, but surely he wasn’t the only?”

“I can put in a request with the archivist on Arcturus, but the war’ll be over before it clears the system.  That place is slower than a minivan with a busted stabilizer.”

“Hackett could fast track it.  You did him a favor.”

“I followed orders.”

“You followed them well.”  He shrugged.  “Could be worth something, ma’am.”

“Maybe.”  She chewed her lip.  “I’m going to find another muffin.  Or bust into a vending machine, or something.”

“There’s a diner just off the ring in Zakera Ward that runs all hours,” Mat offered.

“Really?”  She broke into a smile of giddy relief.  “I am so glad I met you.”

“He’s married,” Alenko said without thinking.

She regarded him, bemused.  “Thank you for the intel, L.T.  As you were.”

Alenko stood again, face burning, as Shepard departed.  Mat raised his eyebrows.  Alenko sighed with exasperation.  “She’s my superior officer.  I’m required to stand when she does.”

His friend snickered.  “Sure.  I saw you watch her go.  You have a problem, man.”

He buried his face in his hands with a groan.  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

/\/\/\/\/\

“Let me get this straight,” Joker said, still full of disbelief.  “Some asari diplomat corners you in a bar, threatens you, and we’re actually going to do what she asked?”

They were back aboard the _Normandy_ , headed back to Artemis Tau on Nassana Dantius’ intelligence regarding her sister.  Dahlia was abducted from asari space by a small group of mercs, unaffiliated with any of the larger armies, less than three weeks prior.  The ransom was paid from a private account almost immediately.  The credits weren’t hard to trace- Shepard’s spectre rank finally paid off.  The bank sent over the records within an hour of receiving the request.  Unfortunately, the account holder proved to be a pseudonym and the merc leadership remained unknown.

This cluster was as far away from home as an asari could get without crossing into either the Terminus or batarian space.  Clearly, the mercs wanted to remove any chance of rescue or asari military intervention from the equation.  Why they’d keep Dahlia after receiving the payment was a mystery.  Kidnapping was a lucrative gig, but failing to adhere to the terms wouldn’t encourage future victims to pay up.

Shepard turned back to her pilot.

“I’m not worried about her threat.  But if she wants to play, I’ve got some game.”  She smiled humorlessly.  “Dantius let slip she’d lose her job if her attempt to settle with the kidnappers came to light.  How good is it going to look when a spectre very publicly saves her dear sister from space pirates and she throws a hissy fit?”

Joker was disconcerted.  “So you get the gratitude of the asari for saving the girl, and still manage to screw Nassana?”

“Yep.  I’ll earn a little goodwill with the asari without her help, she’ll lose her job, and there’s nothing she can do about it without appearing callous.”  Shepard folded her arms, smug.  “And we’ll also rescue Dahlia in the bargain.  It’s not all about teaching lessons.”

“How are you going to explain stumbling across this mess?  It’s not like this is a high-traffic system.”

“Retracing our steps, searching for missed evidence, of course.  We have been here before.”

He shook his head.  “Damn, Commander.  Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“See if you can raise this merc ship.  I’d like to speak with her skipper and see if we can’t come to a peaceful resolution.  Who knows, he may decide putting a spectre in the mix makes this job more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

Shepard retreated to the CIC.  The _MSV Fedele_ was a standard turian frigate, a generation behind the benchmark, probably bought up at a scrap yard.  It would have been stripped of its artillery prior to sale, but that was easy to replace if you knew where to shop.  Extranet schematics of similar ships revealed no surprises.  The turians were a disciplined, orderly people.  Their vessels had none of the romance of human ships, with their odd corners and hidden bolt holes.  During her youth, Shepard excelled at locating them on ships and stations alike.  She’d lay money the _Einstein_ still had a few of her morose pre-teen journals hidden under the floorboards.

Assuming no modifications, it shouldn’t be difficult for the _Normandy_ to sneak up on the _Fedele_ and dock with the rear hatch.  From there, Shepard’s strike team could storm through the CIC and secure the bridge and all navigation capability, or alternatively flow down to engineering and assume control of propulsion and life support.  Both options presented risks.  In the end, she decided to order breather helmets and take the bridge.

The comm crackled.  “We’ve got the _Fedele_ in sight, ma’am.  Her captain’s waiting on the line.  Sounds like an asari.  She didn’t care for our hail.”

Shepard glanced at the ceiling.  “What’s our ETA?”

“Two hours out.”

“Roger.  I’m headed to the comm room.”

Shepard activated the link and watched the asari captain materialize on her holo.  She was solidly built, layers of muscle evident beneath the expensive but well-worn hardsuit.  Her amber eyes blazed.  “Alliance law doesn’t mean much out here.  What do you want with the _Fedele_?”

The commander was unfazed.  “This is Spectre Nathaly Shepard, and the _Normandy_ is my ship.  You should know better than to hide your dirty laundry in my backyard.”

“I don’t give a fuck who you are.  Keep your nose out of my business.”

“I’ll cut to the chase.”  Shepard shifted her weight, her lips pressed together in a hard line.  “I’m looking for Dahlia Dantius.”

“You’ve got her,” the captain spat, crossing her arms.  “I’ll ask one more time- what is it you want?”

Shepard’s mouth opened, and closed.  Confusion set in.  “What?”

“Oh, now you’re going to play stupid with me?”

“You’re Dahlia?”  Shepard was still grasping after the facts like she had dirt kicked in her eyes.

“That’s Captain Dantius to you.”  She jabbed a finger at Shepard.  The gesture lost none of its hostility in transmission.  “I know who you have on board.  You can tell Detective Vakarian that the doctor paid for his passage, all nice and legal.  Hell, I’ll even show you the credit statement.”

Shepard tried to reassert control of the situation, riding on sheer instinct.  “You don’t get to make that decision.  We need to inspect your ship.  Fail to comply, and we will forcibly board and I can’t vouch for the safety of you and your crew.”

“Try it, and we’ll see who winds up dead.  This isn’t the Citadel where citizens have to play nice with invasive C-Sec assholes.”  She reached forward to punch the termination.  “ _Fedele_ out.”

The comm went dead.  Shepard stared at it a long moment, trying to make sense of what just happened.  She rubbed her forehead.  “Joker!”

“Ma’am?”

“If Garrus isn’t standing in my quarters within the next thirty seconds, tell him he can damn well hitchhike home.”

Even Joker knew better than to argue with her when she adopted that tone.  She returned to her cabin.  Shortly thereafter, the hatch slid open, admitting the turian detective.  “Commander?  I was told-“

She turned towards him, absolutely livid.  “What do you know about Dahlia?”

“What?”  He was taken aback.  “Up until a few days ago, I never heard of her.”

Shepard laughed, sarcastic.  “She’s sure heard of you.”

“The captain of the _Fedele_ let you speak with her?”

“She _is_ the captain of the _Fedele._ ”  Shepard kicked at the couch.  “Nassana didn’t want me to save her sister.  She wanted me to kill her sister.  Having a pirate in the family can’t do much for her career advancement.  And Dahlia dropped your name.  Why?”

“I have no idea.”  Garrus got a look at her face, and added, “Shepard, I swear.  I have no better idea what this is about than you.  What else did she say?”

“She mentioned something about a doctor.  Sound familiar?”

Garrus sucked in a breath.  “It can’t be…”

“It can’t be what?”

His mandibles flared.  “Shortly before we met, I worked a case involving the black market organ trade.  A salarian was at the heart of it, Dr. Saleon.  Real sick bastard.  I spent seven months tracking down the location of his laboratory, but it wasn’t what we expected.”

Shepard recalled her research when she was looking for Garrus, right after Eden Prime.  “I think I saw a news story about that investigation.  Trade in body parts has been problematic since the dawn of modern medicine.”

“Usually, it’s just tissue in vats, without any of the safety protocols or regulations required for artificial organs.  Sometimes it’s a sick freak with a knife harvesting from homeless or other vulnerable populations.”  Garrus shook his head.  “It’s not always even organs.  I’ve seen more than a few krogan suffering sepsis because the testicle transplants they thought they were buying turned out to be a wad of animal tissue.”

She started to press on with another question, before her brain caught up to what he’d actually said.  “Wait- testicle transplants?  Is that really a thing?”

“Superstition and homeopathy.  Some krogan think the transplants provide a cure or treatment for the genophage.  They can go for ten thousand credits apiece.  That’s forty large for a full set.”

“Ok.”  That raised a thousand other questions, none of them directly relevant.  She ran a hand over her hair.  “What made Saleon’s operation different?”

“It’s a long story, Shepard.  Are you sure you want to talk about this now?”

“According to Dahlia, your Dr. Saleon is on board the _Fedele_ , and I’ve got about ninety minutes before I need to decide whether we take the ship.  So talk.”

“He’s on the ship?”  Garrus’ eyes bugged out.  “Shepard, we have to board.  We can’t let him get him get away, not again.”

Shepard settled on the couch and crossed her legs.  “I think you better start at the beginning.”

“I got my start in C-Sec investigating the black market on the Citadel.  Most of it’s harmless.  What do I care if someone wants to sell bootleg Blasto vids?”  The humor faded.  “The organ trade, not so much.  Saleon tipped his hand by being greedy.  He flooded the market with his wares and set off my suspicions.  DNA analysis of a sample led us to a turian who was both very much alive and convinced he never lost his liver.”

“The liver can be transplanted in pieces.  He didn’t have to lose all of it.”

Garrus looked around.  It took her a moment to realize he was seeking a seat.  “Sorry.”

She scraped a small mountain of clothes off her couch and unearthed a half-eaten dinner tray several days old.  “Uhh… here.”

Shepard picked it up and set it out of sight behind them.  He eyed the cleared cushion with due caution.  “This can’t be within regulations.”

“So I’ve gotten a little… behind.”  She crossed her arms, defensive.  “I’m sure the navy would agree finding Saren is more important.”

Garrus wisely perched on the coffee table instead and folded his hands across his knees, returning to the subject at hand.  “The liver can be portioned out, but that wasn’t the case here.  Our investigation revealed this turian worked briefly for Saleon.  But there was nothing at his lab- none of the equipment you’d need to grow cloned organs.  His official work wasn’t even in the same subject area.”

“Sounds like a dead end.”  Shepard was military, not police.  Investigation was novel territory.  She’d done her fair share of recon, but usually, her superiors decided what to do with it unless the situation went critical, like during Elysium.  More frequently she went into a mission to recover or destroy a previously identified target, whether a person, object, or data, and questions of morality rarely entered into it.

Being a spectre came with a significantly increased expectation of initiative.  It was possible Garrus had something to teach her in this area, when he wasn’t treating their mission like a spaghetti western, anyway.

He continued, “I brought in a few more of his staffers, trying to crack the case.  One of them started bleeding out in the middle of the interrogation room.  It was brutal.  Our emergency medical team barely managed to stabilize him.  Which is where the story gets really strange.”

Her brow furrowed.  “Are you sure you didn’t rip this from one of those late night crime serials?”

Garrus laughed.  “No- it’s just the kind of career that leaves you with a lot of odd stories.”

“What’d the medical team find?”

“There were incisions all over his body.  Someone had cut into him again, and again, and again.  These ‘employees’ were walking, breathing test tubes.”

“He was growing the organs _inside_ his workers?”  Shepard had thought she was beyond disgust.  “That’s sick.”

“It gets worse,” he said grimly.  “Most of them were poor, with little education or options.  He’d pay them a small percentage of the sale, but only if the organ grew to a useable condition.  Those that didn’t develop properly were left in-situ.  Most of them were total mess, medically speaking.  Systemic dysfunction, chemical imbalances, you name it.”

Shepard took that in for a long moment.  “Alright.  So how does Saleon end up on a merc ship on the edge of the Traverse?  I can’t imagine you letting someone like that take a walk.”

“You want to know why I quit C-Sec?  Why I get worked up over useless rules and regulations?”  Garrus’ eyes flashed.  “He blew his lab, grabbed as many of his test subjects as he could, and boarded a ship.  By the time we realized what was happening, they were off the Citadel and headed for the relay.  He threatened to kill his staff if we made any attempt to stop him.”

“I doubt you let that stop you.”

“I gave the order to shoot them down, but the Executor countermanded me.  He was worried about the hostages and the potential for civilian casualties if pieces of the ship collided with the Citadel.  I told him the hostages were dead anyway, but it didn’t matter.”

“He made the right call.  You were right about the hostages, but he was right about the civilians.  It’s better to pursue and disable when you’re that close to a space station carrying eleven million people.”

Garrus’ expression twisted into something ugly.  “They tried.  They were too slow.  He made it to the relay and then he was gone.  I kept looking, but he managed to stay off the radar.  Until today.  Somewhat ironically, I got handed Saren’s case as a penalty for criticizing the Executor’s decision- his reputation was impeccable.  No one expected it to turn up any evidence of wrongdoing.  It was an insult.”

A few minutes passed as they regarded each other in the aftermath of his horrific recounting.  Shepard sat forward and shook her head at the ground.  “It’s a hell of a story.  I almost wish I didn’t believe you.”

Garrus was almost in a panic.  “Shepard, I can’t let him get away again.  Not after what he’s done, the suffering he’s caused, the abuses he’s orchestrated.  And I don’t think you can either.”

Shepard was piecing events together in her head.  She spoke slowly.  “Saleon escapes justice.  He probably switches ships a few times, looking for an ideal world to restart his lab.  The Traverse fits.  The Alliance can’t hold order here as well as we’d like to think but it’s not as cutthroat as the Terminus.  Perfect for an illicit scientist wanting to enjoy his comforts and peddle his wares.”

Garrus grunted agreement.  “He hires Dahlia’s mercs because he knows C-Sec’s still looking for him, and he wants the extra security.  He has to be headed to his final destination with all his people and equipment.”

“It feels right.”  She leaned back, staring at the ceiling and twiddling her thumbs in her lap.  “Does Saleon have any combat skills beyond precision scalpel work?”

He lit up.  “You’ll do it?”

“We’re here.  Nassana tried to fool me and that doesn’t sit so well.  There are mercenaries willing to protect and transport known criminals flying next to one of our colonies and that doesn’t sit so well, either.  And Saleon has it coming.”

“No, he doesn’t have any combat training that I’m aware of, but he knew how to play C-Sec, straight up the book.  He’ll probably try threatening his test subjects again.”

“No, because this time there’s a spectre in the mix, and as you said, he knows Citadel procedure.”  Shepard’s voice had a strange edge.

Garrus frowned.  “I don’t follow.”

“Nassana tipped me off to something, and I’ve had some time in cruise to examine it.”  Shepard rubbed her forehead.  “She said ‘professionals deserve to be paid for their work’.  And it turns out, in as far as public records are available, I’m the poorest spectre out there by an order of magnitude.  In some cases, several orders of magnitude.”

“You sound like Executor Pallin.”  He was dismissive.  “Spectres fill a vital role in the galaxy.”

“I don’t deny it, but the funny thing is, that Council stipend doesn’t stretch very far.”  She rapped her knuckles on the table.  “It’s clear most spectres have an interesting and not entirely on the books relationship with the galaxy outside the Citadel.  Why or how deep it goes is neither here nor there, but my guess is this guy is going to be too busy trying to buy me off to try that sort of tactic.”

“And Dahlia?”

“Is not going down without a fight.”  Shepard smiled.  “This is going to be fun.”


	32. The Space Pirates

The VI chimed softly as _Normandy’s_ docking tube formed a hard seal against the rear hatch of the _Fedele._   Joker affirmed their status over the comm.  “Ma’am, we have hard lock.”

“Roger.”  Shepard nodded to Williams, who hit the switch to open _Normandy’s_ outer hatch.  It revealed a scarred metal exterior of the _Fedele_ with aging labels in turian script.  Clearly keeping the paint fresh, or indeed any kind of maintenance whatsoever, was not high on her skipper’s list.  They proceeded into the docking tube, a short protuberance of plastic and metal connecting the two ships, and the hatch shut smoothly behind them.

Shepard gave _Fedele’s_ battered back door a once-over.  “Get it open.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Williams and Garrus approached the hatch of the _Fedele_.  The VI yelled a warning about decontamination procedures.  Shepard disabled the audio output.

The fourth member of their boarding party, Urdnot Wrex, checked the action on his shotgun while they waited.  Shepard arched a single red eyebrow underneath the clear polycarbonate mask of her breather helmet.  “Restless?”

“Eager,” he grunted.  “You have a nice boat, but I’m tired of staring at the walls.”

“I’d think a merc would be used to long hauls across the galaxy.”  Shepard was amused.  Her gaze shifted to the two working the lock.  “When will my hatch be available?”

“Almost got it, ma’am.”

Wrex smiled.  “Usually, traveling with other freelancers is as entertaining as the actual fight.”

“Things can get a little tense?”

“Sure.  Gambling, boasting, short tempers.  The usual.”  He eyed her.  “You know, you never asked me why I was interested in Saren.”

“Saren had to be dirty for years, if not decades.  You have a beef with him.  I imagine you’re hardly alone.”

“Yeah, but this was strange,” he said slowly. 

Shepard tilted her head.  “If it was important, you’d have forced it down my throat long before now.”

“I wasn’t sure it was.  Still not sure you’ll buy it.”  He studied her through his own mask, with that almost predatory grin that was his trademark.  “That turian was up to all kinds of-“

Williams twisted the latch bolting the _Fedele’s_ hatch closed, and a ball of fire ripped through the docking tube.

The next two seconds passed too quickly for Shepard to recall with any clarity.  She was blinded.  Her shields went down almost instantaneously, but not before absorbing enough of the blast’s concussive force to save her life.  Her hands scrabbled in the darkness, pure instinct, seeking any kind of handhold to prevent being blown into empty space.  Gloved fingers snagged against a discontinuity in smoothness, a warped panel, maybe.  Her body’s movement arrested.

“Status!” she called into her comm link, still trying to blink away starbursts. 

Garrus came on the line.  “Still here, Shepard.  What the hell was that?”

“Ash?” she asked.

“Still coming around.”  A pause.  “Her armor’s pretty banged up, but she doesn’t seem badly hurt.”

Another voice joined them.  It was Wrex.  He was laughing.  Shepard shook her head.

“Commander, come in!”  Joker sounded frantic.

Her vision started to clear.  She was hanging off the side of the _Fedele_.  The hatch, about three meters from her position, was wide open.  “This is Shepard.  The hatch was rigged with some kind of explosive device.  We’re ok.”

“The airlock sensors got knocked offline.  I’m trying to get them back.”

Pieces of the docking tube were drifting all around them.  Shepard licked her lips.  “That might take a while.”

“Ma’am?”

The _Normandy_ was receding from their position.  She frowned.  Any blast large enough to impart appreciable acceleration to something with the mass of her ship would have been fully sufficient to leave her boarding team a pile of red paste.  The _Fedele_ was on the move.  And with their docking equipment destroyed, extraction became a lengthy process.

“The tube’s gone,” she reported tersely, making a quick decision.  “We proceed as planned.  Once the ship is under our control, we’ll re-establish docking.”

“Roger that.”  _Normandy’s_ intrasystem drive flared, putting more maneuvering room between it and the _Fedele_.  “Good luck, Commander.  Joker out.”

Shepard picked her way towards the hatch and set her magboots down inside.  Garrus passed her Chief Williams, who stumbled as her feet met the floor.  She peered at her face through the half-blackened mask.  “How you doing, Chief?”

Williams got off a half-assed salute.  “In one piece, ma’am.”

“You can sit tight at the door.  I doubt anyone will bother you.”

“No ma’am,” she said, a touch unsteadily.  “I’ll walk it off.  Just a little dizzy.”

Nothing about her posture suggested broken bones or internal injuries, and there wasn’t any blood or bruising visible on her face to indicate getting bashed against the inside of her helmet.  Shepard checked her suit biometrics just to be sure.  “Alright.  Hang back and guard our rear.  Your armor’s shot to hell.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

Wrex and Garrus landed behind her, weapons drawn.  The turian glanced her way.  “We’re going ahead with the plan?”

“You better believe it.”  There was real anger in her voice.  “This bitch didn’t want my attention, but she sure as hell has it now.”

“She’s willing to damage her own ship to slow you down,” Wrex commented, casually, as if he were speaking of the weather.  “This won’t be the last trap.”

Garrus made a sound of agreement, but added, “The inner hatch will be clean.  If that door goes, the whole ship vents to space.”

“So how are we supposed to get it open?” Williams asked.  “Without the outer hatch there’s no way to seal the airlock.”

Shepard was studying the controls inside the airlock.  “Turian ship.  You served in the Hierarchy navy, Garrus- does this thing have an emergency shutter like the _Normandy_?”

He looked over her shoulder.  “It should.  Try that switch.  But Shepard, if we close it, we’re not getting back out this way.”

“We never were,” Shepard said, and activated the shutter.  It slammed across the opening on the outer hull, sealing them into the airlock.  It was the final safeguard against depressurization.  They would need to override the controls from the ship’s life support center- a lengthy and tedious process not likely to happen with Dahlia’s people after them.

It left them in complete darkness.  Shepard fumbled her way to the inner hatch and turned the manual lock.  Garrus was probably right.  Rigging the inner hatch to blow would be stupidly risky.  But Ash’s armor was wrecked and it was a small wonder of fate that her body hadn’t followed.  It was a reality of command that sometimes her orders hurt her people.  Sometimes she even knew it would happen when she gave them.  But Shepard _hated_ it when one of them took a shot meant for her.

Ten minutes ago, this was about unethical mercenaries and rogue scientists.  Dahlia just had to go and make it personal.

The airlock completed pressurization, and the hatch swung inward on the cargo bay.  Shepard advanced into the hold, rifle raised.  Her squad crowded behind her.

There were crates jamming the way in all directions.  Only a single narrow path led inward from the airlock, barely wide enough for them to walk two abreast, and dimly illuminated by Shepard’s gun-mounted flashlight.  It also lit the labels on the boxes and shipping containers.

Wrex grunted, somewhere between admiration and surprise.  “There’s enough ordnance in here to take out half a colony.”

“Lab equipment, too.”  Shepard shone her light on a foam-guarded wooden skeleton holding a plastic-wrapped glovebox in place for shipping.  “Looks new.  Saleon must have some accounts C-Sec didn’t freeze.”

Garrus kept his rifle level.  “Dahlia clearly runs a more diversified business than simple guns-for-hire.”

“The explosives could be the doctor’s,” Shepard speculated, not believing it.  She took another step, felt resistance, and froze instantaneously.  “Wait-“

She spoke too slowly.  Beside her, Garrus pulled his boot across the tripwire. 

Shepard tried to shove them both out of the way, but her reaction speed couldn’t top that of the trigger.  The side of the nearest crate exploded towards them, showering the human and turian in something warm and wet.  They were thrown roughly across the narrow path; Garrus’ elbow wound up in her stomach, knocking the wind out of her.  He stumbled and slipped.

Shepard’s blood was still racing with adrenaline in anticipation of a grenade blast, or a flamethrower, or something of considerable violence.  Yet all their blunder yielded was a coating of sticky red.  Bits of wood and other refuse clung to it.  Lab supplies- test tubes, waste pans, wash bottles- lay scattered about their ankles.

She scraped the muck off her faceplate.  “I’m really starting to hate this place.”

Garrus stirred next to her, sitting up.  A petri dish slid off his head.  “What happened?”

“Trip wire rigged to some kind of fluid dispenser.”  Shepard hauled him to his feet.  “It came from one of the doctor’s crates.  Hell only knows what this crap is made from, but it doesn’t seem to be harmful to the suit.”

“I don’t get it,” Williams said, looking over the remains of the explosion.  “Why not rig it to do some real damage?  They’re not hurting for supplies.”

“There’s enough munitions in here to break the ship in half if a fire got out of control.”  Shepard shook her head at the sheer idiocy of the situation.   “I’m surprised at her caution, though, after the way she blew that hatch.  I guess she has some sanity after all.”

Wrex picked through the wreckage, searching for the source of the ignition.  “So if Saren boarded the _Normandy_ , you’d let him have it?”

“That’s different.  My ship has cutting-edge technology and is a key asset to winning this war.”  The words came perhaps a touch too quickly.

“Sure,” Wrex said, not buying it.  He held up the remains of the charge, still attached to the wire.  “This Dahlia reminds me a little of a commando I used to know.  Aveena.  Heh.  Haven’t thought about her in a long time.”

No amount of wiping would remove the red goop.  Shepard settled for removing most of the debris stuck to it.  Williams was trying not to snicker. “Better make sure to get an extra-careful decontam after extraction, ma’am.”

Garrus was having a similar problem cleaning up.  “I think it’s some kind of nutrient bath.  That bastard had vats of it back on the Citadel for growing tissue.  Stinks to high heaven.”

Shepard started forward again, at a much slower pace, watching the ground with a hawk eye.  “You were trying to tell me a story, back in the airlock, about Saren.”

Wrex snorted.  “Yeah.  That.  Not much to tell.  Not even sure why I brought it up.”

“We’ve got a few minutes.”  The direct route to the elevator was blocked off by Dahlia’s stores.  It would take some time to wind back around.  And if the mercenaries could break the Alliance encryptions on their helmet-to-helmet frequency, they had bigger problems than being overheard.

“It was a few years ago, out in the Terminus.  I heard about a job.  Good pay, but they said the best part was the boss was never around.  Easy credits.”

That gave her pause.  “I didn’t realize Saren was openly recruiting mercs.”

“It wasn’t that open.  I didn’t even know his name when I was hired.  And I only saw his face once.”  Wrex shuddered.  “I’ll never forget it.”

“He’s an ugly son-of-a-bitch, it’s true,” Shepard remarked lightly, peering around a corner.  Williams giggled behind her.

“I’m not joking around, Shepard.”  Wrex’s voice was a low growl.  “We captured a huge heavy-hauler, killed the crew, and were, uh, taking inventory when he came aboard.  Some of the other mercs called him by name, but he just kept moving through the ship.  Watching.  Cold.  Never spoke a word.”

Garrus, true to his C-Sec roots, spotted the inconsistency.  “You said he was hands-off.  What made this freighter special?”

“No idea.  There’s more war gear on this sorry boat than I ever saw on that run.  I got a real bad feeling when I saw him watching us like that, nothing of value aboard, and I got the hell out.  I didn’t even wait around to get paid.”

Shepard had difficulty picturing it, with what she knew of Wrex.  “You bailed because the boss wasn’t friendly?”

“I’ve only felt like that once before in my life, on the way to a Crush where my father tried to kill me.  You better believe I trust it.  Taking a walk saved my life.  Every one of the mercs I worked with on that run ended up dead within the week.  Every damn one.”

It made a horrible kind of sense, and confirmed Shepard’s suspicions that Saren planned this betrayal for years.  No government in the galaxy tendered a fondness for mercenaries.  Even within their territories, the sudden disappearance of an independent team, unaffiliated with any of the major players, would go uninvestigated.  Out in the Terminus there was no chance.  The only question left was what was in the hold of that freighter that Saren wanted with such urgency and secrecy.  That was a thought to keep her up at night.

Her light shone on a thin gunmetal gray wire strand.  “Got another one.”

She knelt and traced it back to its trigger.  Shepard blinked twice. 

Garrus squeezed in to take a look.  “I’ll be damned.”

“What?” Williams asked.

Shepard tensed the wire a bit, double-checking her assumption.  An invisible stream of gas blew dust off the floor.  “It’s tied to a homemade flamethrower.  What were we assuming about Dahlia’s sensibility, again?”

“Who the hell puts a flamethrower in the middle of an ordnance stockpile?”

“My point exactly.”  She straightened.  “Mind your step.”

Garrus had gone on ahead.  His flashlight ran over several lines of salarian script, labeling a stack of boxes.  “I might have something here.”

Shepard scanned the words.  “’Warning: Live Animal Transport’?  What the hell?”

Williams coughed.  “It gets worse, ma’am.  This box is torn open.  Some of the contents are missing.”

Shepard followed her voice with her flashlight, her brow furrowed.  The chief continued her careful search, laying a pool of light across the metal floor plates of the cargo bay.  She jumped as a skittering noise came from the depths of the hold, her flashlight flicking towards the sound.  “What was that?”

“Easy there, Chief.”  Shepard, too, swung her light around to get a better look.  “Probably just rats.  This place isn’t exactly spic-and-span.”

Garrus located the inventory stapled to the side of the crate and began to flip through it.  “Salarians typically use newts as surrogates for scientific testing.”

“Rats, newts, whatever.”  Williams swallowed.  “Why does it have to be damned rats?”

Wrex found that funny.  “Those tiny furry vermin frighten you human soldiers?  Your Alliance needs some shaping up.”

“I just don’t like rats, ok?”  The chief shuddered.  “My sister Abby used to keep pet mice.  One of them had babies, and they escaped their cage.  We were finding mice and parts of mice, in closets, in our shoes, even in the jar of flour, until our father got a new posting.”

The skittering came again, closer this time.  Her breath was loud over the transmitter.  “Can we focus on getting to the CIC?  Please?”

“Alright, Ash.  Alright.”  Shepard privately shared Wrex’s amusement, though she was too polite to let on.  She turned back towards the path.  “Move out.”

A small form leapt out of the darkness, flinging itself at her chest.  She slapped it out of the air on pure reflex.  It hit a crate with a meaty thump.  As Shepard knelt to examine it, another struck her shoulder.  It clung to her armor webbing with disturbing tenacity, ripping several of the fibers with its miniature claws as she tore it loose. 

Shepard stared at it.  It was bulbous, blue in color with yellow striping and overlarge dark eyes.  The creature struggled in her hand, all six of its legs flailing wildly.  The smooth dampness of its skin made it difficult to hold.

Garrus let out a startled cry.  One of the critters now clung to his knee.  He tried to pry it off without much success.  “Is this some kind of bad joke?”

The sounds of the fat blue newts scampering through the darkness of the cargo hold were now constant, and growing louder.  Shepard glanced down at her fluid-soaked suit.  _It stinks to high heaven._   “Oh, shit-“

The newts sprang from the floor in heavy waves, pelting Garrus and Shepard, too many to count.  They hung off her arms, her legs, her waist, the tubes connecting her helmet to the air purification unit on her back, slowing her down.  She whirled, cursing, trying to stymie those still finding purchase, trying to fling off those attached, stomping on them all indiscriminately with her feet. 

Garrus performed a similar dance, yelling and knocking into containers.  Williams dropped her flashlight and was crowded so far back that she was almost lost to the dark.  Wrex attempted twice to raise his shotgun to the onslaught, but was so doubled over with roaring laughter that it rendered aim impossible.

The floor was slick with blue blood.  Shepard slipped and fell hard on her ass.  The newts crawled onto her face mask, scraping at it with their feet, licking up the red goop wherever they could with glee.  She watched their barbed purple tongues lap over the plastic, and lay back with a groan.  “Fuck it.  I give up.”

Wrex finally composed himself sufficiently to fire a blast.  It narrowly avoided Garrus’ feet.  “Hey!  Watch it!”

The krogan fired a second shot.  The spooked newts fled.  A third blast secured the exodus.  Shepard sat up, pulling off the remaining stragglers.  She spared a glance for Chief Williams, who had her eyes closed, shaking quietly.

“I don’t get it,” Garrus was saying.  “What was the point?  It’s not like they could do any damage.”

“Breather helmets,” Shepard said, expelling a breath.  “They’ve managed to tear through my carbon fiber webbing in places.  If they’d gotten to skin, we’d both have chunks missing.”

“Maybe you.  Turian hide is tough.”  He grinned.

Shepard got to her feet and dusted herself off as best she could.  Over the past few months her armor had taken an enormous beating, but she never thought its last stand might be against a pack of vicious amphibians.  Small pits were forming in the ceramic plates where their blood and saliva touched it.  Her face plate was almost certainly ruined, though she could still see out of it well enough to navigate.  She couldn’t imagine what it might have done to flesh.  “How are we doing?  Chief?”

Williams drew a shaky breath.  She was green as she glanced at the critter carnage.  “I’ll be ok.”

“You sure?”  Vomiting in a helmet was a dicey proposition.  It could clog airlines and easily suffocate its user.

“Yes, ma’am.”  She clung to her rifle with determination.

They ran across a few more traps and scavenged gear.  Dahlia clearly maximized her two hours’ warning.  What was troubling Shepard, however, was the utter lack of personnel.  The cargo bay was a bad place to throw down, but it took more than fighters to fly a ship.  The _Fedele’s_ skipper didn’t strike her as the kind of woman to pull her people back for protection.  The whole deck was pitch black, from bow to stern.  Someone cut the emergency lighting in violation of Systems Alliance safety regulations for ships operating in their territory.

The hoard of crates thinned as they neared the elevator.  The _Fedele_ was larger than the _Normandy_ , and her design schematics showed the elevator visiting all three decks.  Engineering and life support, however, were still located in a pocket behind the shaft, next to the drive core.  The hatch on each side was welded shut, dousing any hope of leveraging control of those critical systems against Dahlia. 

Shepard was about to leave it be, when Chief Williams said, “Did anyone else hear that?”

“Hear what?” Garrus asked.  Wrex moved towards the hatch, eyeing it suspiciously.

There was a bang from the engineering room.  Shepard grimaced.  “That didn’t sound like machinery.”

“Told you there was nothing wrong with my ears, ma’am.”  Williams was smug.

Shepard banged her gloved hand on the door, sharply, three times.  The answer came almost immediately, a frantic pounding on the opposite side. 

“Fuck,” Shepard said, to no one in particular.

Williams rapped back with her fist, matching their rhythm.  “They locked their own people in, ma’am.  Why would anyone do that?”

“Why?”  Shepard sighed.  “Because cutting yourself off from life support is a bad idea, particularly when you’ve rigged your cargo bay with all kinds of traps.  And because if they were given an order to, say, destabilize the drive core, there’s absolutely nothing we could do about it.”

Williams gave her a long look.  “I don’t know whether to be impressed or scared that your mind worked it out that fast.”

Garrus eyed the hatch.  “They don’t sound like they’re waiting for orders.”

Shepard brought up her suit diagnostics on her omni-tool, checking the air sampling.  Wrex shook his head.  “Bad idea. Best thing would be to put a few rounds through the door, but if you don’t like that, at least deal with them later.”

“How can you even think of that?”  Williams was disgusted.  “Those people are trapped.  They need help.”

“Stand down, Chief.  Wrex is right.  It’s a risk leaving them behind us given where they’re trapped.”  Shepard started to undo the neck seal on her helmet.  “That’s why I want to talk to them first.”

The cargo bay’s air might be clean, but it positively reeked of nutrient gel and newt blood, harsh and primal odors that left her coughing.  She approached the door and raised her voice.  “Can you hear me?”

There was some scuffling, and an asari voice answered, “Yes.”

A half-second later, Shepard’s translation protocol rendered it in English.  Apparently the muffling of the door was messing with its reception.  She flicked it off.  The crewman was speaking Thessian, the textbook dialect, and it was far less annoying than listening to lag.  “Is everyone alright in there?  How many are you?”

“We’re fine.  Our indicators are good.”  There was a pause, and the sound of more movement.  “I’m the Chief Engineer and my three assistants are here as well.  Dahlia’s lost her mind.  She thinks C-Sec is coming for her ship.  We’re not even in Council space!”

It was true; the Traverse was a gray area, legally-speaking.  “I’m a spectre operating on information that your captain is transporting a dangerous criminal.  I’m here for the doctor, nothing else.”

A small lie- after Dahlia chose violence against her squad, there was no going back- but she didn’t need a second ship.  She hadn’t given much thought to what would happen to the _Fedele_ after seizing control.

A longer pause.  “We don’t want any trouble with a spectre.  We’re just engineers.  We didn’t sign on for this!”

Shepard contemplated her options.  The asari sounded sincere, and frightened.  Her story made sense.  “I don’t have time open this hatch right now, but if you sit tight and keep everything running smoothly, I can promise I’ll come back, and nobody on your team will be harmed.  Agreed?”

“Agreed,” the answer came swiftly, with overtones of relief.  Apparently, the engineer did not favor her captain’s odds against Shepard, either.  “That salarian is a nasty piece of work.  And Dahlia’s got her mercs eating out of her hand.  They’ll die to protect her.”

“Well, that’s their choice.  Stay calm- it won’t be much longer.”  Shepard stepped back, and replaced her helmet.  “We need to find Dahlia and Saleon.”

Garrus looked back towards the elevator.  “She’s probably in the CIC.  Saleon could be anywhere.”

“We take out Dahlia first.”  They piled into the elevator, and Shepard hit the button for Deck 1. 

It rose smoothly for the first several seconds before shuddering to a stop.  The lights in the carriage went out.  Shepard’s hand slapped against the black composite of her helmet’s forehead.  “True or false.  If I had someone back on the _Normandy_ crawl out a hatch and look through a port on this ship, I’d be better informed of what’s going on than I am right now.”

Garrus flicked on his light and opened the control panel.  “The board’s dead.”

Shepard looked up.  The elevator had a maintenance access hatch.  “Only one way up, then.”

She blew the lock off with her pistol and reached up to flip open the trapdoor.  There were moments when being awkwardly tall presented its advantages.  She started to squirm her way through.

Wrex gave her a leg up.  “There’s no way I’m fitting through that hatch, Shepard.”

“We’ll figure out how to get it moving again once we’re in the shaft.”  She pulled herself the rest of the way with a grunt.  “There’s got to be some kind of emergency override.”

From the roof of the carriage Shepard could see slender lines of light outlining the hatch leading to Deck 2.  It was within reach.  Leveraging it open, however, was a different matter. 

She reached down to haul Garrus out of the carriage, quickly followed by Williams.  Wrex scowled up at them.  “I haven’t got all day.”

“And if you don’t give us at least five minutes to look around, you may be there more than one,” she shot back.  She started scanning the roof for any kind of electrical switch.  Garrus and Williams checked the cabling and guide rails.

After about a minute of this, without warning, the carriage lurched.  The oiled cables began to slide smoothly as service resumed.  Garrus stared.  “No.”

“Shit, shit, shit!”  Shepard rushed towards the hatch.  “Help me!”

Williams responded to the order with the speed of bone-deep conditioning.  The two women pulled at the doors.  Garrus was dumbfounded.  “She can’t crush us.  There’s clearance past the upper elevator hard stops.”

“Yeah, but she sure as fuck can park it there and leave us until we starve.”  Shepard strained against the hatch, her boots scrabbling for purchase.  “There’s no way out through the floor!”

Garrus joined Williams.  Beneath them, Shepard heard Wrex grunting as he prised open the inner hatch.  As the carriage neared the second deck, leverage got easier.  When the elevator carriage was a quarter of the way up the door, it finally gave way.

“Go!” Shepard shouted.  They squirmed through the aperture.  As it rose, Wrex’s head and shoulders appeared, his shotgun level in his hands.  He dove towards the deck.  The other three just barely cleared the floor before he landed, heavily, knocking the wind out of himself.  The elevator lumbered past without them.

They all lay there a moment, sprawled in the _Fedele’s_ mess, breathing deeply.

At last, Shepard stood and brushed the dust off her armor as best she could.  “When this cruise is over, I’m definitely lodging a complaint with the management.”

Wrex offered her that unnerving grin of his.  “This is the most fun I’ve had on a boat in a long time.  I just wish the other guests would join us.”

“You know, I don’t usually take any pleasure in killing,” Shepard said.  “But this one I’m going to savor.”

“Liar.”  Wrex’s grin grew wider.  “You like it.”

“I enjoy being great at what I do.  That’s distinct from enjoying taking life.”

“Whatever you say, Shepard.”

“Ma’am,” Williams interrupted, drawing her attention further down the deck.  “We have a situation.”

She pointed with her rifle.  A half-dozen anxious faces of various species were pressed against the glass window of the med bay.  None of them looked to be in good health, but there were no visible injuries.  The hatch was deactivated, but not welded shut as with engineering on Deck 3.  As Shepard approached, one of the patients, human, pressed a button for the intercom.  “Who are you?”

She hoped to hell he was keeping the transmission limited to this deck.  She opened up an additional port on her comm to interface with the system.  “Commander Shepard, with the Systems Alliance.  I’m going to take a wild guess that you came aboard with Dr. Saleon?”

The group nodded, almost as one.  “He said C-Sec was sending a spectre.”

“I’m that, too.  We’re going to get you out of here.”  Shepard stowed her rifle and peered into the room.

Garrus came up beside her.  “Lucas.  I remember you from my investigation.”

“Detective Vakarian.”  He sounded shocked, but also relieved.  “How did you get here?”

“The Commander keeps strange company.”  Garrus looked them over.  “Is everyone ok in there?”

He nodded.  Shepard finished her inspection.  “Looks secure.  Let’s get this hatch working-“

“No!” The response was immediate, in several different languages, as the patients surged towards the window. 

Shepard paused in her step.  “What don’t we know?”

Lucas pressed the comm button.  “That bastard left us in here for a reason.  He rigged the door with some kind of infectious agent.  I think he was hoping you would open it without thinking, or waste time trying to disarm it.”

“This is movie villain crap,” Shepard complained.

Garrus shrugged.  “It’s Saleon’s style.”

She glanced at him.  “You believe this is legit?”

“Let’s just say I don’t think we can afford to guess wrong.”

Moving to the far end of the window to improve her angle on the interior of the hatch didn’t reveal any new information.  If Saleon left a trap, it was wedged between the panels.  “Forget the door.  Can we break the windows?”

She was interrupted by a burst of comm static and a cough from Joker.  “Commander, this is _Normandy_ , come in.”

“Shepard.  What’s wrong?”  She took a few steps away from med bay, turning her back on the windows. 

“We figured out where your crazy asari skipper is taking the _Fedele_.”

“The suspense is killing me.”

“Dahlia destabilized the orbit.”

There was no possible way she heard that right.  That was insane, even by her standards.  “Say again, _Normandy_?”

“The _Fedele_ is going down, in about four hours.  But the really bad news is in another twenty minutes or so, the trajectory will be irreversible given the ship’s maximum sustained thrust.”

Shepard’s gut twisted into a knot.  “What’s our extraction window?”

“Maybe an hour?  I’m good, but you’ll be putting the ship at risk.”

“Roger that.  Planned rendezvous is ETA sixty minutes.  One way or another, we’ll be there.”  She blew out a breath.  “Shepard out.”

A roomful of people were staring at her.  Her hands clasped behind her back as her gaze shifted from one face to another.  “Our timeline just got a little crunched.  Nothing we can’t handle, but we need move now.  Dahlia’s almost certainly in the CIC.  Does anyone know where Saleon is hiding?”

The patients shook their heads.  One offered, “Last we saw, he went upstairs on the elevator.”

“Alright.  So they’re likely together.”  She looked at Garrus.  “Next problem.  The elevator is out of commission.  How do we get to the upper deck?”

His mandibles clacked briefly, a gesture Shepard thought of as the turian equivalent to licking one’s lips.  “I’m not sure.  Ventilation, maybe.”

Wrex snorted in irritation.  “Your puny ventilation shafts can’t handle all this.”

He gestured to himself.  Shepard tried not to roll her eyes.  Before she could say anything, there was a whimper from the mess.  Her gun was in her hand with barely half a thought.  “Cover me.”

Her squad moved into position wordlessly.  The sound came from a countertop island at the far end of the mess.  _Fedele_ was large enough to rate a full kitchen.  She advanced steadily.  Nothing was visible over the top of the counter.  She swung around the side.

“Nooooo!”  The screech was high and grating on the ears.  There was a flurry of motion in a knee-hole pocket as the owner of the screech scrabbled for nonexistent cover.  “Stop!  I hurt nobody!”

“What in the hell?”  Shepard snapped on her flashlight.

The creature cowered beneath the island.  Its beady yellow eyes stared up at her, gleaming almost as brightly as its pointed, razor-sharp teeth.  It shied back from the light. 

“Pleeeease!” it said.

Shepard lowered her rifle a fraction.  “It’s a vorcha.”

Lucas piped up.  “That’s just Krail.  He’s the cook.”

“You let a vorcha cook your food?” she asked in disbelief.  Vorcha were known to be dirty, nasty, and violent. 

“Yes, yes, I cook.”  Krail nodded emphatically.  The sallow cords of his skin seemed a touch pale in her flashlight beam.

Wrex took his incredulity a step farther.  “You let one of these pyjacks on your ship?”

Lucas pressed his palms against the window.  “Dahlia found him when he was young.  Krail’s alright.  Let him be.”

Shepard gave that information due consideration.  “So you’re… what, Dahlia’s foster child?”

“Dahlia good, yes.”  He nodded some more.  “Dahlia find me, on Omega.”

_Dahlia left you on this deck to die,_ Shepard thought, lips pursed.  Aloud, she kept her voice calm, even friendly, moving her rifle away.  “I apologize.  I didn’t know.”

Krail peered up at her uncertainly.  His beady eyes shifted from Shepard to each of her team in turn. 

“The ship’s in trouble,” Shepard went on.  It was a version of the truth.  Everything was far from right, anyway.  “I’m here to help, but I can’t find Dahlia.”

“Dahlia upstairs,” he hissed.  “You leave Krail alone!”

She glanced aft.  “Elevator’s broken.  Is there another way up?”

He sucked in a breath.  Shepard knelt down to his level, and applied a little pressure.  “It’s very important I find her quickly.  The ship is going to crash into a planet.”

Her earnest blue eyes never wavered as he narrowed his gaze.  “I help you find Dahlia, you help ship?  You no hurt Krail?”

“You have my word,” Shepard promised, holding out her hand.

He allowed her to help him out from under the counter.  He wrinkled his nose.  “Battery.”

Krail started walking towards the bow.  Shepard and her team followed.  “What’s in the battery?”

“Maintenance shaft.”  Even calm, the vorcha’s voice was like a tortured violin.  It set her teeth on edge.  “Goes straight to bridge.  I show you.”

Williams coughed.  “There’s a shaft in the _Normandy_ that runs from the battery to the bridge.  I didn’t remember until just now.”

Shepard raised an eyebrow.  Chief Williams was blushing behind her mask.  “Something you want to share, Ash?”

“No, ma’am.”  She held herself at attention. 

Shepard had been in the navy a lot longer than she’d had private quarters aboard ship.  She was familiar with the potential uses of hidden spaces and decided not to press the issue.  “It’s worth checking out.”

The vorcha pointed at the ceiling as they piled into the battery.  What expense Dahlia spared on routine maintenance had been lavished on the replacement artillery.  The _Fedele’s_ main cannon was state-of-the-art.  It had also obviously seen use, from the scarring tracing the sides where it slid along its rails.

The hatch was locked, by an internal mechanism betrayed only by a keyhole, protecting it from most forced entry techniques.  Shepard suppressed a sigh.  “I don’t know, Krail.  It looks locked up tight.”

His grubby hand reached under his torn shirt.  “Krail has key.  Dahlia send Krail into dirty places where asari no like to go.”

He climbed up on the back of the gun and reached up towards the hatch, balanced precariously between the barrels.  Then he swung up into the shaft with the agility of a monkey and disappeared.

Shepard followed as swiftly as she could, making a grab for his ankle, but he was too quick.  There was no help for it.  She could only try to minimize Dahlia’s forewarning.

Her head emerged beside the co-pilot couch.  A turian woman was slumped over the controls, quite clearly dead.  The pilot’s couch was vacant.  It was a simple situation to read- the co-pilot refused the order to crash the ship, and paid for it dearly.  What a waste.  Shepard shook her head, and hauled herself up onto the deck as quietly as she could.

Krail was already teetering towards the CIC.  “Dahlia!”

Shepard reached back and pulled Garrus through, followed by Williams.  Wrex was in a spot of trouble.  His hump kept catching on the pipes lining the shaft.  He waved them forward.

Shepard pointed aft and began to creep towards Dahlia’s probable location, past the main airlock, taking some scant cover from the crew couches lining the walls of the deck.

The mercenaries assembled at the heart of the ship were mostly asari, with a few turians for spice.  Dahlia stood out.  Her solid build and evident ferocity commanded attention.  A serviceable shotgun sat in her hands as she paced.  Her people milled about the deck, uneasy, waiting.

Krail’s bare feet slapped against the metal of the deck. He waved his arm.  “Dahlia!”

“What is it?” Dahlia snapped, turning towards her name.

Shepard sighted on the woman’s forehead.

“People here to fix ship!”  Krail pointed back towards the bridge.

Dahlia’s eyes snapped down the length of the CIC, her gun following a fraction of a second behind.  They focused like a laser on Shepard’s rifle peeking over the armrest of a couch.  The asari let loose a blast without bothering to shoo the vorcha out of the way.

He screeched and dove for cover, trailing blood from his leg.  Shepard managed to return fire before being forced to a new position, but the shots went wide.

“Kill them all,” Dahlia snarled, more frost than fury.  Her band fired as one.

It was one of those dirty, desperate fights that seemed to stretch on forever.  A basic couch with metal frame and synthetic padding did little to stop bullets, and there was nowhere else to hide.  Shepard was trying to aim between moments of keeping out of sight, but all she had were brief impressions before she was forced to either fire or sacrifice the shot.  She knew some of them hit, though less than she’d like.

Across the way, Garrus and Williams were also struggling.  Williams’ armor was so busted up she was almost lying on the floor under the couches to avoid enemy fire, though she still managed to lay down a covering barrage with her assault rifle, sweeping out the area around the mercs’ ankles.  Garrus was trying to guard her while returning fire of his own.  He was a good shot, one of the best Shepard had met, but skill only counted for so much a situation like this.  Between the three of them, they kept the mercs from advancing, only just.

Every time Shepard gave back an inch of ground for additional cover she could sense the tide turning against them.  “We could really use a hand right now!”

“How about a head?” came Wrex’s voice behind her.  He pumped his shotgun and hunched his shoulders

She scarcely had time to turn before the krogan let out a yell and barreled towards the very surprised mercenaries.  He knocked one of the asari flat on her back and shot another in one smooth motion.  It gave them the breathing room they needed to press forward. 

“I have got to learn how to do that,” Shepard muttered to herself, as she put down one of the turians.

With all of her fighters dead or injured past any state of combat readiness, Dahlia alone was left standing in the middle of her CIC, attempting to force her cooling shotgun to fire as Wrex knocked it from her hands.  She kicked at his abdomen.  The heavy krogan didn’t even rock back.  She used the force of the blow to give her a head start running towards the elevator shaft, her whole form limbed in blue light as she approached the gaping hatch.

Shepard raised her run and sighted.  “Oh no you don’t.”

Dahlia’s leg went out from under her just as she tensed to leap, presumably to drift gently down to Deck 3 under the influence of her biotics.  Instead, she ended up face-first on the floor.

Shepard stepped over the bodies, her gun never wavering.  Dahlia attempted a biotic attack, but the hurled sphere of dark energy went wide.  She cursed her in some asari language Shepard didn’t know.  “Why?”

“Why not?”  Shepard placed the muzzle of her gun against the asari’s forehead.  The woman’s lip curled back.  Shepard continued as if nothing had happened.  “You’re transporting a known criminal and I work for the Citadel in addition to the Alliance whose space you are violating.  Even if that were not the case, you’ve got enough illicit ordnance in your cargo bay to justify my actions.”

“Since when do spectres care whether their decisions are warranted?”  Her eyes blazed up at Shepard, unapologetic and filled with rage and loathing.

“I think most of us care, but justification is a matter of perspective, after all.”  She paused.  “I suppose it’s not worth asking if you’ll cooperate.”

Dahlia spat at her.  Shepard sighed.  “Where’s your pilot?  Not the dead one.  The one crazy enough to listen to you.”

“Also dead.”  A laugh, derisive.  “You shot her.  And now we die.  We are all prisoners of gravity, whether we like it or not.”

“You needn’t remind me of the power of nature.  I almost kicked it in a volcano a few months ago.  But I have no intention of dying on this ship.”  Shepard pulled the trigger back, just enough that a twitch would send it over the edge.  “How do I stabilize the orbit?”

“Fuck you,” Dahlia said, and banged her head against the gun.  It was unexpected, and it was enough.  The rifle, tensed and ready, jarred in her hands and released a bullet into the asari’s skull.  She fell back, staring blankly at the bulkhead.

The gun dangled from her hand, tiredly.  Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long breath. 

Williams looked around the now quiet CIC.  “This could have ended better.”

“It ended pretty much how I expected it would.”  Shepard glanced at the bodies.  “There are no salarians here.”

There was a piercing wail from the fore of the ship.  Her brow furrowed.  From under one of the bullet-riddled couches crawled the vorcha Krail, limping, and caterwauling like the world was coming to an end. 

He stumbled over, trailing blood, and threw himself on Dahlia.  “You kill her!”

Shepard honestly couldn’t think of what to say.  “She shot you.  You were standing between her and us, and she didn’t care.  I’m sorry.”

“You kill her!” he cried again, rocking back and forth, clutching at her hardsuit.

Garrus pointed out, “Technically, she shot herself.  Shepard was only holding the gun.”

Krail continued hugging the body and making pitiful little sounds.  It was both absurd and terrible.  Shepard turned away.

“He’s an enemy combatant,” Wrex stated.

“Do you want to shoot him?”

Wrex scowled.  “Waste of ammo.”

“Then I don’t want to hear about it.”  She turned to Garrus.  “What’s left?  Where is the doctor?”

“Comm room.  We’ve looked everywhere else.”  His stare hardened as he looked aft, past the elevator.

“We move in quick and quiet,” Shepard said, checking her weapon.  “Restrain the doctor, break the windows in med bay, free the engineers, and get the hell out of here.”

Garrus grabbed her arm.  “Wait, restrain?”

“We’ve had this conversation, Detective Vakarian,” she said sharply.  “On my crew we don’t take the law into our own hands.  We’re not going to execute him.”

His grip tightened.  “He’ll get away again.  You have no idea how sneaky this bastard is.  Trust me.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”  Shepard offered him a grim smile.  “He’s not going anywhere.”

Garrus scowled, but held his peace.  Shepard glanced at the remainder of her team.  “Chief, get to the bridge and see if Joker can talk you through reengaging the autopilot.  Wrex, secure the CIC.  I don’t want any more surprises.”

They moved into position.  Shepard and Garrus approached the comm room alone, and in silence.  But as they tagged open the hatch, they realized they failed to catch the doctor by surprise.

The olive-skinned salarian was dressed in a spotless lab coat and freshly-shined shoes.  He turned smoothly to face them, his hands clasped behind his back, the picture of calm.  His nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath.

“Dr. Saleon?” Shepard asked.

His mouth twitched, looking her up and down.  “Commander Shepard, I presume? 

She glanced at her blue-and-red stained hardsuit, with all kinds of dust and refuse clinging to the congealing liquids.  “I’m not having the best day.”

His gaze shifted.  “And Detective Vakarian.”

Shepard’s eyes flicked to Garrus, briefly.  “You’re sure it’s him?”

“Positive.”  His expression settled into a hard, angry sneer as he regarded the doctor.  “You won’t escape this time.  I’d harvest your organs first but we don’t have that kind of time.”

“I don’t know what he’s told you about me, Commander, but I promise you I am a legitimate scientist, with a perfectly legal practice.”  He spoke crisply, affronted.  “And since you’ve seen fit to murder my escort, I’ll have to demand you take me the rest of the way to my new facility.”

Shepard laughed.  “Not a chance.  Your guilt or innocence is for C-Sec to decide.  We’re taking you back to the Citadel.”

“But we have him!” Garrus protested, gesturing with his gun.  There was a desperate edge to his voice.

“No.  If he dies, we’ll never know everything that happened.”  Shepard stood her ground.  “We’ll take him back to the Citadel, interrogate him, and he’ll serve his time.  That’s my final word.”

“Ah.”  The salarian cleared his throat.  “I was afraid it might come to this.”

He drew his arm out from behind his back and raised his hand to the light.  In his grasp sparkled a slim glass vial.  “I’ve taken precautions, you see.”

“Yes, your little trap back on Deck 2.”  Garrus was dismissive.  “We didn’t trigger it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”  Saleon allowed himself a hint of a smile.  “The med bay seals off hermetically from the rest of the ship, to contain contaminants.  I’ve been circulating my specially engineered virus through its ducts since Commander Shepard threatened this vessel over the comm.  I expect by now it’s incubating quite merrily within my loyal staff.”

Every muscle in Garrus’ neck was tensed with the urge to fly at him.  “You bastard.”

“That test tube holds the antidote?” Shepard hazarded, more pragmatically. 

“Quite.  I apologize for these barbaric tactics, Spectre, but turians can be so rash.”  His tongue clicked regretfully.  “I wanted to be sure you and I had time to negotiate.”

“You know Garrus wanted to shoot down your ship when you fled, hostages or no.  It was C-Sec who let you live.”

“Really?  I’m surprised.  Nonetheless, here we are.”

“What is it you want?”

“Safe passage and a promise to be left in peace.”  Saleon was frank.  “My work is important.  I’m sure you can appreciate sometimes science must occur outside the boundaries of over-restrictive laws, just as your own work sometimes crosses legal lines.”

Shepard gave a derisive snort.  “Organ harvests are bush-league.  Nothing cutting edge there.”

“Yet the process frequently produces higher-quality tissue than other methods, and more quickly.  The recipients are healthy, most of my staff is still alive and earning more money than they could have on their own.”

“You exploit them.”

“These are people who lack any individual skills or means.  Most of them are grateful.”  He paused.  “I’m willing to offer you a stake in my enterprise.  You’d have full access to the facilities, a stake in the profits, and of course given your line of work you may find our services convenient at some point.”

She studied him, her brain going into overdrive as she calculated all the ways the next twenty seconds might play out.  Garrus mistook her silence for consideration.  “Shepard, you can’t seriously be thinking about taking his offer.”

Her glance was very dry, refusing to dignify that with a response.  Instead, she addressed the salarian.  “Doctor, by the authority vested in me by the Citadel Council, I am taking you into custody to await investigation of your crimes by Citadel Security.  Will you come quietly?”

His lips twisted into a snarl.  With one hand, he made to hurl the fragile vial to the floor, while his other reached for the sidearm secured at his belt.

That was all the incentive Garrus needed.  He sent three bullets between the salarian’s eyes before the doctor got his hand around the grip.  Shepard made a desperate dive and caught the vial in her gloved hand a fraction of a second before it struck the ground.

Her eyes closed briefly as she let out a breath of relief.

Garrus checked the doctor’s pulse.  “And so he dies anyway.  What was the point of that?”

“I’ve learned something after all these years out here, at the fringes of civilization.”  She got to her feet, careful not to crush the antidote, and gave him a long-suffering smile.  “You can’t control how people will act, Garrus.  You can only control how you respond.  In the end, that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah?”  He thought about it, slowly.  “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Shepard.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”  She turned towards the hatch.  “Let’s wrap up and get the hell off this boat.”

/\/\/\/\/\

In the end, they were too late to save the _Fedele_ from a fiery doom on the uninhabited planet Dahlia used as a way stop.  However, they did manage to get everyone off the vessel in time.  Chakwas detected strange antigens in the patients’ blood work, proving Dr. Saleon’s bad cliché of a plan was at least no bluff.  She was synthesizing more of the antidote.  _Normandy’s_ decontamination procedures managed to eliminate any trace of the virus on their suits and clothing before they came aboard.

They also located additional stockpiles of heavy munitions on the surface.  Shepard wrote up their findings in a report to send Fifth Fleet Command, care of Admiral Hackett.  If Dahlia had friends, the Alliance would soon know of it.  After the logistics officer got a look at the damage, she added a requisition order for new hardsuits for herself and Chief Williams.

Chakwas didn’t have enough beds.  The most abused patients lay on the tables while the rest crowded on chairs and desks ringing med bay.  Shepard folded her arms and stared through the windows.

Garrus joined her.  “Pretty unbelievable, isn’t it.”

“You can say that twice.”  She shook her head.  “I’m still not sure what I’m going to tell Nassana, but a lot of foul language and possibly a little brandishing of various weaponry might be involved.”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but we could use her credits.  You did the job after all.”

“Oh, she’ll pay up.  I know her dirty little secret now.”  Shepard gave him a smile.  “What’s on your mind?”

He was silent a long moment, watching Chakwas attend her charges.  “Do you think we’ll ever catch Saren?”

“Yes.”  There wasn’t a scrap of doubt or hesitation in her response.

“That simple, huh?”  He chuckled.  It was an odd sound, the flanging of his mandibles giving it the undertones of almost a growl. 

“If he wins, it’s all over.  I’ve seen the destruction.  No fleet in this galaxy is ready to face a reaper invasion.  We’ll catch him because we have no other choice.”  Her head turned back to the med bay port, expression hardening.  “And I don’t fail.”

“When you say it like that, I almost believe you.”

A grin tugged at her mouth despite her best efforts to suppress it.  “Almost?  I need to work on my delivery.”

He gestured towards the patients.  “It feels like we spend a lot of time screwing around, some days.  It’s good work, but doesn’t move us toward our goal.”

“I’ve learned to never underestimate the power of serendipity.”  Shepard shrugged.  “And there’s this.  Most people, when they get angry, they lose focus, they start making bad choices, they can’t see anything but the red veil.  When I get angry, I get better.  Sharper.  Stronger.  Always been that way.”

He rubbed his face and snorted.  “Dahlia really pissed you off something good.”

“Yeah.”  She let that comment hang in the air without further comment.  These stupid games, from both sisters, got under her skin more than she liked.  There wasn’t anything else to say.

“I know you’re doing the best you can, and if anyone can pull this off, it’s you.”  His arms moved behind his back as he assumed something resembling attention, a sign of greater respect than she’d seen from him to date.  “I guess I just wanted to say, if there is anything else I can do to help, I’m here.”

Shepard regarded Garrus quietly.  “I need a police officer.  I need someone who knows how to do this investigation crap better than I can.  I need someone who can get in Saren’s head and figure out where he’s going.  So what do you think?  Are you ready to do your job again?”

He nodded.  “Yes, Commander.”

“Good.  Get with Liara.  See what you can make of her Prothean intel with what you know about Saren.”

She watched him walk off towards the stairwell.  This day kept getting stranger and stranger.  Shepard rubbed her neck, closed her eyes a long moment, and headed back to her quarters to finish her report.

Dinner came and went before she was finished.  The remains of the meal lay beside her terminal when she typed the last full stop.  Editing out the snark alone had taken more than forty minutes.  And filing the official forms for Ash’s injuries was both tedious and guilt-inducing.  All her people were important and valuable to her, but Ash was special.  As much as the borderline insubordination and the all-too-frank opinions made her want to beat her senseless some days, a part of her delighted in them.  That kind of passion, commitment, and drive was a rarity regardless of skill or rank.  It reminded Shepard of herself, a little, back when she was young and cocky and immortal.

She stared into space and wondered if that was how Anderson looked at her sometimes.  Or if she’d have that same unshakeable solidity and horrifying world-weariness when she was forty-six.

Alright.  Time to shut the terminal, clearly.  She shook her head, laughing at herself a bit, and headed out to grab a glass of water and some downtime before bed.

She found Alenko hard at work scrubbing down the food prep area of the mess.

“KP duty?” she asked, eyebrows raised.  “Seems a little below your pay grade.”

Alenko shrugged and kept working the sponge.  “Private Fredericks wasn’t feeling well, so I told him to get some rack time.  It’s not like I’ve never needed someone to cover for me.”

“Want some help?”  It had been a long day.  Some mindless labor before she tried for sleep had appeal.

He gestured to the soapy bucket.  “Be my guest.”

She found a second sponge and started cleaning out the machine that processed their pre-frozen, half-cooked meals.  He glanced up at her.  “Heard things got kind of interesting on the _Fedele_.  Something about newts?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.  Suffice to say I’m going to keep a good distance and preferably a thick lead wall between me and any salarian laboratories from now on.”

“Those patients were in rough shape.  Chakwas said most of them are going to need ongoing treatment for months, if not years, to correct all the damage.”  There was a note of tempered anger in his voice.  “Some of them looked pretty young.  Teenagers.”

Shepard scrubbed at a particularly stubborn sauce stain.  “I can’t say Saleon didn’t meet a richly deserved fate.”

“And Ash had a close call with some kind of explosive?”

“She’s lucky to be alive.  Dahlia rigged the hatch to kill anyone who opened it.  Chakwas looked her over and pronounced her fit for duty.”  The reply was steady, uninflected, but there was no question the subject was closed. 

Watch was changing over.  Crewmen were moving from the racks near the battery, to the stairs and elevator.  They scrubbed at the mess.

“So who was that, back on the Citadel?” Shepard asked after a bit, as much to change the subject as anything else.

“Who, Mat?”  Alenko shrugged.  “We went to college together.  Dated off and on for a while, until we realized it made us want to kill each other.  He’s an old friend.”

“But still friends, huh.”  There was a certain amount of skepticism.  It wasn’t within Shepard’s personal experience that a romantic entanglement could conclude in anything less than scorched earth warfare.

“Some relationships do end peacefully, you know,” he chided her.  “Not everyone crashes their ex’s party and runs off with a stripper.”

A corporal passing through the mess on his way upstairs paused in his step.

“What are you looking at?” Shepard demanded.

“N-nothing, ma’am.”  He ripped off a salute and scurried away.

“Damn straight.”  Shepard turned back to Alenko, smirking.  “Alright, then.  What was your worst break-up, Staff Lieutenant?”

He slopped the sponge back into the bucket and wrung it out.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“C’mon.”  She grinned, impishly.  “You’ve heard mine, it’s only fair.”

“It’s not a real break-up story.  More like how I ruined my chances with a girl I really liked.”

“You gotta know that only makes me want to hear it more.”

“Maybe another time.”

“I think you’re just worried that you’re not nearly as crazy as m-“

“That instructor I killed, back in Brain Camp?  That was how.”  His voice was harsh.  He wouldn’t look at her.   “Happy?”

She was taken aback, both by the pronouncement and the venom with which it was stated.  “I guess he was a popular teacher?”

Alenko actually laughed at that, surprising her further.  “Hell, no.  He was a real bastard.  Turian and never let you forget it.  With those of us who were navy brats, he used to joke about killing our parents during the First Contact War. ‘I was at the helm of the dreadnaught that killed your father.’  That kind of crap.”

“Sounds like a real treat.”  Shepard gave him a frank look.  “Do you want to start at the beginning or should I keep asking questions?”

He threw down the sponge with more than a touch of exasperation.  “Nothing ever deters you, does it?”

“Not really, no.  It’s part of my charm.”  She gave him her very best facetious grin, and then dropped the act.  “Seriously.  I’m not trying to pry, but sometimes with you, that’s the only way to get you to talk about yourself at all.”

Alenko stared into space, long enough for her to wonder if she’d given serious offense.  Then he started speaking, slowly at first.  “Her name was Rahna.  She was in the Singapore group, same as me.  I’d known her since I was nine years old.  We grew up together.  She was… smart as hell.  Beautiful, but without the attitude.  Sweet-tempered.  Life in the program was hard for her.  She didn’t have the right disposition for it.”

Shepard considered her response.  He was so touchy that navigating any conversation on this topic felt as dark as _Fedele’s_ hold, sometimes.  “Lamai mentioned a girl named Rahna, that she would be… disappointed in your career choices.”

“She probably would.  Rahna didn’t have a violent bone in her body.”  He licked his lips, and kept washing the counter.  “There was kind of a circle that grew up around her.  She attracted friends, people who loved her.  We tried to protect her from the worst of it.  Things got really bad around the time we got the L2 implants.”

“Because of the side effects?”

“Because they were running out of time.  The oldest of us were sixteen then.  Technically, once they’d registered us and compiled dossiers on our abilities, Conatix fulfilled the legal obligations of the law that created BAaT.  They were only able to hold us at Jump Zero for years thanks to parental consent.  Detaining us after we were eighteen would require another act of Parliament, and the climate towards biotics wasn’t the same as back in 2160.”

“That’s why they censored your emails home.”  There was a small, sour coal of rage burning quietly in Shepard’s stomach.  “Conatix wanted a return on their investment.”

“Exactly.”  He let out a breath.  “So they hired special consultants.  Commander Vyrnnus was one of them.  These weren’t teachers.  They were freaking biotic mercenaries too old or volatile to keep working for the Hierarchy.  They had one instruction only- find the limits of human biotics.  More than a few kids snapped.  Some died in training accidents.  One committed suicide.”

“Why the hell would Conatix hire people like that to train teenagers?”

“Hiring anyone sane or trained would have gotten the attention of the Council.  We’d just signed the treaty granting humanity an ambassador on the Citadel.  They didn’t want their program exposed to galactic scrutiny.”

Shepard was beyond appalled.  “That’s cold.  They’d worked with you for years- all but raised you.”

“Our old instructors, maybe, but to the corporation we were never more than a commodity.”  He stared down at the counter.  “Vyrnnus was the worst.  He terrorized us, but her especially, because he saw her as a soft target.  One day, we sat down to lunch and Rahna reached for a glass of water instead of pulling it biotically.  He had a huge list of rules for everything from how to speak to how to eat.  If you think basic was regimented…”

Alenko trailed off and shook his head.  “She just wanted a damn drink without a nosebleed, you know?”

She had a terrible feeling, a bad taste in her mouth, an ache in her gut.  “What did he do to her?”

“Broke her arm.”  Alenko snapped his fingers, a sharp crack.  “Say what else you want, his fine control of mass effect fields was unparalleled.  Snapped it before anyone knew what was happening.  I still remember the sound she made, as much shock and fear as pain.  Vyrnnus laughed.”

“I’d have beat his brains in,” Shepard said, immediately, with real fervor and without thinking.  She colored faintly.  “I’m sorry.  That was… tasteless.”

“It’s alright.  That was kind of my reaction, too.”  He gave the kind of small self-deprecating laugh people use when they feel ashamed but don’t want to admit it.  “I stood up and faced him.  No idea what I was going to do, just that enough was enough.  And that was what he was waiting for.”

“He fought you?”

“He flew at me.  Completely lost his mind, assuming he ever had it in the first place, screaming that his people should’ve bombed us back to the stone age.  When I dodged his initial attack, the knife came out.  Military-grade talon right in my face.  He gave me a good cut over my eye.”  Alenko rubbed his right eyebrow, unconsciously, recalling the wound.  “I couldn’t see.  I couldn’t think.  And I was so angry… I just lost it.  I let loose a full biotic kick, right in the mandible.  Seventeen years old and I threw him so hard against the bulkhead that it left a dent in the metal.”

“And that was how he died,” she said when the pause stretched to a conversational stop, stating the obvious, a gentle prompt. Inside, however, Shepard was seething.  Knife work wasn’t her forte, but she knew enough to realize Vyrnnus hadn’t gashed his forehead deliberately.  He’d aimed for the eyes and missed.  This from a person entrusted with the care of children.  From where she stood, he was lucky to already be dead.

Alenko wouldn’t meet her gaze.  “Snapped his neck.  Maybe he could’ve lived if they got to him in time, but they didn’t.  Caused a stir with the Hierarchy when they shipped him back to Palaven.   The resulting minor international incident shut down the program.  The Alliance covered up what they could, but it was a spectacle for a few weeks there.”

“And Rahna?  You defended her.  It’s hard to see what made her mad.”

“She was horrified.  Watching someone she trusted lose control like that, kill somebody, even someone like Vyrnnus, scared the hell out of her.  She never spoke to me again.”  He hesitated for a long moment, as if debating whether to elaborate.  “After I got home, a few months later, I sent her a birthday present.  I spent three weeks picking out.  Paid the postage to Turkey which even in this day and age wasn’t easy for a jobless kid to come up with, and she sent it back stamped address unknown.  I was still naïve enough to believe you could fix that kind of broken with an artisan barrette.”

“A barrette?”

“She had shiny dark hair.  She was really proud of it.  I don’t think there was much outlet in a Jump Zero lab for teenage girls trying to feel pretty.”

“It was a sweet gesture, even if it wasn’t well-received.”

“No, it was pathetic, but it’s nice of you to say so.”  He cleared his throat and suddenly remembered the sponge in his hand, wringing it over the sink and starting to rinse the countertop.  “So there it is.  My worst break-up.”

She studied him as he worked, noting the tension in his stance, the carefully blank expression on his face and the forced lightheartedness in his tone.  “It wasn’t your fault.  You were a kid with no combat experience up against a professional who should’ve known better.”

“I know that.”  He washed out the sponge with clean water.

“I don’t think you do.”

He gave her a frosty look.  “With all due respect, ma’am, this is ancient history.”

“It’s not ancient when you still don’t trust yourself to know the difference between an enemy and a friend, or to moderate your power between a blow that kills and one that disables.”

Now he truly was offended.  “So that’s all this was about?  A wedge to get me to use my biotics more aggressively?”  


That just ticked her off.  “Of course not.  I’d like to think we’re friends.  That means I care what’s going on with you, and this one’s been riding you since we rescued Burns.  And probably a lot longer, from how you’re reacting now.”

The fight left him.  He looked chagrined.  Maybe even a little ashamed.  “I’m… I don’t… This isn’t something I talk about.  It’s not something I think about.  I’m not used to it.”

She hesitated, trying, for just once in her life, to find the right thing to say.  “You know, it kills me every time someone on this ship gets hurt.”

He tilted his head at the non-sequitur.  “Ok.  I’ll bite.”

She looked away, angry at herself that it was this hard to say it out loud.  “I don’t care if it’s Ash getting blown up or Liara getting mobbed by the press.  I hate it.  It’s personal and it never fucking matters whether it’s my fault.”

“I don’t think what happened with Vyrnnus was my fault.”  But he grimaced faintly, as if that sounded hollow even to his ears.

“Everyone’s always asking what Akuze was like.  Well, it was like this.”  She took a breath.  “The maws came up out of the mud in the middle of the night, what felt like dozens of them.  I made a split-second decision- the only way to survive was to get out of the open.  So I ran for the jungle.  I tried to rally whoever I could, and a few even tried to follow me, but it comes down to they’re dead and I’m not, and it’s because I was smart instead of loyal.  Because sometimes the right thing isn’t always the right thing.”

“That’s what I’m saying.  I need to know that when I act, it’s not only going to help someone, but it’s what they need.  Rahna didn’t need me to confront Vyrnnus.  Not like that.”

“We don’t always get to know the long run.  But we learn.  This is what I carry with me, every time I’m not quick enough or strong enough to protect the people around me.”  She shrugged.  “That one’s yours.  You can’t lie and say it doesn’t mark you, or that you wish it didn’t.  It makes us who we are.”

They worked in silence after that, both scrubbing away, up to their elbows in soap and water.  She both despised this distance between them, and appreciated that he understood it so well.  It was the only way she could survive.  It never occurred to her that other people might have the same problem.

“Why do you do this?” Alenko asked, after a minute or two.  “Poke and prod me until you get at a story?”

“It’s what I said.  I don’t have many friends, but I’d like think these are the sorts of things friends tell each other.”  She cleared her throat.  “But I’m sorry if I push too hard.  I have a tendency to offend people without realizing it.”

“I’m not offended.  Just curious.”  He was watching her closely, with a peculiar expression.

She stared down at her counter, her turn to be faintly embarrassed.  “I like hearing you talk.  When I’m speaking with you off-duty, I can be normal for a little bit, knowing when it’s back to work, you’ll treat me with exactly the same respect as before.  There aren’t that many people I can trust like that.”

Then she found a tiny smirk, and resumed rinsing away the soap.  “Besides, you pry at me just as much.  Don’t even try to pretend you don’t.”

“Well, you said it.  We’re friends, right?”  The lightness returned to his voice, momentary gravity passed.

“The kind of friends who pick each other to death?”

“My dad used to tell me if you’re not driving each other crazy, you’re doing something wrong.”

She threw her sponge at him.  It bounced off a barrier with a cascade of blue light.  “You’re going to have to do better than that.  As noted, I grew up with a bunch of biotic kids.”

So, naturally, she tossed the entire bucket.  Which caused him, covered in suds, to pick up the spray attachment for the sink.  It wasn’t long before they were both soaking wet, laughing, and had almost entirely forgotten what started the aquatic battle in the first place.


	33. The Next Big Break

Shepard stood under the shower head with her face turned up to the water, eyes shut, utterly relaxed. 

The other women preparing for the day gave her the occasional odd look- she hadn’t moved for the better part of a half hour- but she didn’t allow a little thing like that to put her off.  Her father joked that if it weren’t for hot baths, she’d never go groundside.  He could be right.  Space on ships and stations was at far too great a premium for such an extravagance.

The door to the bathroom swung open.  “Ma’am?”

Williams.  Shepard kept her attention on the feeling of water brushing her cheeks.  “What?”

There was a long pause.  “You do know they shut the hot water off after the first ten minutes?”

Hot water wasn’t in short supply aboard ship.  Time, however, often was.  The automatic VI cutoff for each user was intended to encourage steady traffic through the facilities at the busiest times, and to prevent the crew from doing exactly this- spending their whole morning allotment in the shower. 

Shepard merely smiled.  “I have the memory of hot water.”

Williams’ baffled expression caught her eye.  Clearly, she was wondering whether her commanding officer stayed too long at the fair.  Shepard sighed, turning away from the showerhead and laying her arms on the partition, flicking her hair out of her face.  “What do you need?”

“Liara and Garrus are looking for you, ma’am.  Also, the X.O. wants to discuss our course again.”

“If the former has good news for me, it’ll make the latter happier.”  She shut off the tap at last and wrapped a towel around herself.  Walking to the mirror, she started pinning up her bun.  “Think I can avoid Pressly for another thirty minutes or so?”

There was no reply.  Shepard shot a querulous glance over her shoulder, smirking.  “You’re not really going to give me a hard time about the only twenty minutes I’m likely to have to myself today?”

Williams’ mouth was hanging open.  She closed it abruptly.  “Sorry, ma’am.”

But she continued to stare, and not at Shepard’s face.  The commander frowned and twisted until she found the source of her attention.  “Oh, that.  I got a little shot.”

“That… scar doesn’t look like a little anything, ma’am.”  Williams swallowed.

“It was at close range.”  That mistake destroyed her shoulder.  Even with the magic of state-of-the-art medical care, she’d fidgeted, complained, and all but tore her hair out behind a desk for almost five months waiting for the bone implants to grow in and the muscle to strengthen.  Even the broken femur took less time to heal.

“You were shot in the back at close range.”  The implication was obvious.  Williams’ eyebrows were in danger of colliding with her hairline.

“Yeah.”  Then she added, philosophically, “On the other hand, it obliterated a rather awful tattoo.  Never get blackout drunk down in the wards.”

“They can do something about scars, you know.”

Shepard turned back to the mirror.  “Trying to erase the past is a sign of self-delusion.  It’s ugly, but it’s mine and we’re stuck with each other.  Let Garrus and Liara know I’m on my way.”

Williams knew a dismissal when she heard it.  “Yes, ma’am.”

Shepard finished cleaning up, pulled on a set of utilities, and went to find their resident turian and asari.

Liara and Garrus were holed up the entire way from Artemis Tau to the Alliance facility where they deposited the _Fedele_ personnel- patients, engineers, vorcha, the whole lot.  Shepard was grateful sorting out that mess was somebody else’s problem.  Dahlia’s remaining crew were silent for the duration of the cruise, refusing to answer questions once the immediate danger was past.  No doubt they were thinking to their futures- especially once they learned the Citadel was not their destination.  Being members of the council races bought a lot of special consideration so long as they remained within the scope of their direct influence.  The Systems Alliance wouldn’t treat asari different from any other potential foreign threat.

Garrus was trying to piece together his files on Saren with Liara’s information on Benezia.  So far, there were few points of commonality.  There was nothing to suggest why an asari matriarch would show so much interest in a turian spectre.  Shepard wondered briefly if there was something more between them, but Liara was adamant Benezia’s tastes ran a different direction.

But Shiala’s declaration that Benezia was aware of his activities and wanted to steer him towards the light, as it were, was equally baffling.  Why would she choose to go undercover instead of bringing it to the attention of the Council?  From what Shepard read of Benezia’s past, the matriarch was a significant player in Thessian politics.

She found the pair in Liara’s lab, datapads, holos, and other documents scattered across her desk.  On the wall was a two-dimensional web of evidence not unlike Shepard’s 3D counterpart in the mental space she had shared with Liara.  The nightmares continued unabated, but their bite faded into a familiar horror over time.  Mostly, now, they merely reminded her of how far the still had to go.  It was amazing what could become normal.

Shepard began without preamble.  “Chief Williams said you needed to see me?”

“Commander.”  Liara smiled.  “We may have something.  It’s tenuous, but…”

“Show me.” 

Garrus rose and gestured towards the wall.  “Our early mistake was in focusing on their political careers.  Not much overlap there.  But then I remembered something you said.”

She snorted.  “What was that?”

“When you complained about your poverty.”  He smirked.  “Saren is a wealthy man.  And one of those things you learn in police work is that money often not only talks, but screams at the top of its lungs.”

He tapped at a datapad.  The display projected on the wall changed.  Shepard strayed closer, rubbing her chin, as he explained the new data.  “So instead of his political connections, we started looking at his commercial interests, along with Benezia’s.”

“My mother holds advisory positions in a number of corporate enterprises.  They valued her insight and her influence with various governments.”  Liara paused, licked her lips.  “It always made us very… comfortable, but as a child I never knew the details.  And after so many years with little contact I’m certain what I did know is no longer in date.”

“I hope you’re not about to tell me you called mom up on the comm.”

Liara was affronted.  “Of course not.  I did, however, put out a few feelers with the staff she left on Thessia.  Anyone who wasn’t trusted enough to follow along when she went to Saren would not have been informed of her plan.”

Shepard was dubious.  “And they just gave up the information, no questions asked?  They had to know you and Benezia were on the ropes.”

“That her only daughter would not speak to her while the rest of the asari fell at her feet was an embarrassment.  She didn’t wish it to become public knowledge.  You examined her public profiles yourself and had no idea until we met.”

The explanation was passable.  “Still a hell of a risk.  I hope none of her people are sending her updates.”

“I doubt it.  Shiala indicated my mother is… indoctrinated, somehow.  When she left, in her true frame of mind, she would not have wanted to endanger her staff.”  Liara turned her attention back to the board.  “I got a list of companies.  One of them is Binary Helix.”

Binary Helix was a well-known genetic and bio-engineering firm.  Their controversial research drove them into the Traverse around the same time the Alliance started establishing colonies in earnest.  Plenty of people still felt conflicted about any genetic modification of human beings, much less those that were less necessary and more cosmetic, or pushed the boundaries of what one could define as naturally human. 

Shepard turned to Garrus.  “Please tell me we have a match.”

“Their board of directors lists Saren Arterius as a member for the last five years.  He’s a key investor.”  Garrus brimmed with smug self-satisfaction.  “But it gets better.  I called in a favor with a friend in C-Sec to pull their public filings.  Matriarch Benezia was recently added to corporate roster as an ‘executive secretary’, whatever that means, but more importantly she was designated as Saren’s executor.”

“So… she can manage his stake in Binary Helix on his behalf, and vote in his stead on the board?”

“Essentially.”

“Alright.”  Shepard chewed that over.  “So Saren trusts her, or trusts whatever voodoo job he’s done on her head.  This still doesn’t tell us where to look.”

“I thought of that.”  Liara entered a few commands into her terminal.  The holo projection now displayed a system in the Horsehead Nebula.  “I drew up a list of all their facilities, and interpolated that with our other findings.  It led me here, Noveria.”

“It looks like a wasteland.”  The data from the computer indicated it possessed a nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere, on the very edges of the Pax System’s green zone.  Most of the planet was frozen over.  The only settlement, Port Hanshan, was located in the heart of a glacier-bound mountain range deep in the southern hemisphere.

Liara shrugged.  “It’s perfect for what they’re trying to do.  Noveria is a private world, funded by a consortium of two dozen research firms, mostly biotech.  They’ve built elaborate labs within the mountains- easy to contain if something got loose.  Few organisms can survive the cold and the labs are very isolated from one another.”

Shepard sat back on her heels.  “Not to mention from the rest of the galaxy.  I bet this ‘Noveria Development Corporation’ hosts a lot of questionable projects away from prying eyes.”

Garrus gave her a sidelong glance.  “Nobody was happier than the criminals and nutcases when your Alliance began settling the Traverse.  A whole realm of remote space unregulated by the Citadel, with the human navy to buffer them from the Terminus?  They were all but dancing.”

“It’s not our fault the Council didn’t want to pour any resources into colonizing their problem areas,” she remarked lightly, prodding him with good humor.

“And I’m sure if the Council wanted to exercise oversight, the Alliance would have welcomed the scrutiny with open arms.”  His mandible twitched.

Shepard laughed.

“If we could return to the point,” Liara interrupted, with a hint of impatience.  “Aren’t you the least bit curious why the search was narrowed to Noveria?”

She raised an eyebrow.  “Only if it’s interesting.”

Garrus’ mirth died.  “This is where we need a little of your help, Shepard.”

Liara tabbed to the next screen.  “We ran some forensics on this message.”

Staring back at her was the Cerberus email from Feros.  She rubbed her mouth and shook her head.  “Fuck.  Ok, you’d better start the beginning.”

It turned out to be more straightforward than she feared.  They traced the email based on its originating address and sender, Dr. Cynthia Wayne.  That information, courtesy of a little grease from Liara’s scientific contacts and Garrus’ C-Sec connections, yielded additional intel, including a personal dossier and shipment logs.  Shepard examined them with increasing confusion.  “They’re collecting tissue samples and specimens from obscure worlds all over the Traverse.”

“Yes.”  Liara folded her arms and leaned back against the counter.  “Logically, one would expect the final destination for all these shipments to be the same, but we’ve been unable to identify it.  They’ve laundered it well.”

Shepard flipped to Wayne’s dossier.  It showed a smiling blonde, heavy set, with her hair cut into a rather drab bob.  “She’s ex-Alliance.”

Garrus cocked his head.  “That surprises you?”

“No.  Anderson mentioned something about Cerberus recruitment tactics.”  She paged through the file.  Her frown deepened.  “She was the senior medical officer assigned to the 106th Marine Division.”

“What does that mean?”

She shook her head.  “Doesn’t mean anything.  I deployed with a platoon of the 106th on Akuze.”

Liara leaned in, reading over her shoulder.  “You knew her?”

“No.  I wasn’t assigned to that unit.  They dropped in special forces to lead the op.  The guys hated us for it, they always do.  You learn not to mind.  Wayne didn’t deploy with us.”  She flipped to the next section.  “And she was an advisor on the Ascension Project until she was discharged a year ago.”

Garrus had an excellent memory.  “One of the biotic terrorists mentioned that program.  What is it?”

“A school for human biotic children.  It replaced that crazy-ass science lab Kaidan and the very angry woman we picked up got thrown into, but it’s less clinical and more educational.  Completely transparent to public scrutiny.”

He folded his arms.  “She also mentioned students were disappearing from it.”

“Hackett denied that.  Said sometimes people just fall off the radar, which is true enough.”  Shepard chewed her lip, staring at the holo.  At the time, she accepted his explanation at face value.  But now she could feel a hint of doubt creeping in. 

Liara summarized the feeling succinctly.  “I think perhaps you should ask him again.”

“I will.”  There was a flat quality to the words.  Shepard didn’t like being kept in the dark.  Somebody was actively concealing intel from her, intel that appeared increasingly relevant to her case.  What was so dirty that the Alliance didn’t want her to find it? 

Liara touched her arm, tentative.  “Shepard?”

With visible effort, she smoothed her scowl, and cleared her throat.  “I take it one of these Cerberus shipments originated from Noveria?”

“From a Binary Helix hot lab,” Garrus confirmed.

Shepard let it marinate a few long moments, then nodded, tossing the datapad aside.  “Well, what are we waiting for?”

Garrus and Liara exchanged a broad smile.  Shepard paused at the hatch.  “Keep working this.  Anything else you can get me before we hit Port Hanshan will be helpful.  Nice job.  Very nice.”

She left them to it and went in search of her cranky executive officer. 

In the months since they met, Navigator Pressly hadn’t exactly warmed to his new C.O.  He was too disciplined to ever offer back-talk, but she could see him thinking it, every other order she gave.  There was a palpable air of disapproval whenever they were in proximity to each other.  And while he wasn’t the type to spout off in public, everyone needed to vent their frustrations eventually, and a little of his hot air made it back to her ears.  Shepard let it go.  It was going to take more than a few jabs privately spoken to ruffle her.  As long as he kept following her orders, she couldn’t care less what he thought.

Those facts didn’t stop her from wishing her CIC was a little more comfortable, every now and then.  Shepard stepped up to the galaxy map and pulled up the Horsehead Nebula to trace out the relay route.

Pressly soon took note of her plans.  “Noveria, ma’am?”

“There’s a connection between Saren, Benezia, and all these strange things we keep encountering waiting down on this rock.  We need to check it out.”

“Understood.”  He pushed his fingers against the haptic keys of his terminal.  “We should arrive in… eight days, ten if we’re unlucky.”

“Worried about relay priority queuing?”  In a few systems, convincing the controllers to move them to the head of the line proved problematic.

“It gets less and less likely now that people are getting to know you.”  Pressly bent over his work.

Shepard let him work a few moments, glancing at him sidelong.  “I know this isn’t what you signed on for.”

He didn’t look up.  “Pardon, ma’am?”

“You agreed to this posting because Anderson asked you.  You served with him aboard the _SSV Tokyo_ , right?”

“Heh.”  He shook his head.  “You have a good memory, Commander.  We were two years together on that boat, along with Lieutenant Adams.”

“That was a cruiser.  Lots of heavy fighting, not so much recon.”

“No, ma’am.”  Pressly chuckled a bit.  “Hadn’t been on a frigate since… never been on a frigate, come to think of it, not for more than a day anyhow.”

“You never signed up to be ordered around by some hotshot, hot-headed commander young enough to be your daughter.”

He did look up at that, startled by her candor, and met her eyes.  “I never said that, ma’am, never.”

“I know.  And I appreciate that.”  She returned his gaze steadily.  “I’m the biggest thing to happen to the Systems Alliance since Jon Grissom went through the relay.  I’m moving the direction of a war that may well determine our right to exist within this territory.  Straight up, Pressly, chain of command or no if I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here.  You’re doing excellent work.”

“The fact that sometimes you actually seem to believe that stream of pure news vid bullshit scares the hell out of me, ma’am.”  He spoke before his brain was able to intervene.  As the words caught up with him, the blood drained from his face.

Shepard chuckled and shook her head.  “And the fact that I have to goad you that hard to make you speak your mind scares the hell out of me.  I’m not Anderson.  I don’t have years of ship command overlaying my spec ops service to adjust my instincts to a wider dynamic range.  You want my attention, sometimes you need to get in my face.  I’m tuned to discard pretty much everything else.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“Good.”  She finished entering her commands, and took a shot in the dark.  “I don’t suppose you know anything about a terrorist organization calling themselves Cerberus?”

“Never heard of them.”

“It’s alright.  Up until a few months ago, I never did either.”

“Wait.”  Pressly stared into space, speaking slowly.  “I got an email once.  It was strange.  I reported it right away, of course, but the phrasing was very odd.  The author talked about a three-headed dog and guarding the gates to the future.  Cult stuff.  It got intelligence excited, I’ll say that.  My ship had to set back down so they could depose me for a day or two.  Never did figure out what all the fuss was about.”

“Cerberus was a three-headed dog that stood guard over the gates to the underworld, in Greek mythology.  Each of its three heads supposedly looked to past, present, and future.”  She felt a cold knot form her stomach.  “Could have been a recruitment attempt.  Sounds like you dodged a bullet.”

She caught him by surprise.  “You know mythology, ma’am?”

“I majored in philosophy.  Very old, very dead Greeks featured rather prominently.”  She fussed with her instruments, trying to hide her faint embarrassment.

“Philosophy?”  He sounded like he’d just swallowed a fly.

“They told me I needed to go to college to become an officer, and it seemed the least likely thing to take me out of a combat role,” she muttered.  It was exactly the sort of decision that seemed devastatingly clever when she was nineteen- finding a loophole in the requirements- and beyond childish now.  “And it’s easier to write lots of papers with semi-fluid deadlines from a starship bunk than complete more demanding projects.”

“You selected your field of study because it was easy and useless?”

“My field of study is what I do every day,” she replied hotly.  “And it wasn’t like that.  I was trying to… game the system, a little bit.  It’s stupid that you need a degree for something that has nothing to do with traditional education.”

He snorted disbelief.  “How someone as rebellious as you winds up in the military defies belief.”

“Thank my mother.”  She logged off.  “Eight days?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Plenty of time to get ready, then.”  She nodded and turned to go.  “Carry on, Pressly.”

The remainder of the crew were excited to see some real progress made- finally.  The high from their success on Feros began to fade in the face of weeks of side trips and dead ends.  There was a new energy about the ship as everyone turned their attention to preparations for Noveria.

Shepard finished giving orders to her top-level people and spent the afternoon examining every piece of information on Port Hanshan and NDC she could lay her hands on.  Prior overtures from the Citadel and the Systems Alliance were both politely, if coldly, rebuffed.  Their investment firms didn’t want anybody offering oversight on their work.  It left a sour feeling in Shepard’s gut.  Binary Helix could be doing anything up in those mountains.  Illegal genemods would require human testing- or whatever relevant species- at some point in the trials.  At that might be only the beginning.

_Why do we let this happen?  The Systems Alliance defends this territory.  They should be subject to our laws._   She knew the reasons, of course.  Each colony was quasi-independent, and the privately funded ones even more so.  The Alliance didn’t have the personnel, ships, or resources to enforce their regulations this far out into the Traverse, and less palatably, they liked the enrichment turning a blind eye brought to their economy.  Successful companies brought in good tax money.

However, it seemed unlikely Port Hanshan would refuse docking clearance to a spectre.  NDC’s position was tenuous.  They wouldn’t provoke the Citadel to take a more active interest in their enterprise by interfering overtly with her mission.  NDC would realize any involvement of Binary Helix in colonial attacks was beyond their ability to successfully conceal while maintaining their cozy independence.  So they’d let her land, conduct her investigation, and show her the door as quickly as possible.  That didn’t mean they’d enjoy it, or wouldn’t exploit every opportunity to subtly undermine her work.

Specialist Lowe interrupted her internal strategizing.  “Ma’am, it’s just past 0900 hours GST.  You asked to be informed.”

“Thanks.”  The Galactic Standard Time of the Citadel and the Terran Universal of Alliance ships were sufficiently different that their two daily calendars precessed slowly about one another.  Shepard needed to brief Anderson on their new plan and see if Udina could do anything to grease the wheels for them on Noveria.

She got up and headed aft.  “Get me the ambassador’s office on the comm.”

“The comm’s in use, Commander.  Chief Williams reserved the time.”  The crew mainly communicated with their families back home via email and vid messages.  However, they were given an allotment of minutes each month for making live calls.  Standard navy procedure.  “Should I inform her there is a higher-priority message?”

“No, I’ll kick her off.  Let her be pissed at me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  There was a hint of relief in the specialist’s tone.

When she reached the hatch, however, she found Chief Williams’ voice, though muffled, still came clearly through the door.  It held undercurrents of amusement.  “Oh, Sarah, you didn’t.”

“You should talk.”  There was giggling.  ‘Sarah’ sounded a good bit younger than Ash.  “I saw Lieutenant Alenko on the news vids.  He’s cute.  I’m jealous.”

Ash snorted.  “Of what?”

Her tone became more arch, teasing.  “Must make life more interesting, serving under a hot-”

“Oh come on,” Ash groaned.  “This is serious, not some kind of bad movie.  There are regs against this crap.”  Then she sighed and dropped the lecture.  “Anyway, when the commander’s in the room, I think he forgets other women exist.  The poor guy has got it bad.”

Shepard’s heart gave a small and thoroughly unexpected jump in her chest, utterly gobsmacked. 

Sarah snickered.  “You go to all this effort to make a ship posting seem so stuffy.  It’s not working.  Badass spectres, sexy lieutenants, half-machine turian bad guys…”

“Alright, when you put it like that, it does sort of sound like b-roll from a late night vid.  But it’s not- I shouldn’t have said anything.  What is or is not going on between officers is waaaay above an NCO’s paygrade.”

Shepard put her hand to her mouth and tried to swallow her sudden flush and the accompanying quick silly grin.  There was more muffled laughter, and a following exchange too low for her to hear.  She drew in a breath- enough was enough- cleared her throat, and tagged open the hatch, a carefully neutral expression fixed on her face.

Williams came to attention immediately, her face bright red.  “Uh, Commander, ma’am- I didn’t, uh, see you there.”

Shepard gave her best withering look.  “Calling home, Chief?”

She was mortified.  “Tell me you did not just hear that.”

“Afraid so.”  Shepard’s tone was dry enough to shrivel sand.

The laughter from the comm was uproarious.  Sarah managed to catch a breath and choke out, “Later, sis” before the link went dead.

“My youngest sister, Sarah.”  Williams swallowed and glanced between the comm and her C.O.  “Can we just pretend this never happened?”

“Works for me.”  Shepard jerked her thumb at the hatch.  “I need to update Anderson, so skidaddle.”

Williams saluted.  “Yes, ma’am!”

The chief hightailed it out of the comm room like her ass was on fire.  Shepard managed to maintain her austerity until the hatch shut, but only just, that foolish grin reasserting itself almost as soon as Ash’s back was turned.  She flexed her fingers around the railing and tried to recover her composure.  It was surprisingly challenging while her inner fourteen-year-old jumped up and down, executing three sixty spins between her boots touching the ground.

Lowe’s voice crackled into the cabin.  “Chief Williams just walked by, ma’am.  Should I connect the transmission?”

“Give me a moment.” 

“Very well.”  


Shepard looked up at the blank holo screen, at her reflection in the glass, and addressed it sternly.  “Stop smiling.  You are a professional.”

The admonition didn’t do much to kill the fizzy feeling in her stomach.  She attempted reason.  It was only more scuttlebutt.  People had been bored since Feros, Williams especially.  That was why Shepard took her aboard the Fedele- to get the fidgets out.  Ash was inventing drama to amuse herself.

But if she wasn’t…

Shepard cut off that thought before it could get going again.  It wasn’t an idea she’d allowed herself to entertain for longer than a few minutes here and there, wistfully.  Leaving aside the complications with the UCMJ and the fact that she didn’t have the energy to fight Saren, geth, the Council, and her own superiors all at the same time, it wasn’t her experience that stable people sought out unstable people.  Alenko was capable enough to have his pick of career tracks and he’d selected just about the most mundane combat option possible- a marine officer serving on serial extended deployments.  He wanted that.  She’d jumped into N1 and a life utterly lacking in predictability and never looked back.  At least, not until the last year or so.

It just wasn’t possible that she could be the type of person he would feel that way about in reality and not just idle fantasy.  The notion was warm and fragile in her mind, like if she considered it too intently it would fracture into dust. 

Lowe interrupted her thoughts again, with a touch of impatient concern.  “Ma’am?  I’m ready to initiate the transmission at any time.”

There were calls to navigate, plans to lay, a mission to complete.  Shepard wasn’t permitted the luxury of distraction.  Or daydreams.  Even rather nice ones.

Ash was imagining things _,_ she told herself firmly.  It didn’t work.  Anderson was just going to have to live with the damn stupid grin.  She could blame it on the breakthrough in their investigation.  “Do it.”

The call went on for more than three hours, and quickly cooled any sense of excitement.  Shepard explained recent developments to Anderson and the ambassador, quietly leaving out the Cerberus connection.  If the captain didn’t want her exploring that alley she wasn’t quite stupid enough to walk down it right under his nose. 

Noveria Development Corporation and Binary Helix were both incorporated in the Systems Alliance, and Udina got one of his old friends from Arcturus to send over their records.  There wasn’t much new information on genetics firm.  It confirmed Saren’s position within the company, though there was no listing for Benezia, and the only recent news of any interest was a settlement paid by the company to a private collective of krogan investors for failure to deliver results on a study of potential solutions to the genophage.  Shepard filed that away, recalling the unexplained krogan presence on worlds occupied by Saren’s forces.

The dossier on NDC was more interesting.  Day-to-day operations groundside were overseen by a salarian administrator, Anoleis, but the company as a whole was run by an executive board whose members were not public.  Udina guessed that they were likely appointed by each of the two dozen corporations fronting capital to the labs.  Shepard had no reason to disagree. 

According to him, the administrator enjoyed near-absolute authority on the site and was traditionally susceptible to bribery.  Anderson was quick to remind her that the Alliance could not supply funding for such a purpose.  Shepard remembered her cynical reaction to her research into the finances of her fellow spectres with a touch of chagrin.  They mostly operated independently; sitting on the deck of a high-tech warship, she never considered what that might mean in terms of resources.  Still, Anoleis might have other levers she could pull, ones not based on a small mountain of credits.  Udina promised to look into it over the next few days.

In the end, they favored a surprise visit.  They lacked an inside track on Binary Helix or NDC, and had much more to gain by putting them off-balance when a spectre landed on their doorstep wielding serious allegations of criminal activity.  That was more Shepard’s style.  She laughed when Udina sourly requested she try to restrain herself while on Noveria.  Shooting executives, he explained, would reflect poorly on humanity.

After the transmission terminated, she thought for a few minutes, debating with herself, before asking Lowe to contact Hackett’s office.  To her astonishment, he actually took the call, though she did have to wait thirty minutes before he appeared on _Normandy’s_ vid comm.  “Commander Shepard.”

“Admiral.”  She saluted.  “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“I hope whatever you have to say is important enough to cause an interruption,” he said dryly, returning the salute.

She dropped the feeble attempts at diplomacy.  Directness suited her better anyway.  “We’ve identified a connection between Saren Arterius and the human terrorist group known as Cerberus.  I need access to those files but I’m getting stonewalled through other channels.”

Hackett regarded her a long moment.  His gaze truly was intimidating, if she was the sort of person susceptible to those tactics.  As it was, she marked him as the kind of superior officer who didn’t suffer fools and would make you pay for any bullshit.  “Explain this connection.”

It took her a few minutes to lay out their findings.  “It’s pervasive, sir.  Everywhere we find Saren, we find Cerberus.”

He seemed conflicted.  “I see where you’re coming from, Commander, but I’m not convinced granting you access is in anyone’s best interests.”

“May I ask what led you to that conclusion, sir?”

Hackett sidestepped the question.  “I can have my people comb the data for relevant intelligence.  There’s twenty six years of reports.  I don’t want you getting bogged down in minutia.”

Shepard stared.  “What is in those files so awful nobody wants me to see it?”

“Those files are extraordinarily sensitive and you don’t need to know everything that’s in them.”  Hackett’s hands clasped behind his back, standing easy.  “Was there anything else you needed to discuss, Commander?” 

That was a dismissal.  It rankled, but she could tell she’d reached the limits of his generosity.  The knowledge did nothing to keep the resentment from her eyes.

“No, sir,” she said curtly.

“Good luck.  We’re counting on you to bring this bastard down.”  He reached forward to end the call.  “Hackett out.”

Silence filled the comm room.  Shepard licked her lips and rapped her knuckles against the rail once, before turning on her heel and making her was down to engineering.

As the elevator descended, she couldn’t escape the feeling that even thinking about what she intended to do was a damning indication of how much the spectre appointment had already changed her.  But another, and louder, voice declared that Shepard had never allowed her superiors to get in the way of fulfilling her duty- she’d just never had anyone on her team to whom the words “illegal orders” did not apply.

She found the quarian far aft, interfacing directly with the drive core.  The data feeds on her screen might as well have been Sanskrit for all Shepard could derive their meaning.  Tali turned, brightly, her posture pleased.  “Shepard.  What brings you down here?”

They had to talk loudly over the throbbing bass of the Tantalus drive.  Just as well; this wasn’t a conversation Shepard wanted overheard.  She leaned towards her.  “Just how good with a computer are you, Tali’Zorah?”

“I’ve only been tinkering with any tech I could get my hands on since I learned how to read.”  She tilted her head.  “Why?”

Shepard took a breath and made up her mind.  “Because I need someone who can hack into a secured database on Arcturus for me.”

Several blinks, in rapid succession, behind the mask.  Slowly, she asked, “Won’t that get you into a lot of trouble with your government?”

“That’s why we’re not going to get caught.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard’s tongue flashed between her teeth as she considered the cards approximately five centimeters from her nose.  “I’ll raise you five.”

She tossed the chit to the center of the mess table.  Joker shook his head.  “You’re going to live to regret that, ma’am.  Called.”

Liara shuffled her cards nervously.  “What does that mean again?”

Alenko, who had good-naturedly sat out the first several hands to help her learn the rules, patiently repeated, “Put a marker for five credits in the pot if you want to keep playing.”

“Oh, right.”  She tentatively picked out the appropriate chit and pushed it forward.

“Don’t asari gamble?” an incredulous Williams asked.

“Not so… ritualistically.”

“Are we here to play or gab?” Joker complained.

“Called,” Alenko said, not bothering to glance at his cards lying face-down on the table.  Shepard noticed he hardly ever did the first round, and also that Liara tended to win the hands he assisted, and wondered if he’d been slightly more serious than she assumed when he joked he was a better liar during a card game.

Shepard had decided that even if Williams was right about his feelings towards her- and that still seemed a big if- the best thing was to ignore it.  What else was she supposed to do?  She was the C.O. and it was a small ship.  Even if the question was starting to get under her skin.  She felt nervous as a girl, hyper-aware of every move he made.  There was a kind of exhilaration in watching, and almost as much anxiety.  It was driving her crazy. 

So here she was, studiously ignorant, disguising the occasional nonchalant peek over the top of her cards.

Williams, on the other hand, couldn’t stop playing with her cards, stacking them up, fanning them back out, tapping them on the table.  She studied them again and groaned irritation.  “Fold.”

Wrex, his hands almost comically large around the human-sized deck, grunted.  “Called.”

“Raise is called,” Joker said, reaching for the deck and beginning to dole out additional cards.  Shepard discarded two and added the replacements to her hand, considering the new possibilities.

Williams slouched in her seat, her thumbs hooked through her belt.  “So what do you think we’re going to find on Noveria, ma’am?”

“Dunno.”  They were on the last leg of their relay transit.  In sixteen hours, give-or-take, they should be entering Noverian airspace.  “A corporate shitshow, I expect.”

Wrex grinned.  “Maybe it’ll be overrun with geth, like the last place.”  He sounded excited by the possibility.

Williams shared his enthusiasm.  “I can always stand a little more target practice.”

Shepard didn’t think it likely, but didn’t want to get drawn into another bull session on their upcoming visit, either.  “Check.”

Joker eyed his cards.  “Check.”

“Check,” Liara said, after a moment’s consideration.  “Do you think Tali might be right, about the possibility of geth individuality?  That they’re not clones of each other?”

Shepard kept her attention on the game.  “Don’t know, don’t care.”

“You don’t think it’s an interesting question?”  Alenko turned up the corners of his hand, just enough to see, and tossed a twenty-credit chit into the pot.  “Raise.”

“Called.”  She was sardonic.  “I think it’s a question for people who aren’t in the middle of a war with them.  It doesn’t matter if they’re individuals, or sentient, or eat extranet data reports like we eat peanut butter sandwiches.  They’re our adversary.  That’s all I need to know.”

“Damn straight.”  Williams reached for her drink.  There was no alcohol on the ship, but lately the crew had gotten quite creative mixing various juices and flavorings available in the mess.

“Yeah,” Joker said.  “It’s not like they have… souls, or anything.”

Shepard glanced at him.  “You ever meet an AI?”

“How can you meet something that’s not alive?” he protested.  “Oh, and fold.  You guys obviously know something I don’t about this hand.”

“I met one,” she continued steadily.  “Three years ago.  Do you remember the training accident on Luna Base?”

Alenko’s interest piqued.  “The one that killed twenty marines and nine support staff?”

“It wasn’t a training accident.  Not as such.  They’d evolved a carefully leashed AI from the Hannibal Defense Simulator running the exercise.  I think they were trying to exploit the gray area between VI limitations and full synthetic self-awareness, but lost control.  When it stopped responding to their commands and fired on the trainees, they sent in a strike team under my command.”  She fastidiously arranged her cards in numeric order.  “I have never heard any being, of any species, so full of rage as when we shut down Hannibal’s final server.”

Joker raised his eyebrows.  “Rage, Commander?  Emotion?  Sounds sketchy.”

“I know what I heard.  I don’t know whether it had a soul and I don’t know if it was anything like you or me, but it sure as hell was alive enough to feel that.” 

“That’s heresy,” Ash said flatly.  “Machines aren’t alive.  Period.”

Liara laid her cards down on the table, a silent fold.  “My university had a registered artificial intelligence, used by the math department.  I never heard any of the faculty speak of it as though it possessed any emotion.  But humans are often volatile, so perhaps your programming style is more colorful as well.”

She caught the dubious stares of the four humans sitting at the table and blushed, ducking her head.

Wrex rumbled, “I guess it’s a good thing krogan don’t mess around with AI.”

“You may have a point there.”  Shepard chuckled despite herself, remembering the krogan mercenary fighting with the VI back on Feros.  She raised her eyebrows at him.  “Call or fold?”

He grunted and tossed a chit onto the pile.

Joker looked around the table.  “Show ‘em, folks.”

Wrex set down three sixes.  Alenko managed to put together a low-value straight.  Shepard rolled her eyes and dropped her cards with a certain amount of disdain.

Alenko raised an eyebrow.  “You called on a pair of sevens?”

“I thought you were bluffing,” she replied, a bit put out.  “It was a big raise.”

“We hadn’t had one for a while.  The game was starting to get boring.”

“What happened to strategy?” she groused.

“This is chicken stakes, not tournament play.  It’s not like I can’t start over every round.”  He gathered in his winnings with candid amusement.  “I think you’re just annoyed because dangling a challenge in front of you is like tossing a bone to a varren.  You leap every time.”

“That’s not it at all,” she protested, though she was somewhat drowned out by the snickering of the rest of the table.  “Is it?”

“No comment, ma’am.”  Williams didn’t bother to disguise her sly grin as she passed her cards back to Joker, who started to shuffle. 

She turned to the pilot.  “Joker?”

He cleared his throat and acted like he hadn’t heard the question.  Liara remarked, with delicacy, “You do have a certain inclination to rash behavior in the face of immediate conflict.”

Williams was more blunt.  “You don’t choose fight _or_ flight.  You choose whatever makes the biggest splash.”

She turned back to Alenko.  “And you’re comfortable using that against me?”

“I go through whatever door’s available.”  He smirked.  “You’re the one complaining I wasn’t using a proper strategy.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “That’s _sneaky_.”

“I rather thought you’d approve of sneaky,” he said airily, unconcerned.

“Save it for the next round.”  Joker dealt out the cards, and after a quick examination, started things off with a ten-credit bet. 

“Oh, believe me, I will,” Shepard muttered, staring critically at her hand. 

The following hand didn’t take long.  She never got her opportunity for revenge; Liara started to fold once more, but Alenko opted out instead to offer encouragement.  The asari’s analytical skills made her a decent player, for a newcomer, but she sorely lacked any confidence in her skills.  Wrex was out in the first round, disgusted with his hand and growing frustrated with the “fiddly game”, and Joker followed in the second round.  Shepard managed to put together a slightly stronger hand than last time, enough to beat Liara’s two pair, but Williams managed to come from behind and wipe them both out with a full house.

She beamed at their surprise.  “My sisters and I used to play all the time.  It’s hard getting to know other kids when you get a new posting every year.”

“I hear that,” Shepard said, intimately familiar with life as a navy brat.  “Your dad teach you how to play?”

“You guessed it.  He was better though.”  She incorporated her additional chits into the almost neurotically precise stacks arrayed before her.  Apparently, she was stricter with money than she was with any other of her possessions, which had been found scattered across the ship.  “I like to think he smiles a bit when he sees me win a hand.”

Shepard gave her a sidelong glance.  “I thought your father passed away.”

Williams sighed in exasperation.  “Not watching me, watching me.  Like from heaven.”

“Ah,” said Shepard, who had known, and also known better than to ask.  It was like Christmas with her family.  Smile and nod and play along and maybe the crazy wouldn’t stick to you.

“How does that work?”  Joker, who did not know, pulled a face.  “Is this always-on surveillance, or selective?  Like when you’re with a boyfr- ow!”

Shepard wiped the oil from the hair on the back of his head off her palm onto his shirt.  “Two things you never talk about while playing cards.  Religion and politics.”

“Unless we’re trashing Udina, right?  That’s still ok?”  Joker shook his head.  “’Cause if I have to stop telling bullfrog jokes I need to seriously rethink my misdirection strategy.”

He dealt again.  Liara called the bet, as did the others in a quick whip around the table.  Everyone discarded and contemplated the second round.  Williams peered over the top her cards, as if daring her to say something, and drawled, “You look uncomfortable, ma’am.  Does it bother you that I believe in god?”

“Not so long as it doesn’t bother you that I don’t,” she retorted without looking up.

“I’m surprised you of all people don’t believe there’s something greater out there, after everything you’ve seen.”

“That’s exactly what convinces me there isn’t.  Anyone who would deliberately set out to make a world that runs like this is far too fucked up to be the master of creation.”

Ash was taken aback.  “There’s no need to be intolerant.”

She made a tching sound, and dragged her dog tags over her head, tossing them to Chief Williams.  “Catch.”

Williams snagged them out of the air and turned them over until she could see the writing properly.  “Shepard N. Z.  Service number blah blah SAN, blood type O negative- really?  Isn’t that ultra-rare?”

“Keep reading.”

“Medical category 1, religion-“ She paused, and frowned, surprised.  “Catholic?”

“Family tradition, both sides.  If it’s going to make it easier on my parents when I die to have an old man say some magic words over my body, why should that bother me?”  She shrugged.  “I’m not intolerant.  I just don’t think respecting your beliefs requires silence about mine.”

“You people argue about pointless things,” Wrex interjected, scoffing.  “Anyone can sing for the honored dead- friends, enemies, it doesn’t matter.  And if they’re not worthy of honor, who cares?”

Shepard smiled.  “I knew there was something I liked about you.”

Williams appealed to the rest of the table.  “C’mon, someone back me up here.”

Alenko and Joker exchanged a panicked glance.  Joker won.  Alenko took a breath and blew it out, and replied succinctly.  “I’m with Shepard on this one.  Some topics were designed to make friends hate each other.”

“I’ll raise,” Joker followed, laying down a chit in an attempt to get back to the game.

Liara’s brow scrunched up.  “I didn’t think it was your turn.  Did I lose track?”

“It’s not, but does anyone really care?”

“Called,” Shepard said immediately.

“Called.”  Alenko added his token to the pile.

Williams, however, was not quite ready to let it go.  “So how do you explain it, if there’s no force behind it, no plan?  The randomness of everything?”

Shepard ordered the cards in her hand.  “There’s a theory of psychiatry that states that personalities, self-awareness, is a series of complex standing quantum waves.  We go out into the universe and our waves touch other waves, and in the froth of that interference lies how we paint our experiences- love, anger, hope, grief.  Afterwards, the wave is literally not physically identical to how it was before, and that’s how we grow.”

She made a derisive sound.  “No wonder you believe a computer can be a living thing.”

“It explains why you can hook a VI up to a dead brain, run a little current through, and get a mimicry of the person who used to live there.  The brain recalls its essential patterns.”

Joker wrinkled his nose.  “So, what, people don’t die, they just lose touch with their circuitry?  That doesn’t sound a little crazy?”

“I don’t know what happens after the body expires any more than you do,” she replied steadily.  “But personally?  I think death is an illusion to trick us into feeling important.  Objectively, we’re not any more or less special than anything else in this galaxy just because we can talk.”

Alenko glanced at her.  “Explains why you don’t get scared.  If you think death isn’t real, what’s left to be afraid of?”

Williams sputtered.  “But we’re not the same.  If we were, there’d be no way to make a decision between the life of a dog or the life of a human.”  She grew suspicious.  “Is this why you’re a vegetarian?”

Shepard burst out laughing.  “No.  I said the _idea_ was objective, not that _I’m_ objective.  I assure you I’m quite biased.”

Liara smiled.  “I think it’s nice.  It’s not all that different from what my people believe.  When we die, we return to the greater, timeless whole that encompasses all of creation, as we do in small part in life when we meld with one another.”

“One meld to rule them all?”  Shepard joked.

Joker groaned.  “Commander, that joke was old like a hundred years ago.”

“Can we shut up about all this heavy shit and gamble?” Wrex grumbled.  “You’re making my plates itch.”

They turned over their cards.  Shepard finally managed to win a round, narrowly beating out Alenko with a better high card on her straight.  They continued playing for another hour or so, talking trash and laughing, until they dispersed to their respective beds to get some sleep before reaching Noveria.


	34. Welcome to Noveria

The _Normandy’s_ pilot coughed and gave his C.O. a sidelong glance.  “Nice duds.”

Shepard didn’t give him the satisfaction of glancing down at her attire.  “I’m visiting as a Council spectre.  Spectres don’t have a uniform.”

She wanted to de-emphasize the Alliance Navy’s involvement in this operation.  Spectres commanded attention, but their objectives were quite focused.  Noveria Development Corp would appreciate that.  The Systems Alliance, on the other hand, was possessed of broader concerns, like regulations and taxation.  Shepard didn’t want her mission tangled up in NDC’s paranoia or any ghosts of past negotiations with Colonial Affairs.

So, civvies.  She stuck with her combat boots, not having many other options for footwear, black cargo pants scavenged from her utilities, a thin gray sweater and her familiar leather jacket.  Her hair tumbled over her shoulders with a soft curl and her pistol sat in its holster at her hip.

They skimmed along the upper atmosphere of Noveria, approaching Port Hanshan.  Dense cloud cover stretched out below the ship.  Shepard leaned forward to get a better look, causing her jacket to fall open. 

Joker caught sight of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance division emblem stitched into the sweater’s right breast and let out a guffaw.  “Don’t tell me.  Councilor Tevos gave you that thing with a handshake and a commemorative pen when you were inducted?”

“It’s a cold planet,” she groused.  “What do you want from me?  If I had a suit, I’d wear that, but I don’t.”

He laughed louder.  “Seriously, where’d you pick it up?  Like you said, no uniform.”

She looked him dead in the eye.  “My hand to god, the souvenir shop on the Presidium.”

Before Joker could have any fun with that pronouncement, Bakari interrupted over the intercom.  “We’re being hailed by the Port Hanshan docking authority.  They don’t sound happy, ma’am.”

“Put them through,” Shepard directed.

There was a small burst of static as Bakari patched them in.  “This is Approach Control, unknown ship, identify.”

Joker cleared his throat.  “Approach Control, this is the _SSV Normandy_ , requesting a vector and a berth.”

“ _Normandy_ , your arrival was not scheduled.”  The controller’s hostility was plain.  “Our defense grid is armed and tracking you.  State your business.”

The pilot glanced at Shepard.  She gave him a nod, crossing her arms.  He addressed the comm.  “Citadel business.  We’ve got a Council spectre aboard.”

The ship started to shake a bit; Shepard could see it through the windows as the high winds of a serious blizzard buffeted their craft like a toy, but for now, the momentum dampeners kept the interior smooth and stable. 

“Roger that.  Landing access granted.  Be advised we will be confirming identification on arrival.  If confirmation cannot be established, your vessel will be impounded.”

“Yeah, great.”  Joker punched the button to terminate the call and gave all his attention to flying.  A crease of concentration appeared on his brow, rare for him.

Shepard felt a kernel of concern lodge in her gut.  “Are we good?”

“It’s just a storm,” he spat derisively, yanking the ship hard to starboard against a sudden gust.  “This part’s the worst.  Once we break the cloud deck we’ll be fine.”

The bridge ports were solid white.  Shepard’s look was dubious.

Joker snapped, “ _Normandy’s_ instruments know exactly where we are.  A mere meteorological beating won’t take my baby down.  Now can you stop staring over my shoulder and let me do my job?”

She held up her hands in surrender and retreated to the CIC.

It took the better part of a half hour for the ship to clear NDC’s decontamination procedures and docking bureaucracy before Shepard was allowed to step out the airlock.  By the time Docking Control was done asking for various forms of authentication, Shepard rather felt like she’d bought a house.  She took Williams and Alenko with her to watch her back, and Garrus as well in case his past week of total immersion into Binary Helix and NDC came in handy. 

Over the past week, her irritation with Alenko had grown.  She knew it wasn’t fair.  He wasn’t doing anything to cause it.  But between not knowing how he really felt, and realizing it didn’t make a damn bit of difference either way, Shepard was beyond frustrated, and it was starting to show.  But leaving him back on the ship would be even more obvious.  So onward they went.

The docking bay was a large, straight tube that funneled them towards an expensive lobby done up in steel and pale green glass.  But before they could proceed, a trio of guards in hardsuits stamped “ERCS” across the shoulders and breast confronted them. 

Shepard took in each security officer in a rapid glance.  Two humans and a turian, all of them armed with basic assault rifles, middle-of-the-line gear.  She came to a stop about two meters from their leader, a pale woman with dark hair pulled back severely from an expressionless face.  “Is there a problem, officer?”

The blonde to the leader’s left curled her lip.  “You better hope there isn’t.  This is an unscheduled arrival.”

She dropped the words with a venom others might have reserved for “drug smuggling” or “weapons trafficking”.  It was all Shepard could do to stop herself from giving the woman a well-earned eye roll.

The dark haired woman spoke more mildly.  “We need to examine your credentials.”

Shepard tilted her head.  “Wasn’t this taken care of when we docked?  Who are you?”

The blonde actually took a step towards her.  “We’re the law here.  Show some respect.”

The commander favored her with the kind of dismissive glare reserved for misbehaving children, before turning back to the leader.

The woman sighed.  “I’m Captain Maeko Kimura, Elanus Risk Control Services.  It’s our job to ensure the safety of our residents and our guests.”

“Spectre Nathaly Shepard.  Good to meet you.”  She glanced around the lobby.  “Any chance we could continue this inside?  It’s damn cold in this tube.  You’ve got a hell of a storm out there.”

“ _You’re_ the spectre?”  The blonde was insulted.  She turned to her supervisor.  “This is a truck of bullshit, ma’am.  And they came in on a supposed navy ship, but the next patrol’s not scheduled for two weeks.”

“Stand down, Sergeant Stirling.”  To Shepard, Kimura said, “We will need to confirm that before I can allow you into Port Hanshan.  Also, I must advise you that firearms are not permitted on Noveria.”

She glanced at her squad.  “I wasn’t aware of any such prohibition.”

“I’m afraid so.”  Kimura nodded to the blonde.  “Sergeant, please secure their weapons.”

Williams blurted out, “We’re not really going to let them do this.  Are we?”

Shepard exchanged a long look with Kimura.  All she saw was an honest woman trying to fulfill her duty.  If all else failed, she had a rather large knife sheathed in her boot- and besides, rifle or no, Shepard would be cold in the ground before she couldn’t take a bottom-feeder like Stirling bare-handed.  She shrugged.  “Their house, their rules.”

“But-“

“Can it, Ash,” she said sharply.  Williams grumbled.  Kimura offered her a rueful glance of long-suffering sympathy.

Reluctantly, Shepard began to remove her sidearm, when the intercom came to life.  “Stand down, Captain.  Citadel Security just sent validation of her spectre code.  Shepard and her associates are authorized to carry weapons here.”

Shepard let go the gun and it slid back into its holster with a satisfying weight.

Kimura lowered her rifle.  “You can proceed, spectre.  On the behalf of NDC, welcome to Port Hanshan, and thank you for your cooperation.”

Shepard gave her a curt nod and headed through the large glass doors.  Alenko rubbed his arms as they headed up a staircase, past an ornate fountain.  “And I thought Vancouver was cold.”

Garrus was shivering.  “Palaven’s not exactly renowned in the ski tourism industry.”

“Weather,” Shepard harrumphed.  “You can keep it.”

A half a million sensors went off as they approached a long desk for final clearance into the facility.  A woman in a tight hot pink dress came scuttling out from the back and slapped a button.  The alarms died.  Shepard raised her eyebrows.

“Weapons alarms.  Pay them no mind.”  She smiled brightly, displaying perfect white teeth.  Her lip gloss was shiny enough to rival the polished marble countertop of the desk.  “I’m Gianna Parasini, assistant to Administrator Anoleis.  Allow me to apologize for the incident in the docking bay.”

Shepard was not so easily put off.  “It’s pretty clear Kimura was ordered to either dissuade or delay us, Ms. Parasini.  Is this how you greet authorized representatives of the Citadel here on business?”

The woman bowed deeply.  “Again, I do apologize.  Our highest aim is to treat all our guests with consideration.  But surely you understand our security captain was only doing her job.  The Executive Board does everything in its power to protect the privacy of our client corporations.”

“I didn’t come looking for corporate secrets or noncompliance, but your overreaction to my presence is highly suggestive.”

“A misunderstanding only.  Most of our high-profile guests give advance notice.”  Parasini, keen to smooth things over, reached under the desk and brought out a folded packet.  “As a courtesy for your trouble, allow me to offer your party accommodations at our corporate hotel for the duration of your stay.”

Shepard was about to reject the rather obvious bribe out of hand, when a picture in the glossy brochure caught her eye.  “Is that a bathtub?”

“All of our rooms come fully equipped with a range of luxury services to suit our clientele.”

Shepard hesitated, but the temptation was too great.  She acquiesced.  “Thank you.”

Parasini beamed, bowing again.  “If you’ll head around the corner, the elevator will take you to the main level.  Enjoy your stay.”

They crowded into the carriage, another oval masterpiece with thick square panes lending it an almost greenhouse feel.  Garrus gave her a very dry look.  “We’re susceptible to blackmail now?”

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t like I spat on my hand and pinkie-swore to keep out of their business.”  Shepard rolled her shoulder.  “The stick didn’t work, so now they’re hoping if they’re nice to me I’ll overlook whatever indiscretions they’re trying to hide.  It’s hardly my fault if their strategy fails, though to be honest I couldn’t care less if it doesn’t lend me a clue about what I came for.”

The elevator was almost certainly monitored, and Shepard was less than inclined to reveal any details of her mission before it became necessary.  Let ERCS and Anoleis wonder what brought a spectre here.  For that matter, let them think a cushy hotel room put her off her target, if it helped her sneak up behind Binary Helix.  Maybe she should let it start to look that way, over the next few days.

The elevator doors opened onto a sweeping hall dotted here and there with fountains and planters, ramps and stair cases wandering its three terraced levels, while a floor-to-very-high-ceiling bank of windows dominated an entire side of the room.  It displayed nothing but the fury of the storm.  Port Hanshan was well snowed in.

Williams glanced around, appraisingly.  “I like it.  Very zen.”

“Expensive, but tasteful,” Alenko concurred.

“Lots of places for secret deals,” was Garrus’ rather mood-killing assessment.

Shepard kept her comments to herself, but she rather liked the port.  The subdued rushing of the waterfall fountains soothed the mind, and the splashes of greenery relieved the dull gray stone comprising most of the room’s structure.  It could use a little wood, perhaps, just another textural element to warm the look a bit, but that was her only critique.

Businesspeople in sharp suits clustered in twos and threes around the room, gesturing at omni-tools and datapads.  They hushed as the _Normandy_ team walked by, only to resume in whispers once they were past.  Shepard caught a few snippets about “the ones from the email”, management, and something about a gag order.  One of the security cameras must have captured their images and circulated it to the employee base.  NDC moved with speedy efficiency.

As they moved out of the pointed stare of an ERCS guard, Shepard remarked lightly, “And I thought Councilor Sparatus defined unfriendly.”

“At least they’re boarding us,” Williams said with uncustomary optimism.  “Do you think they’ll have real pillows on the beds, or those weird disposable foam things?”

“I have no idea, Chief.”

She sighed longingly.  “I hope they’re real.”

Alenko admitted, “A hot bunk does get old pretty fast.”

“Hey, you picked a frigate.”  There was an edge to Shepard’s voice that she couldn’t keep out despite the lighthearted intent, the same that kept creeping in all the time lately.  She knew she was offering unwarranted coldness, and that he noticed and was bewildered by it, and for some reason that irritated her even more.  “Should’ve asked for a posting on a dreadnought if you wanted a real bed.”

He was startled by the unexpected jab.  “Nothing exciting ever happens on a dreadnought.  And while I’m not complaining, this posting wasn’t by request.  I never met Anderson until he came to Mars to observe a few days of training, about two months in.”

That puzzled her.  “I thought Anderson picked most of the crew personally.”

“Got me.”  Alenko shrugged.  “I would’ve asked if I’d known about it.”

_Stop it_ , she told herself firmly as she felt another barb rise on her tongue.  Try as she might, anything resembling normal behavior had eluded her since that eavesdropped conversation.  It wasn’t professional.  It certainly wasn’t kind.  But she seemed completely unable to suppress the impulse.

Williams looked between them and stuck her hands in her pockets, moving the subject along a tangent.  “Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m finally on a ship, let alone this ship.”

“We don’t have any shortage of excitement for anyone,” Shepard made herself say.

Garrus grinned.  “I served on three turian ships and they hardly saw as much action combined as you people go through in a month.”

“We like to keep busy.”  Shepard glanced around.  “Anyone see a highly ostentatious office?  I need to talk to Anoleis.  Sooner would be better.”

It took some time to locate the office, which hid its entrance behind a discreet partition tucked into the corner of the building.  Two hard-suit clad armed guards stood at attention on either side.  They inspected her briefly but thoroughly as they passed, their beady turian eyes lingering on her sidearm. 

Garrus eyed them right back.  “The natives just keep getting friendlier.”

“It’s a lot of security for a place run this tight.”  The heavy guard presence bothered Shepard more than she let on.  When NDC screened and disarmed their visitors so rigorously, there should be no need for heavy protection inside the facility.  Of course, if security was open to giving bribes there was every chance they were open to receiving them as well.  A comforting thought.

The four of them walked through a massive antechamber boasting several tables as well as extranet bubble viewers, spherical screens that would envelope the user with the content of their choice in near-complete privacy.  Green and pink light danced beneath their white shells.  Clerestory windows decorated the upper edge of the walls, though like every other port, they showed only the blizzard white-out.  Shepard was impressed by the building’s insulation.  Even near the windows, the whistling winds were reduced to a bare whisper of sound.

What felt like a half kilometer later, they went around another partition and entered the foyer, which was nearly empty for being such a massive room.  A prominent desk dominated the space with a single terminal resting on its surface.  Behind it, Gianna Parasini was back at her post.  She looked up as they approached.  “Spectre.  What can I do for you?”

“I need to see the administrator.”

Parasini typed a few lines into her computer.  “Certainly.  I can schedule you for-“

“I’m sure he can spare a few minutes now,” Shepard interrupted, not unpleasantly, but plainly indicating an appointment was not necessary.  “Please tell him to expect me.”

Parasini got a look at her face.  “Of course.  Right away, ma’am.”

Shepard was already walking as the woman activated the intercom.  To her credit, her tone was smooth, not at all frantic.  “Mr. Anoleis?  The spectre is here to see you.”

Not Shepard, not Commander, just “the spectre”.  Shepard liked that.  It was a title, indicating rank and authority in an absolute way, but devoid of personal interest.  That was how it should be.  All spectres should be equal stewards of the galaxy with the same professional aims, interchangeable with each other.  “The spectre is here to see you”- and nothing more needed to be said.

She could get used to that.

The glass doors parted at her approach, admitting her to a comparatively small office with a desk, several filing cabinets, a small side table, and a handful of chairs.  A dour salarian man didn’t cease scrolling through his terminal for more than a second to acknowledge their entrance, a single flick of his dark alien eyes.

Shepard addressed him directly.  “Administrator Anoleis?”

“Every minute I waste talking to you costs the company twelve credits,” he announced coldly.  “This had better be important.”

She skipped the preamble.  “I’m here to research Saren Arterius’ role in one of your client corporations, Binary Helix.  I believe they have laboratory facilities on this planet.”

“What makes you believe I would reveal such information, even if I had it?”  He waved a hand dismissively.  “Spectre Arterius sits on their executive board, as is public knowledge.  And before you can ask, I don’t know why he takes a special interest in their labs and I certainly don’t know what Lady Benezia’s business here is about.  When stakeholders arrive to inspect their facilities, we don’t tend to hinder them.”

Shepard only just managed to keep her jaw from dropping open like a stranded fish.  “Benezia is on Noveria?  Now?”

She could tell from the flicker of recrimination that crossed his face that Anoleis was cursing his own assumption.  His words were clipped and nasty.  “Yes.  She arrived four days ago, just ahead of the storm, along with several large crates and an entourage.  They headed straight for the mountains and nobody has seen them since.”

“Anything special about the crates?”

Anoleis twitched with irritation.  “They passed weapons inspection.  We had no reason to stop her taking them up to Binary Helix’s hot labs.”

She didn’t react to his aggravated tone.  “And this entourage?”

“What do you think?”  He sniffed.  “Highly trained asari biotics, likely commandos, attending to the protection of her person.  Even you brought your own people with you.”

“They’re not my bodyguards,” she said immediately, defensively.  Behind her, she heard the distinct sound of Williams swallowing a laugh.

“I’m not bothered with who they are.  Now, if you’re quite finished wasting my time…?”

“Nearly.”  Shepard tapped her fingers against her hip.  “Just tell me where I can catch a shuttle to this hot lab and I’ll be out of your hair.  Err… horns, as it were.”

For the first time in the conversation, the salarian was off his guard.  He blinked twice.  “Are you blind?  We’re at the center of a Category Four Snow Event.  The entire fleet’s grounded.  Even the roads into the Skadi Mountains are all but impassable.”

“Alright, give me a ground transport then.”

“As I said, the roads are unsuitable for travel.  You may be a spectre, but even spectres bow to nature’s fury.  Be reasonable.   Nobody can get in or out until the storm passes.  I won’t risk my personnel or equipment.  You have to wait it out like everyone else.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“With due respect, Spectre Shepard, I don’t care.”  He turned back to his terminal.  “Now I must ask you to leave.  Good day.”

Shepard considered prolonging the argument, but didn’t see the point.  She didn’t need to convince the Administrator to give her what she needed; he wasn’t the one in direct, physical control of the vehicles.  With a curt nod, she turned on her heel and vacated the office.

Her team of three had to hustle to keep up.  Alenko asked, “What now, ma’am?”

She ignored him and touched her ear, activating her comm implant.  “Shepard to _Normandy_.  You there, Joker?”

“Ready and waiting, Commander.”

“Can we take the ship into the mountains?  Benezia’s hiding out in a lab up there.”

“Benezia’s here?  Right now?  Holy crap.  Talk about a lucky break.”

“Focus, Joker.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  He cleared his throat.  There was a long pause while he checked his controls.  “No can do, Commander.  There’s no room to land and the odds of dropping the Mako in a ravine are about as good as hitting the road.”

That was a disappointment, but she took it in stride.  “Roger that.  I’ll find another way.  Shepard out.”

They made their way through the antechamber and back into the main facility.    Shepard found a map holo, and started searching for the garage. 

Garrus glanced around at the clusters of employees who were studiously avoiding taking any notice of them whatsoever.  “Are we ready to confront Benezia?  We still don’t know what’s going on, not really.  The Conduit is a mystery, as is Saren’s objective here.”

Alenko seemed to be thinking along similar lines, though he chose his words carefully.  “Commander, we should bring Liara into this.  She helped us find this place, and she’d got an inside track.”

Shepard stared at the wall, at the stone through the holographic projection.  “I’d rather avoid it if I can.”

Williams was confused.  “Why’s that, ma’am?”

Garrus added, “She might be able to get more out of Benezia than any of us could.”

Shepard took a breath and turned to face them.  “I don’t suppose it’s occurred to any of you that I might have to kill Benezia?”

None of them would meet her eyes.  She sighed.  “I don’t care what Benezia’s done or how bad their relationship is, nobody deserves to watch their friend murder their mother.  I’m not doing that to Liara unless I have no other choice.”

“Shiala snapped out of it,” said Alenko uncertainly.

Shepard wasn’t counting on it.  She rubbed her nose.  “I have a bad feeling about this.”

He looked at her.  “We’re getting closer, and that’s a good thing.”

In a manner of speaking, he was right.  In terms of whether Liara’s loyalty or soundness of mind would hold past the sacrifice of her mother, if it came to that, Shepard was less certain.  Shiala’s explanation of an indoctrination process was compelling, but could it really bedazzle an accomplished biotic with the asari’s particular bent for the mental arts and nearly a thousand years’ experience, if Benezia didn’t buy into Saren’s philosophy on some level already?  What if Benezia was the indoctrination process, and had brainwashed all her followers to believe a crazy story about an alien ship possessed of telepathic powers?  It made as much sense as anything else.

Williams peered at her.  “Commander?”

She shoved her musing aside.  “Come on.  Garage is at the other end of the building.”

They wound their way down a long concrete hallway, the air growing cooler by degrees, until they arrived in a low-ceilinged room capped by automatic glass doors sealing off the shuttle hangar from the rest of the facility, opening automatically at their approach.  The place was nearly abandoned, only a few technicians on the floor.  One of them, a turian, wiped his hands on his oil-stained coveralls and came over to greet them.  “Hey, folks.  Visitors aren’t really allowed in here.”

Shepard continued examining the hangar and vehicle selection.  Security was tight.  The garage doors leading to the planetary surface were thick, and activated by both card readers and biometric scanners.  At a guess, the cards were likely issued to all personnel with surface excursion permissions, while the scanners were a tandem system requiring a member of the garage staff, maybe this turian.  It’s how she would have set things up, were she as concerned about access control as Anoleis.  They could hack through- maybe- but it wouldn’t be simple.

Garrus gestured towards her.  “I don’t think Shepard understands rules very well.  Maybe you can explain it to her.”

He gave her a closer look.  “You’re that spectre who’s got management running around like a bunch of spooked varren.”

She offered him a smile.  “Glad to see the Alliance Navy aren’t the only ones to still see some value in Mako tanks in a world of shuttle craft, though I’m curious why a research collective needs all that artillery.”

His mandibles flared slightly, and he stuck his hands in his pockets.  “You can’t be too careful.  Noveria’s native wildlife is a whole other kind of tough.”

Shepard chuckled.  “This your garage?”

“I’m the chief mechanic, so I guess that makes it mine, sure.”  He held out his hand.  “Call me Li.  Humans have a hard time with my full name.”

“Shepard,” she said, accepting the handshake.  “My dad was deck chief on a carrier, before he retired.  Spent half his life fixing birds.”

“And anything else that breaks, if his job was anything like mine.”  His laugh came from his belly, warm and genuine.  “How do you like the Mako?”

“The balance could be better,” she replied honestly.  “They’re jouncy.  Stiffen up the shock absorbers and put some teeth in the accelerator.”

“You’d sacrifice fall survivability.”

“A little, sure, but you’d have a tank that was more evasive and didn’t jump two meters in the middle of a shot because you rolled over a little bump.  The trade-off would be a net improvement.”  She paused.  “And if you’re really worried about crush damage, extend the dampening field dynamically.  The thing’s got more juice than it knows what to do with anyway.”

Li stared.  He wasn’t the only one- most of her squad was likewise startled.  Her mouth quirked.  He pointed.  “You, I like.  I may not agree but you’re not stupid-wrong.  What brings you to my hangar?”

Shepard turned towards him and uncrossed her arms.  “I need to get to Binary Helix’s lab, as soon as possible.  I hoped you could help me out.”

“I’m sorry to say I can’t.”  His regret was immediate, and authentic.  “Every garage pass is monitored and closely tracked.  Port Hanshan’s closed due to the storm.   I’d lose my job.”

“Is it the blizzard, or Anoleis?” she asked dryly.

He was quiet a long moment.  At last, he said, “It’s true that the shuttles were grounded before you got here, but it’s also true that the Administrator could’ve made an exception for the Makos if he liked.  Sorry, Shepard.  I wish there were something I could do.”

“Your hands are tied.  I wouldn’t ask you to risk your job.”  She made to leave.  “Thank you, though.”

“Wait.”  He ambled closer, lowering his voice.  “It’s not much, but not for nothing, Synthetic Insights is in a bit of a jam over Anoleis’ little fees.  They’ve got garage privileges to access their labs, next mountain over from Binary Helix’s.”

“Tit for tat?”

“Don’t let the snobbishness fool you.  Everything on Noveria’s for sale, right down to their fancy shoes.”

“I see.”  She looked him over.  “Good meeting you, Li.”

“It was an honor.”  He shook her hand a second time, and returned to his work.

“What now, ma’am?” Williams asked as they returned to the warmth of the main facility.

“I don’t know.”  Shepard raked her hair back from her face and blew out a breath.  They had a dire shortage of leverage.  Briefly, she considered simply stealing a pass, but for all she knew they were required to operate the vehicles as well as depart.  Getting stranded halfway up a mountain when Anoleis deactivated the stolen card seemed the world’s worst scenario.  “Any idea when this storm will pass?”

Alenko tapped a query into his omni-tool.  “Not for a week at the inside.”

“I’m not sitting on my ass for a week while Benezia delivers whatever Binary Helix developed for Saren.”

Garrus rested his chin in his hand.  “Can we wait for her to come back through the station?  NDC won’t like it if we pick a fight on their turf, but I’m prepared to live with it.”

Shepard thought it over.  “No.  ERCS would be on their side so we’d be greatly outnumbered.  That’s not insurmountable, but I’d prefer to limit casualties.  And Benezia might decide to chance the weather and take a shuttle directly to orbit whenever her pick-up arrives.”  She switched tactics.  “Did you or Liara uncover anything about Binary Helix’s work?”

“For Saren specifically?  Not much.  All I found was a number of high-value transactions flowing from his pockets into theirs.”

“That’s our next angle, then,” she decided.  “We’ll keep working the transport problem and try to figure out what makes a turian with a synthetic army buy out a voting stake in a genetics firm.”

“How?”

“We split up and start asking questions.  We’ll cover more ground that way, and there may be a few people who’d rather talk to you than me, given how my face got plastered all over their email.”  Shepard wasn’t overly concerned.  It put her in a good place for a hard sell on transport while her team worked out a softer angle on intel.  “Garrus, let’s see some old-fashioned detective work.  Talk to anyone who looks interesting.  Williams, try to chat up the guards.  They’re not friendly but you should have enough in common to get them going.  Alenko, you’re on electronics.  There has to be a hundred public terminals in this place.  Maybe somebody left tracks.”

There was a round of agreement.  She nodded approvingly.  “Let me know if you find anything.  Otherwise, we’ll meet up at evening mess.”

Williams nodded and took off, Garrus not far behind her.  Alenko crossed his arms and waited.

She didn’t look at him, instead pulling up a dossier on her omni-tool.  “Did I stutter, Lieutenant?”

“No, ma’am,” he replied evenly.  “Permission to ask a question?”

Shepard gave him a level stare.  “Shoot.”

“What is up with you the last couple days?”  He didn’t bother to curb the bluntness.  “You’ve been chewing my ass for no damn reason and that’s not like you.”

“Sorry if my lack of sugarcoating upsets your delicate sensibilities,” she shot back before she could stop herself.  She was vaguely horrified. 

Alenko folded his arms.  “I’m not angry.  I’m worried about you.  Or is that off-limits now too?”

The last sentence was not so much a thrown knife as a gentle shove back by a friend who’d had enough.  A warning gesture rather than an attack.  She almost would have preferred a straight-up assault- a fight was at least familiar ground.  Shepard ran a hand over her face.  “I’m sorry.  I’m just… tired and anxious, that’s all.” 

The half-lie left her tongue like slime.  The truth was, while people claimed not to like excuses, most did appreciate explanations, a chance to rationalize and judge poor choices.  But what else was she supposed to tell him?  That some cheap scuttlebutt got under her skin, and while she damn well knew it was never going to happen even if the rumors were accurate, she liked the thought too much to confront directly and watch it get crushed right in front of her?  It was pathetic.  She was pathetic.

 

The silence stretched just long enough for her to start to worry he wouldn’t buy it, but then his expression smoothed and he nodded.  “Ok.  If there’s something I can do to help…”

She forced a smile.  “You can figure out if any of Binary Helix’s employees left useful data on those terminals.”

Shepard watched him go, and then spent a minute systematically putting it from her mind before turning her feet towards the facility’s small commercial area.

Noveria’s client corporations were good about supplying their employees with material wants and needs.  There was a fully-staffed mess, uniforms for the less senior staff, housing and extranet access.  But they couldn’t anticipate everything, and so a few sundry shops and other businesses survived at the north end of the main facility.  Shepard hoped to find some kind of piddling tour company, for escorting visiting investors and employee family members around the site.  Such a company would either have its own transports or direct access to NDC’s, and possibly be more susceptible to her kind of influence.

She paused to read the sign outside one establishment, an import/export business, and was about to turn away disappointed when a voice beckoned her inside.  “You are the spectre that visits Port Hanshan?”

It was possessed of strange overtones, harmonies, as if more than one person spoke.  Shepard leaned to the side to look in the door.  A pink ovoid limned in a pearly blue, about the size of a medium dog, floated about 220 centimeters from the floor.  Pudgy spines decorated its back and six long, delicate tentacles trailed towards the floor.  Though it had no obvious mouth the words came quite clearly.  It oriented itself towards her with something like expectation.

Her eyebrows rose.  A hanar.  They weren’t exactly uncommon throughout the galaxy, but this was the first to make her personal acquaintance.  “News travels fast.”

“Indeed, esteemed spectre.”  It bobbed slightly.  “Your arrival was not greeted with any joy, yet this one is pleased to make your acquaintance.”

That immediately put her on her guard.  Li’s warning about the fickle nature of Noveria’s inhabitants hovered in her mind.  Cautiously, she asked, “And why is that?”

It turned sideways, just enough to welcome her in, and she took the hint.  Inside the shop was drab, accentuated only by a terminal with a non-standard interface she guessed accommodated the hanar’s unique physiology, and a few posters advertising its services. 

“This one is called Opold,” it continued, drifting behind the counter.  “There is a burden you could ease.  This one is known as a merchant, and could compensate you handsomely.”

“My services aren’t for sale.”  She wondered if recording the message to play automatically from her omni-tool in response to such inquiries would save her any time.

“This one does not ask much,” the hanar amended hastily.  “There is a special item this one has procured for a customer, not permitted within the facility.  But a spectre’s baggage is not subjected to scrutiny.  You could carry it through customs.”

“You want to hire a spectre as a trafficking mule.”  Her disbelief was palpable.

“That… is not inaccurate, but the situation is not so simple.  This one’s customer is impatient and prone to violence.”

“You should have thought of that before agreeing to the transaction.” 

“This one admits to unsound reasoning.  The original carrier was discovered before receiving this one’s merchandise.”

Shepard was about to decline and take her leave, when a thought gave her pause.  Her mission required both leverage for transportation and more information about Binary Helix’s research activities.  Depending on the nature of the cargo, it could give her one or both.  “I’m not getting in five leagues of your ‘special item’ without knowing what it is.”

The hanar clearly didn’t like that.  Its tentacles drew up a few centimeters, closer to its body.  “This one must be discreet.  Rest assured, the contents pose no threat to anyone within Port Hanshan.”

She somehow doubted that, but she could check for herself once she had it in hand.  “And your customer…?”

“…prefers to remain anonymous.”

“He’d prefer to have his package.  And it sounds like the only way that’s going to happen is through me.  So start talking.”

Its ogive snout wriggled with discomfort.  After a moment of staring her down, it yielded.  “The customer is the krogan Inamorda, a bounty hunter of some repute.  That one grows restless from the delay.”

Now she was certain that whatever the nature of the item, it was banned from the premises with good reason.  “Where do I pick up the package?”

Opold sagged with relief.  “It will be delivered to your vessel within the day.  All you need do is deliver it to this one.”

“Simple enough.”

“This one offers humble thanks to the spectre.”

Don’t thank me yet _,_ she thought, but offered only a reassuring smile.  “I should be going before anyone sees us together.”

“Of course.”  Opold bobbed again, and Shepard left the shop.

She located a bench near a particularly attractive waterfall feature and popped open her omni-tool.  She dashed off a quick message to the _Normandy_ , telling them to expect a package of some kind and requesting any further information they could get on Opold.  Her gut said it was as simple as the hanar stated, but there was no harm in checking.

After that, she started pulling files on Synthetic Insights.  She didn’t care if she had to hotwire some unfortunate CEO’s company car- she was getting to that lab.  The corporation had made the news with some frequency in the weeks following Eden Prime.  As a licensed developer of AI technology, one of only ten in the whole of Council space, the Alliance had contracted their services analyzing geth casualties for exploitable weaknesses.  They’d also received several human bodies for study who had died of injuries inflicted by the synthetics, mostly from the 212.

Chief Williams was apoplectic when she heard.  Shepard found the research incredibly distasteful, but just because she had a microphone at her disposal didn’t mean it was appropriate to get involved.  One of the most frustrating and difficult parts of being a spectre was knowing when to make use of her authority and when to fume in silence.  Alliance R&D didn’t want her telling them how to best develop tools to defend the Alliance any more than she wanted them telling her how best to deploy them on a live mission.

Regarding Synthetic Insight’s involvement on Noveria or with the NDC, there was less information.  They were not members of NDC’s executive board, though they did maintain extensive laboratories in the mountains, listed under their assets.  Finding a member of their executive staff responsible for this holding was more complicated.  They proudly listed several leading scientists lured away from academia or other corporations to head their research efforts, but they wouldn’t have what Shepard needed.

Briefly, she contemplated whether it was possible and worthwhile to drive her own Mako up the docking tube and through the lobby, before recalling the problem of the elevator.  But sure there would be a larger service elevator somewhere in the docks…

“Synthetic Insights?” said a voice behind her, light and airy.  “And you’ve not even been on Noveria a day.  I’m impressed.”

Shepard turned slightly and saw Anoleis’ secretary, her hands folded neatly against the front of that ridiculously pink dress.  Not a hair was out of place and the same mild, pleasant smile was fixed on her face.  “Ms. Parasini.”

The woman gestured towards the bench.  “Could we chat for a few minutes?”

Shepard shut her omni-tool and inclined her head, waiting.  Parasini sat, smoothing her skirt beneath her in one sleek gesture, and spent a few seconds studying the waterfall.  “You know, you’re very different from how you seem on the news vids.”

“How do I seem?” Shepard asked dryly, with satisfying cynicism.

“Harder.  More belligerent.  Navy through-and-through.”  She leaned forward almost conspiratorially.  “You talk about duty an awful lot.”

Did she?  She was hardly fixated...  Shepard sidestepped the issue and chose a vapid response.  “Did you think marines do this for the pay?”

“Of course not.  However, I admit I didn’t expect you to adapt well to the realities of Noveria.”  She smiled.  “And one doesn’t exactly picture a spectre salivating at the thought of a long, hot bath.”

Shepard refused to be made self-conscious.  “I know, right?  Of the plethora of available vices, I’m drawn to something that mundane?  Doesn’t seem quite sexy enough for the role.”

“It’s one of my duties to make all our important guests feel at home.  Believe me, I’d rather deal with the ones who want something simple.  We had an asari executive come through last month who expected us to supply her Hallex habit for the duration of her stay.  It was a nightmare.”

“But that’s not your real job.”

“No,” Parasini agreed.  “My job is to keep my boss happy and his office running smoothly.  Your surprise visit creates challenges for both tasks.  Anyone with direct access to the Council, not to mention the powers-that-be within the Alliance, can make life very difficult for my employer.  I would’ve done my best to accommodate anything you asked.  But you didn’t want to negotiate or you’d hardly have settled for so little.”

Shepard cut the crap.  “I came here for information vital to ending the attacks on colonies within the Attican Traverse.  That benefits your employer regardless of whether they choose to acknowledge it.  I do what I have to in order to get the things I need, and beyond that, I’m not interested in corporate games.  I suspect there are more than a few activities on this rock that would make me sick, but I’m not going out of my way to find them, and you should take that as a courtesy.”

“We do.  I came to you in the interests of giving you something you do want in hopes of fostering a benevolent relationship between our organizations while you are here.”  Her smooth, practiced tone never wavered.

“And what is that?” she asked with some suspicion.

“A name.”  She withdrew a small datapad from a pocket and cued up a picture of a well-dressed turian man.  “Lorik Qui’in.”

She committed the face to memory.  “Who is he?”

“The head manager-in-residence overseeing Synthetic Insights’ operation.  S.I., as you clearly know, is in the midst of a quarrel with NDC that’s become unpleasant for Qui’in.  He needs someone to bring the issue to closure.  As it happens, you may have the proper talents.”  Parasini slipped the datapad away.  “His offices are closed pending investigation, but in the evenings you can find him in the hotel bar.”

Shepard tucked the piece of information away.  “I still don’t trust your motives, but thank you.”

To her surprise, Parasini laughed.  “No, thank you, spectre.  Your bluntness is… refreshing.”

And with that, the secretary stood, smoothed her dress, and departed.

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard was into her second hour of waiting for Qui’in, getting evil looks from the bartender for taking up a table while nursing a single cherry cola.  A half-hearted preliminary report for Anderson lay open on her cantankerous datapad.  With juvenile insolence, she tapped the field reserved for the mission summary, typed, _Noveria confirmed as a corporate hellhole.  Send ice cream and C4,_ and passed several pleasant minutes imagining the look on his face if she submitted the report as-is.

The bar grew crowded as the evening wore on.  The staff assigned to NDC’s headquarters were mainly human and asari, though there was the occasional salarian, turian, or odder species.  An elcor took up station in the far corner, as dour-faced as all his kind, and downed drinks methodically as various business contacts came and went from his table.  The asari seemed as social in business as they were in politics, keeping to groups of two and three, chatting lively and earnestly with one another.  The robust economy of asari-controlled space came almost entirely from brokering trade, testimony to the broad applicability of their strength in diplomacy. 

In contrast the humans were uptight, frenetic, or even paranoid, as they fussed with their food and pushed agendas in the same breath as anxieties.  Two tables over, a woman worried that a company car, lodging, subsidized entertainment and a salary exceeding a small colonial economy wasn’t sufficient reason to transfer positions, and Shepard listened, open-mouthed, as her male companion sympathetically justified her crippling fear of change. 

Somehow, the overheard conversation put Noveria into crisp perspective.  It was an anthill of people ruled by fear- fear of underperforming, of missed deadlines, missed opportunities, disappointment.  The atmosphere in Port Hanshan was not one of enterprising spirit but the collective paranoia of a few hundred people jockeying for position so they wouldn’t have to live with failure.  Shepard understood failure, but she couldn’t imagine being so afraid of her own potential that she fought to remain standing still.

She checked the time.  Still no sign of Qui’in.  She was on the verge of calling Synthetic Insight’s desk to get his contact information, not caring if it tipped her hand, when Alenko entered the bar and crossed the room to her table.

“Lieutenant,” she said, with some surprise.  She radioed _Normandy_ to let them know she had a meeting to attend at the hotel and she might miss her team’s scheduled rendezvous.

“Joker said you managed to get yourself exiled over here,” he explained before she could ask. 

“Maybe for nothing,” she sighed.  “The person I was trying to meet hasn’t shown up yet.”  In truth, she was starting to wonder if Parasini’s tip was a set-up to either waste her time or fix her location while they worked some other kind of mischief.

He waited a few seconds for her to continue, before glancing over his shoulder at the bank of elevators leading to the hotel.  “I was just on my way upstairs and saw you here, and thought I’d stop and see how it was going.”

Her brain was lost in plotting reprisal if the secretary was having her on and caught the awkward excuse belatedly, a touch chagrined.  “You want to sit awhile?  I’m bored to tears waiting.”

Alenko accepted the invitation, setting a brown paper bag emblazoned with the logo of the hotel coffee shop on the table and glancing inadvertently at her datapad.  “You know, we have ordnance on the ship if you want to blow the facility.  We could set up the charges along the window.  All that fire, whirling snow, and falling glass would make a hell of a picture.”

Shepard smiled at that, savoring the image for a few long moments, before changing the subject.  “Does Liara know about her mother yet?”

“Ash told her when we got back to the ship.”

Damn it.  “I meant to call her myself, but then I got caught up in things here…”

“She took it… graciously.  Liara puts up a good front but I think she’s more than a little uneasy.  She said thank you and took her food down to the lab.”

“Still think it’s a good idea to drag her into this?” she asked, unable to help herself.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation, surprising her.  “You’re right that the situation could get ugly.  But there’s no way it won’t be rough, and it’s harder to be helpless.  You can’t protect her from it so at least allow her some say in how it goes down.”

Protests that she wasn’t trying to protect Liara from anything immediately rose to her lips, and died there as Shepard realized that was exactly what she wanted to do.  Of all of them, Liara was the one who never asked to be involved.  The demure asari scientist never signed up for a life like this, and she was exactly the kind of person Shepard promised to safeguard when she took her oath of service.  Putting Liara in the way of disaster ran counter to every instinct she had. 

“She doesn’t deserve this,” she said, aware the sentiment was as insipid as it was empty.

There wasn’t anything to say to that.  Alenko glanced down at the table, fidgeting with the paper bag.

Shepard picked up her cola, by now tepid, and grimaced faintly as she sipped.  “You should go ahead and eat that.  I don’t mind.”

“Oh.”  He looked from the bag to her and reached in, removing a pink-frosted cupcake in a polka-dot wrapper.  “It’s not for…  I know it’s a few days late, but we’ve been stuck on the ship, so… happy birthday.”

He leaned across the table and set the pastry in front of her.

She stared at the cupcake, not disliking it but not sure what to say either.  It occurred to her then that it had been so long since she attempted a relationship based on things like remembering birthdays- or making peace offerings instead of flinging recriminations- that she no longer had any idea how to behave.

Shepard gave the pastry a quarter turn to disguise her reaction and buy a little time, and said, “Staying alive another year isn’t much of an accomplishment.”

“Maybe not for most people, but I know you now.”  Alenko folded his arms on the table and grinned.  “With you, quarterly might be a more appropriate interval for celebration.”

It was surprising too that he could make a joke about the insane level of risk that came with her job, and she really liked that.  Her face was burning.  She hoped it didn’t show.  “I don’t normally advertise my birthday.  It kind of ends up feeling like a command performance if I mention it-“

“Is it really that hard for you to say thank you and eat your damned cake?” he teased.

“Oh, screw you,” she said, before she could think better of it. His grin widened.  Her expression could have withered chalk.  “Don’t look so smug.”

“Sorry, ma’am.  It’s such a rarity to catch you off-guard I feel like I need to savor it.”

Having nothing to say to that, she peeled the wrapper off the cupcake and pulled a chunk away with her fingers.  It was end-of-the-day stale and tasted strongly of artificial strawberry.  She’d never tell.  “Thank you too, I suppose.”

He sat back, pleased, and looked around the bar.  “So your contact is a complete no-show?”

She copied his glance and instantly spotted Qui’in settled in a private booth.  He must have walked in while she was preoccupied contemplating the many interpretations of pastry exchange.  Just another reason why indulging this even a little was a bad idea.  “No, he’s right there.”  Shepard nodded at the booth.  “I need to speak with him privately.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Alenko slid out of the chair.  “Some advice, if you’ll take it- once you’re done, try to get some sleep.  You’re hell without it.”

“Very funny, Lieutenant.”

“Goodnight, ma’am.”  He ambled towards the elevators, and Shepard moved towards the booth.

Qui’in was staring listlessly at a drinks menu with the look of a man who’d memorized it long ago, but had nothing more interesting to occupy his attention.  She slipped into the booth without bothering to ask permission and steepled her hands on the tabletop.

He took it in stride.  If he found her forward approach off-putting, it didn’t show.  “Good evening.  What can I do for you?”

“I think we might be able to help each other.”

“How could an old turian like me be of any possible use to a Council spectre?”  But he rubbed his hands together and leaned forward, his beady eyes intent.

Shepard laid it out swiftly.  “I know Synthetic Insights has been butting heads with Anoleis’ office.  I also know that S.I. holds a garage pass to get to the mountains.  Anoleis is withholding my permissions on account of the weather, but I think we both know that’s merely an excuse.”

“Yes, he would be disinclined to let you wander.  There’s a lot of work in the labs we’re keen to keep away from prying eyes.”  The turian’s mild purr of a voice was very dry.  “’Butting heads’ is one of your charming human idioms, I take it.  Mr. Anoleis has shut my office in order to investigate claims of my supposed corruption.”

“On what grounds?”

“My company pays a premium for offices and laboratories on this planet.  I objected to an additional… surcharge.  Our salarian friend has become quite wealthy since his office took direct control of rent collection.”

The picture was all too clear.  “You called him on his extortion, and this is retribution.”

“Indeed.  He’ll throw me out if he can, but really, he wants the hard evidence I collected on his kickbacks, and for that, he needed an excuse to ransack my office.”  He paused, mandibles hugging his face briefly.  “I doubt he’s found it yet, because his off-the-books goons continue to search the premises with no signs of abatement.”

“Off-the-books?  These are Anoleis’ personal hires?” 

“Naturally, the administrator has no desire for ERCS or any other official authority to become aware of his activities, though they are mostly comprised of security team members trying to earn a little cash on the side.  Captain Kimura, unfortunately, is unaware of their moonlighting.”

Shepard connected the dots in her head.  This was exactly the kind of leverage she needed.  With that evidence, she could acquire transportation through Qui’in, or through Anoleis via blackmail if the turian reneged.  The administrator was charged with protecting the interests of the executive board, but against the wall, he’d save his own skin preferentially.  “If I get your evidence before they find it, you’ll give me your pass?”

Qui’in nodded and reached into a pocket.  “The data is hidden under several layers of encryption and misdirection on my personal terminal.  However, I’ve written a script that will copy it to this OSD automatically.  Take it.”

She closed her hand around the device.  “Where do I go?”

“The more important question is when.  NDC holds electronic master keys to all of the offices within this facility.  Since seizing our premises, they have invoked their control in order to seal the ‘crime scene’, as it were.  Unless you’re carrying state-of-the-art encryption hacks, I would recommend waiting until tomorrow morning, when the guards open the office to continue their search.”

“Won’t that bring me into direct contact with Anoleis’ thugs?”  She wasn’t worried about the outcome of any such encounter, but Qui’in’s lack of concern for discretion startled her.

He waved a hand.  “If you go early, when they’re just getting started, there shouldn’t be too many.  If you’re clever, you might even be able to convince them to take a walk for long enough to get the data and leave.”

She thought it over, and nodded.  The terms were acceptable.  “Alright.  I’ll meet you here tomorrow evening to make the exchange.”

She rose from the table.  His eyes followed her.  “Oh, and one more thing, spectre.”

Shepard waited patiently for him to elaborate.  A flicker of amusement crossed his face.  “Pull this off, and there’ll be more in it for you than a garage pass.”

“I’m paid for my work, Mr. Qui’in.  I don’t need your money.”

“Consider it a personal donation towards the war effort, then.”  There was no mistaking it; Qui’in was highly entertained, though by her perceived naivety or puritanical denouncement was difficult to discern.  “Synthetic Insights greatly values the human market.  Your kind are technology junkies second to none.  The war has been disruptive.”

“Right.”  She snorted and turned to go.

As she was walking away, he called after her.  “And do try to keep bloodstains off the carpets?  Brand new just last summer.”

Shepard took the elevator directly to her hotel room, on the fourth floor of the complex.  It was well-appointed, with a bed large enough to make a krogan feel at home; a small sitting area equipped with a couch, coffee table, and loveseat; broad desk; and a bathroom the size of Shepard’s entire cabin back on the _Normandy_.  The whole thing was done up in white accentuated with soft grays and the occasional burst of sky blue, making the room seem as chilly as Noveria’s terrain.  

It was the porcelain-tiled bathroom that commanded Shepard’s attention as she locked the door behind her.  Impatiently, she swept the room for bugs using a program Tali loaded onto her omni-tool and was somewhat disappointed to only find two.  They were tucked inside a makeshift envelope constructed from the provided hotel stationary and dropped unceremoniously in the hall outside. 

She shed clothing with a similar lack of care from the doorway to the bathroom, leaving a trail of her sad collection of civilian gear, and turned the tap.  Hot water gushed into the tub on a cloud of steam.  On a whim, she upended the tiny bottle of shampoo into the stream, a poor woman’s bubble bath, and stepped outside the bathroom to check her messages while it filled.

There were two from the _Normandy._ The first concerned a request from some of the remaining crew to come ashore, while the second was slightly more interesting.  Setting the omni-tool to audio only, she linked to the ship, and got Joker.  “What’s this about a lead box?”

“That package you wanted us to keep a look out for?  Well, it got here.  And it’s in a briefcase lined with lead.”

That could mean anything from Opold not wanting anyone to see what was inside, to the transportation of radioactive material.  Her brow furrowed.  “What’s in it?”

“Don’t know.  It’s locked and nobody wanted to try to open it without orders.”

“Good job.  Leave it like it is for the moment, and have one of the crew bring it over in the morning when they come ashore.”

“Tali, Liara, and Wrex all want to go.”

“Yeah, I got a message to that effect.”  More like a message whining bitterly about being left behind after being cooped up aboard ship for several weeks.  She could sympathize.

“Tali also said she needs to update you on a special assignment.”  Joker didn’t bother to disguise his curiosity.

Shepard kept her tone neutral.  “She can brief me tomorrow.  Was there anything else?”

“Not on this end, Commander.”

“That’s it for today, then.  Shepard out.”  She closed down her omni-tool and found the bath was almost full.

Climbing in was a week of shore leave hitting her all at once.  With the shower curtain drawn, the walls glowed a faint rosy orange, like sitting inside an apricot.  The effect was incredibly relaxing.  The water steamed just shy of scalding- perfection- and she slid down until her nose was barely above the surface.  Her hair floated on the surface all around her. 

Shepard closed her eyes and let out a long breath.  For the better part of the first fifteen minutes she simply sat quietly, mind blissfully blank, feeling the heat soak into every new bruise, cut, and abrasion her body had accumulated over the last few months, as well as the older injuries that never completely healed like new.  Her body had been through ten years of utter mistreatment at the hands of her work, and it didn’t so much show as feel, some days, in stiffness and aches.  If she felt like this at twenty-nine, she very much doubted she’d thank herself at fifty, but for the time being, the hot water helped.

Inescapably, however, recent events slowly intruded on her momentary relief.  Shepard could never just let herself be for very long; it wasn’t in her nature.  And the problem that rose right to the top came in the shape of her handsome staff lieutenant.

To say she wasn’t good at relationships was an understatement, and hardly limited to romance.  Even most of her friendships centered on work.  She stared into the suds.  If she was being especially honest, it had also been a long time since she gave the matter more than a few moments’ consideration.

Not that she was considering it now.  Definitely not.

Shepard kicked the end of the tub with the pad of her foot, hard enough to slosh the water across the floor.  “Shit.”

She buried her face in her hands and leaned her head back against the lip of the tub.  Because she was considering it.  Because she wanted it, this exact thing, not just any fling.  Because even though the very idea of opening that can of worms with an officer in her own damn command was beyond terrible, the bigger part of her was hoping beyond hope that Ash was right, and Kaidan wasn’t just being as nice as he seemed.

And even if Kaidan wasn’t the worst person available to indulge that particular bit of wistful fantasy, relationships were never worth the time or the heartache. 

Once, during a particularly awful argument, Todd had screamed at her, _“_ _You can_ _’_ _t run a fucking marriage on shore leave._ _”_ That was what it came down to, every time.  Didn’t matter if it was her ex-fiancé or the others who had followed him.  Shepard would insist that it was just the job and they maintained certainty that this was somehow different from every other military relationship in the galaxy.

_“_ _Nobody could love you when you_ _’_ _re like this,_ _”_ he’d said.  She’d hit him.  She wasn’t proud of it.  It was that or weep all the water from her body, and she refused to give him the satisfaction.  So she busted his lip, watched him wipe it away with palpable disgust, and walk out of her life.

After so many years, Shepard could acknowledge Todd was a natural asshole.  He never even tried to work through their problems.  But her work was dangerous and demanding, and there were very few people who could put up with the injuries, the uncertainty, the chronic nightmares and the leaving with no notice, not to be heard from for weeks.  Eventually she decided it was easier not to try.  One night stands were refreshingly uncomplicated, and those partners never cared if she didn’t sleep over.

Sating basic urges had never been anything like enough, but she could pretend otherwise.  Until the damned batarians shot out her drive core a year ago, and she spent several months limping back to the Alliance border with only a slim chance of survival and started questioning every aspect of her life.

It hadn’t produced any clear answers, except a certainty that she didn’t want to live empty anymore.  That whatever part of her Akuze tried to kill was starting to fight back.  For the last six years, Shepard had been in survival mode full time, not so much lonely as exhausting.  Part of her current problem was Kaidan had a way of reminding her of who she was before.  When he talked to her long enough, she almost felt like a whole person again.  She hadn’t expected that.

But these were awful circumstances to be thinking what she was thinking.  Their mission was critical to the future of the Alliance, maybe the entire galaxy.  She could not afford distractions.  The best thing to do was raise the subject, and politely, firmly, indicate lack of interest.

The cloying berry taste of the cupcake’s frosting still clung to her mouth like a promise and she knew she wasn’t going to do that.  Where did that leave her?

No expectations, she decided.  Stop wondering which way to steer the ship and just let it drift.  Letting go of control didn’t come naturally, but she was smart enough to realize it was the only way she could maintain focus where it mattered- on Saren and the geth.  If Kaidan had a bee in his head about her, that was his problem, and if she enjoyed his company and friendship or even simply his attention, there was nothing wrong with that.  She was allowed a little humanity, too.  So long as she didn’t act on… whatever else this was, she was in the clear.

Shepard rose from the tub, dripping, and wrapped one of the hotels puffy towels about herself.  The thing was the size of a small blanket and nearly as thick.  She would have wrapped her hair in one as well if there was any chance of its bulk staying on her head.  The maid service had left _three_ of these casual monstrosities, along with a dressing gown and slippers made of the same.  The items fit perfectly.  Shepard didn’t even want to know how.

A few minutes passed while she played with the vid terminal.  300 premium vid sites and nothing caught her interest.  The news was just as dull.  Udina gave another speech.  Hackett ordered the Fifth Fleet to high alert along high-traffic relay corridors.  The turians were increasing patrols along their own borders, clearly wary of the unrest in the Traverse even if they were unwilling to publicly admit it.  ANN did a very nice profile on one of the dead marines from Eden Prime, and Shepard stopped channel surfing to watch a few minutes of the segment before her cynicism got the best of her and she clicked the unit off.

She sat cross-legged on the bed and chewed her lip.  Then she popped open her omni-tool and found Kaidan’s ID on its message system.  There was nothing strange about it, she told herself; they talked late at night all the time.  _You still awake?_

_You should be sleeping,_ came the stern admonishment, a few seconds later.

_My hair_ _’_ _s dripping wet,_ she complained.

_So throw one of these magic towels over the pillow.  I think the navy could build tents out of them._

_Might be good camouflage for snow-bound ice balls like Noveria._

_But probably not as cheap as insulated tarp._ There was a pause in the exchange.  _I should be enjoying this- how many times do you get to stay in a thousand-credits-a-night hotel on someone else_ _’_ _s dime?  But I just feel restless._

_Is it trying to sleep in a bed larger than a coffin, or the not doing any work for a few hours altogether?_

He was a few minutes in replying.  _Both._

_When this is over, we_ _’_ _ll have to see about making up for wasted nights in nice hotels._ Shepard sent it before she realized how it could look.  Her face burned. 

He sent her back an emoticon indicating laughter.  She thought about clarifying her statement- she only meant that by the time this was over, they’d all have earned a little pampering- before deciding that would only make things worse.

_I wish I hadn_ _’_ _t left my book on the ship,_ she replied at last, lamely.

_Shepard?_

_What?_

_Go to sleep._

She could picture him shaking his head and smiling.  Her eyes rolled at the omni-tool’s holographic screen.  Then she shut it down, ordered the VI to shut the lights, and tried her best to follow his admonition.

 


	35. Snowfall

It was 0423 when Shepard realized the blinking orange light and awful racket was not going away.  In the bleary way of the half-asleep, she fumbled for the omni-tool alarm and squinted at the time.  Then she reached further, for the nightstand, and checked it on her datapad as well.

“Oh, hell,” she muttered, forcing herself to a sitting position in the dark of the room and rubbing at her eyes.  It’d been years since she slept through an alarm.  It was this damned bed, soft and huge and warm, and this absolutely quiet room, and the aftereffects of a hot bath that reduced her muscles to pleasant jelly.

The towel was still more-or-less wrapped around her.  Shepard cued the lights and padded to the restroom.  So much for a morning run.  The hotel boasted an excellent gym, but she’d wasted her spare half hour on extra shut-eye. 

As she woke up a little more, she could grudgingly admit that the tradeoff seemed worthwhile; she was well-rested, for maybe the first time in weeks.  If her nightmares came knocking, they left no footprints.  The bath had worked wonders for her accumulation of minor injuries.  As she brushed her teeth and washed her face, she felt… restored.  Ready.  With luck, the air of easy tranquility might survive past breakfast.

Shepard checked in with her ship as she dragged a brush through her hair and began to braid it.  The comm officer’s voice slurred with sleep.  “This is _Normandy._ Nothing to report, Commander.  Noveria Docking Control affirmed our entry request for the remainder of the shore party.”

“Are they on their way?”

“You should have eyes on them by 0630, ma’am.”

She terminated the call.  The first hour of the morning passed in a steady flurry of ship logs, status updates, and approval forms.  Shepard plowed through an electronic stack of duty rosters and requisitions from Pressly.  Port Hanshan’s fuel prices were nothing short of highway robbery, but these days the _Normandy_ had an expense account to match.  It was disconcerting to not need to jump through a dozen bureaucratic hoops to get the navy to approve her mission expenditures.  Her mother used to joke that her unit could get “lobster on demand” back during the First Contact War, and Shepard was beginning to see her remarks might not have been entirely hyperbolic.  Anything she requisitioned was approved on her word alone without a single objection.

At 0600 hours, she set down the datapad and shrugged into the last of her clothing.  The automatically generated weather report on her datapad showed the blizzard continued unabated.  There was no orbital activity since yesterday evening.  Benezia was still on the ground.   

Strapping on her gun, she headed towards the elevators.  Alenko was attempting to blink himself awake in the fourth floor lobby.  The sight of him caught her by surprise and caused her heart to jump a bit, and she sternly reminded herself that she was out of the business of trying to analyze or suppress that reaction.  Instead she flowed her hands behind her back, addressed her eyes towards the elevator door, and greeted him lightly.  “Lieutenant.”

“Commander.  Ma’am,” he croaked, and rubbed his face.  His hair was still wet. 

Her sidelong glance was thoroughly amused.  “Not much of a morning person, are you?”

“There’s something unnatural about people who like getting up early.”

Shepard snickered.  He heaved a sigh and rolled his head to look at her.  “You don’t count.  I’m still not convinced you understand that you require sleep at all.”

“You need caffeine.”

“You need Chakwas to start crushing sedatives into your food.”

“I think we’re more likely to find coffee on the hotel menu.”

The elevator dinged.  They boarded the carriage and executed two identical, military-drilled turns to face the doors.  He said, “I don’t know.  It is Noveria.  I get the feeling they’re not especially restrained when it comes to medical practice.”

“You can say that twice.”  She chewed her lip.  “I’m concerned that Saren might be developing a biological weapon with Binary Helix.  His troops are synthetic.  He could deploy it with no risk to his own forces, and I’ve managed to intercept something being smuggled to a krogan inside the port.”

Alenko frowned.  “Wherever we’ve found Saren, we’ve found krogan.”

The elevator doors opened into the restaurant’s interior foyer.  “Exactly.  It could be unrelated, but it would be negligent not to examine every lead.  The crew’s bringing the package over this morning.”

They found a table large enough to conduct an informal briefing once the others trickled in.  Shepard picked up the interactive menu and plugged in an order for coffee and toast, while Alenko selected a breakfast special and a large mug of tea.  When she questioned him, he explained, “It doesn’t taste as good, but tea’s easier on the headaches.  Drinking coffee daily is a recipe for a migraine.”

“They screwed you over pretty good on that one, didn’t they.”

Alenko shrugged.  “That’s one way to look at it.   But the L3 implants don’t spike nearly as high as the L2s in terms of power output, and even the L4s they’ve got in trials now don’t compare.  The L2 is a pain to look after, sure, but it lets me make the most of what I’ve got.”

It made a kind of sense.  Shepard, always keen to push herself to the absolute limit of her abilities, couldn’t swear that in his position she wouldn’t agree.  Achievement was never without a certain amount of sacrifice. 

The waiter dropped off their beverages, and Shepard curled her fingers around the warm porcelain while reaching for the sugar.  “On the upside, heavy boxes will never give you much trouble again.”

He spared a glance for the lean, toned muscle of her arm, visible beneath the clinginess of her sweater, his gaze lingering perhaps a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary.  “I don’t think you have to worry much about heavy boxes, either.”

“I can usually pick up whatever I like,” she agreed, smirking, and ladled more sugar into her cup.

He was openly surprised, though not displeased.  Shepard concealed her nervousness over the small sally by stirring the coffee.  She glanced over the rim and caught him smiling.

“I don’t doubt it,” he said at last.  “Sure you want some coffee with that?  You could just spoon the sugar up directly, like cereal.”

“If I put enough in, it becomes a kind of porridge,” she deadpanned, taking a sip.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

Shepard laughed.  “And I bet you put lemon in your tea.”

“I do like things tart.”  His warm brown eyes sparkled mischievously at her.  Then he broke eye contact and sat up abruptly, clearing his throat.

Her brow furrowed, but before she could ask, Chief Williams slid into the chair beside her, yawning.  “Morning, ma’am, L.T.”

Shepard tried not to look as annoyed as she felt.  _Reason number fifty-three why this is a bad idea._ Then, _I was just having fun.  It wasn’t serious._

“Get some food,” she said brusquely, to Ash.  “The rest are coming over from the ship for a briefing, and then we’ve got a few leads to explore.  I’m hoping we might be able to set out for the lab sometime this afternoon.”

“You might want to wait for tomorrow if it’s that late, Commander,” Alenko said, with almost exaggerated formality.  “Driving through a blizzard in the dark is no joke.”

“Binary Helix’s hot lab is a good six hours away, assuming the roads are clear,” Williams concurred, punching her order into the menu.  “I heard from one of the rent-a-cops that a whole convoy fell off the road last week when the snowpack started sliding out from under them.”

“Avalanche?”  Shepard frowned.  “This place just gets better and better.”

Alenko removed his tea bag.  “Worth the risk.  I didn’t get a lot off the public terminals, but whatever Binary Helix is engineering in that lab, it’s big.  They’re extremely worried about Council scrutiny.  Apparently Saren’s been smoothing things over.”

“Maybe that’s how he got a slot on their board.”  They paused as the server delivered their breakfasts, and took a few minutes arranging silverware and applying condiments.  Shepard spread jam on her toast.  “Too many odd groups have a stake in Saren’s success.  Geth, asari renegades, krogan, human terrorists and corporate interests- I don’t like it.”

“He can’t possibly be telling them the truth, aside from the geth,” Alenko reasoned, cutting up a sausage.  “It’s hard to imagine anyone who isn’t a machine signing on to bring back something like the reapers.”

Shepard made a face.  “It’s hard enough convincing anyone that part of this crisis is serious, let alone take action.”

“So Saren’s going to have the same problem, then.”

Williams shrugged and dug into her waffle.  “I believe that Saren believes it’s true, and the matriarch, and the rest of the people he brainwashed.  I just don’t know that it’s important compared to stopping the attacks on our colonies.  We don’t have any hard evidence yet.”

Shepard and Alenko exchanged a glance.  Of everyone on the crew save Liara, he knew the most about the vision she’d been granted and the nightmares it held.  Enough, evidently, to convince him it was real, but she couldn’t blame Williams for doubting.  In her place, Shepard wasn’t sure she’d believe it either.

Garrus strode to the table, no signs of sleep deprivation and already dressed in his hardsuit.  He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.  “I found this riffraff hanging around the elevator from the docks.”

Liara, Tali, and Wrex trailed behind him, carrying their gear between them along with a heavy gray case.  Shepard’s gaze lit on it at once.  She set down her breakfast and took it from Wrex.  “Go ahead and order.  They’ve got just about everything.”

As they settled in, she thumped the case on a nearby table and examined the locks.  Tali was alarmed.  “You’re not going to open that here?  Shepard, we have no idea what’s inside.  The case could be trapped or worse.”

Alenko peered past the rest.  “That’s your intercepted package?”

“Yep.”  She tried the catch.  It was going to take finesse, not force, to get this suitcase open.  It looked like it could survive being run over by a tank.  “Did the scanners at the dock pick up anything?”

“No.”  Liara bit her lip.  “Tali’s right.  Without knowledge of the contents, prying the package open here represents a significant risk.

Shepard ignored them both.  “Garrus, did you find out anything asking around yesterday?”

“Just that the only person who scares the people around here more than their management is Benezia.  Her arrival stirred things up.” 

“Let me guess.  They were falling all over each other to make her happy?”  She shuffled out of the way as the server reappeared, bearing drinks for the late arrivals.

“There was also something about a pinstriped suit that may have exerted some influence.”  Garrus brought up a security camera still on his omni-tool and leaned over so Shepard could see.  Her eyebrows disappeared into her hair.

“Mother always did know how to turn a head,” Liara stated, a touch bitterly.  She was staring into her tea with a tightly controlled expression.

Shepard flushed, as though she’d been caught at something, though she couldn’t fathom what.  It was only a picture.  “Asari politicians often practice diplomacy by any means.  Benezia does her job well.  We’ll worry about her when we get to the hot labs.”

“About that.”  Wrex’s order amounted to about two pounds of various pan-fried meats, the kitchen not being accustomed to serving many krogan.  His eyes lit on it as the server set it down.  “Do we have any kind of plan to get there?”

“Yes.”  Shepard reluctantly turned away from the stubborn suitcase. “It’s half-assed, but when do we ever do anything full-assed, anyway.”

“I count seven asses here, ma’am.”  Williams tossed off a facetious salute and popped another piece of waffle into her mouth.

“Thank you, Chief.”  Shepard was sardonic.  “I spoke with the manager for Synthetic Insights.  He’s willing to share his illustrious garage privileges if we do him a tiny favor.”

Alenko caught the distaste lurking beneath the sarcasm.  “What kind of favor?”

“The messy kind.”  She sighed and leaned back against the table.  “Tali, Wrex, I want you to suit up.”

Williams and Garrus immediately began to protest.  Shepard held up her hand.  “I don’t want the navy or C-Sec anywhere near this one.  I’ve got some measure of immunity.  Once I start involving other authorities, this turns into a shitstorm real fast.  While we’re gone, try to get this thing open and figure out if the contents relate to Binary Helix or Saren.”

She thumped the suitcase.  Its lead lining buried the sound.  “Any questions?”

“I resigned,” Garrus grumbled.

Shepard looked around the table with raised eyebrows.  “Anyone else?  No?  Good.  We’ll meet upstairs for lunch and go over what we found.”

The krogan and quarian finished their meal and quickly followed Shepard out of the restaurant, Shepard pausing near the corporate elevators to strap on her gear.  Wrex crossed his arms while he waited.  “So what sort of op are we running?”

“Qui’in, the manager, has some dirt on Anoleis.”  Shepard tugged at her boot, ramming the armor into place.  “But before he could move on it, the administrator got wind and shut his office down.  They’ve been tossing it with no success.”

She withdrew the OSD from a pocket and handed it to Tali.  “This should retrieve the information.”

Wrex wasn’t satisfied.  “What’s the catch?  You think this mission’s dirty.”

“The guys Anoleis hired for this job are all ERCS.  Off-duty, but still.  If there’s a body count at the end of this, it won’t look good.”

Wrex sniffed at the air.  “You spend too much time worrying about what looks good.” 

“Goes with the territory.”

Tali shuddered.  “These aren’t geth, Shepard.  Why am I here?”

“In case that OSD doesn’t work.”  She caught her nervous gaze.  “It’s going to be fine, Tali.  If it comes to fighting it’s not any different.  Trust me.”

She drew herself up and nodded.  “The only time I’ve fought people was in that alley, back on the Citadel, when I met you.  I didn’t have a chance to do any fighting when I was shot.”

“And you did more than fine, if I recall.”  A smile tugged at her mouth, remembering Tali’s death grip on her shotgun. 

“You’re both a bunch of pyjacks,” Wrex rumbled.  “Can we fight something now?”

Shepard finished checking over her weapons and straightened, gesturing towards the elevator.  “After you.”

They rode up in silence.  The doors opened on police tape and an armed guard.  Her hardsuit was definitely ERCS gear, as was the rifle in her grip, but all markings were concealed beneath rude swaths of black duct tape.  The guard ambled their way, her gun held ready but pointed at the floor.  “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Are you?” Shepard asked rhetorically.  “Lorik Qui’in gave me permission to enter his offices.”

“We’ve got orders from the administrator.  Nobody goes in or out except for our people.”  But she sounded less certain than before. 

Her coworker, similarly garbed, drew level with the group.  “Is there a problem?”

Shepard applied a little more pressure.  “You’re working off the books.  That makes you trespassers at the least, maybe thieves or worse.  My mandate gives me broad authority for dealing with criminals.”

She shared with them her very best shark smile, the kind that said they better hope she’d already eaten breakfast because it wouldn’t be anything to turn their hides into bacon, and casually drummed her fingers against her pistol. 

Behind her, Wrex chuckled.  “How do you like those odds, kids?”

The pair of guards exchanged a lengthy glance telegraphing their assessment that the ratio of risk to reward had just taken a very sharp rise.  The woman exhaled.  “Fine.  Anoleis isn’t paying us enough to deal with spectres or Alliance or whatever the hell you are.  How about we take our break, stretch our legs, and so long as you’re gone when we get back it’ll stay our little secret.”

“Just between us girls,” Shepard promised, sweetly, her tone an insult.  The look she got in return was quite clearly fuck you, but the guards departed without so much as a grumble.

“That was heavy-handed,” Tali remarked once they were alone.

“I don’t like mercenaries,” she answered without much thought, and corrected herself.  “I don’t like opportunists, especially of the vulture stripe.”

“And you don’t like being pushed around,” she observed dryly.  ERCS hadn’t exactly gone out of their way to make the _Normandy_ crew feel at home. 

Shepard shrugged.  “The universe has a lot of inertia.  I’ve learned to push back hard if I want to make it move.”

Wrex rumbled.  “Also, it’s fun.”

It was, but it didn’t seem noble to say so.  Shepard’s mouth turned up at one corner, just long enough from him to see it.  “Let’s find Qui’in’s office.  The executive suite should be upstairs, overlooking the slope.”

Port Hanshan was built into the side of a mountain.  Its multi-story sheet glass windows took full advantage of the view, even if it was presently marred by the wall of white that was the storm.  The office of the Noveria manager for Synthetic Insights was no different.  Their boots echoed against the stone floor of the spacious, empty room as they walked up the stairs and across the balcony.  Most of the floor space was open, employee workstations not partitioned from one another, though a few smaller offices and conference rooms were enclosed along the right-hand wall. 

Shepard felt a need to fill the stillness.  A place at rest when it should be humming with activity and life almost begged it.  “How’s my project coming, Tali?”

She started.  “Oh!  I nearly forgot.  It’s not going very well, I’m afraid.”

Shepard didn’t miss Wrex’s subtle shift of interest.  She focused on Tali.  “What do you need?”

“I’ve identified the computer system you want from a catalogue of related systems.  However, it’s not connected to the extranet.”  Her eyes narrowed behind the mask.  “The only way I can access is it is if I’m standing on Arcturus.  I’m sure it interfaces with the station’s other systems in some way.”

That gave even Shepard pause.  “So if I get you to Arcturus Station, you can get my information?  Undetected?”

Tali hesitated a few moments, then nodded.  “I think so, yes.  With enough time.”

“How long is enough time?”

“Four hours, maybe a little more.”

Four undisturbed hours fiddling around with Arcturus’ military systems was a tall order, but if Tali said it was so, Shepard believed her.  “I’ll think about it.”

Wrex’s only comment was a faint crinkling of his eyes and the set of his jaw growing perhaps a touch more cynical before he switched the subject.  “You know, those cops downstairs probably ran straight to their superiors.  Better to disable them at the start and buy more time.”

“I thought you’d be disappointed if we left without a real fight,” she said lightly.

They arrived at the office.  The room was lined with high-tech safes and dominated by a single enormous granite desk dwarfing the top-of-the-line terminal that was its sole ornament.  On the wall beside it hung an expensive portrait of a half-grown turian child.  There was, Shepard noted, absolutely no evidence of a partner anywhere in the room.  Apparently high-powered business was about as kind to long-term relationships as special operations. 

The terminal was locked, but not to someone with Tali’s expertise.  She blew through S.I.’s standard security protocols inside ten minutes.  Shepard was impressed.  “I have got to learn how to do that.”

“It’s really not very hard.”  Tali was a bit self-conscious, though she glowed faintly at the praise.  “I can show you some basics when we get back on the ship.”

She inserted the OSD and followed the auto-execute with her eyes.  It parsed through several junk directories before unlocking a hidden series of files, a mix of financial documents, audio recordings, and vids.  The light flashed on the drive as it downloaded the relevant information.  Shepard kept an eye on their exit.  She wasn’t expecting to get away clean- if not here and now, then later, somewhere they weren’t expecting it.  Anoleis knew how to play dirty. 

There was a sound from the balcony.  Shepard drew her pistol and held it in both hands, easing towards the door.  Footsteps.

With a simple signal, Wrex flanked the opposite side of the hatch.  She glanced at Tali, who held up a single finger.  Not long.  Shepard returned her eyes to Wrex and mouthed the countdown.  _Three… two… one…_

They burst onto the walkway with guns raised.  The very surprised moonlighting cop didn’t hesitate before opening fire.  Shepard didn’t much care who was shooting at her; once the bullets started coming in earnest, her only goal was to put a stop to it with as much finality as she could muster.  Her life was no more or less valuable than her attacker’s.  Her first shot shattered his shoulder.  The next went through his head. 

The exchange drew the attention of his back-up.  Wrex charged them, shouldering the first out of the way with enough force to knock him to the ground with the telltale crack of bone on stone.  The second collided with a spray of fire from his shotgun and fell just as easily. 

Shepard followed him with two shots into the fallen man as a matter of course.  She gave the krogan a hard glance.  “Bottom floor.”

He peered over the guard wall to the first level.  A handful of cops fanned out along the perimeter, searching the side rooms.  “We got more company.”

“Rock and roll.”  Shepard headed for the stairs, holstering the pistol and drawing her rifle. 

They took out another rent-a-cop, rounded a partition wall, and came face-to-face with Sergeant Stirling.  Her lip curled.  “You.”

There was no sign of Tali.  Shepard didn’t look away from Stirling.  “I should have expected to find you where it smells like shit.  Does your captain know you’re here?”

The sergeant continued as though she hadn’t heard.  Her pale blue eyes could have been two shards of ice and her voice was deadly calm.  “Anoleis would throw you off world for what you’ve done here.”

“But not you.  You’ve wanted a pound of my flesh since you laid eyes on me.”

Her laugh was bitter, derisive, and held nothing of humor.  The barrel of her rifle never wavered.  She actually took a step forward.  “You spectre types have no respect for the law.   For the people who do the dirty work of holding this galaxy together.  You’re all flash and fame.”

_Ah, so you DO recognize me,_ Shepard thought, but this one pushed a button and circumvented the snark.  “That’s not true.  I’m on this sorry excuse for a planet looking for a spectre who broke the law.”

“Killing cops part of that grand plan?”

“They didn’t give me any choice.  You should have known better than to send them up against a spectre with orders to shoot on sight.”  She was overwhelmed by disbelief.  “Did you really think I wasn’t any good at this?”

Stirling took another step.  “Do you know what they do to cop killers on my world?”

That was the point at which Shepard realized that Stirling wasn’t at home.  Maybe it was the loss of her people, or maybe operating in a place like NDC, which had little to no regard for legalities, drove her out of her head, or something completely unknown but connected within Stirling’s mind.  And for whatever reason she’d chosen to focus that indignation and rage on Shepard.  There was no talking her down from this.

Wrex pumped his shotgun.  “Do you know what I’m going to do to you on this one?”

Shepard shot out her knee without preamble.

Stirling hit the ground with a strangled scream of pain and surprise, losing her grip on the rifle in the process.  She reached for it immediately.  Shepard aimed at her head and kicked it away.  “Don’t.”

The sergeant opened her mouth.  Shepard rode right over.  “Call off your people.  I hear them trying to circle around behind us.”

The blonde stared up defiantly.  Shepard’s finger hugged the trigger.  “Do it, or I use your worthless brains to add a splash of color to the decor.  Then I’ll match it with theirs.”

She clutched at her shattered knee, biting her lip against the pain.  “There’s only three of you.  My squad is flanking you as we speak.”

A high-pitched electronic noise flooded the atrium, and a massive explosion behind partition wall.  Two cops stumbled out of the blast and fell without getting up.  Two shotgun reports followed it, and Tali appeared, carefully stepping over the bodies.  “I got all the ones I could see.  There may be more in the back room.  Their fancy terminals run on batteries- easy to overload.”

“Nice.  You got the data?”

Tali reached into a pocket and held up the OSD.  Shepard smiled.  “You were saying, Stirling?”

The sergeant snarled and lunged for her rifle.  Wrex’s shotgun blast caught her full in the chest and Shepard’s shot a fraction of a second later pinned her body back against the floor.  If anything, her eyes seemed warmer with all the cold light gone out. 

Shepard holstered her gun and looked around at the carnage with a drawn-out breath.  “I don’t think we made any friends today.”

“Who wants to be friendly with people like this?”  Wrex spat.

“Good point.”  All the same, Shepard had no desire to stick around and explain.  “I want a closer look at this data before we hand it over.  Move out.”

They returned to Shepard’s hotel room, ignoring the furtive looks of NDC and its client corporations’ staff as they paraded by in their blood-spattered armor.  Given how inconveniently distant the _Normandy_ and how frigid it was in the docking tube, the remainder of the ground team congregated here to examine the contents of the lead case.  Tali went to join them, as Shepard made use of one of those thick white towels to clean up, and staked out a corner of the bed with the OSD downloading to her datapad.

Liara came and sat beside her, uncertainly.  “Is that the data from Synthetic Insights?”

“Yep.”  Shepard began to browse the first directory.  “If we’re jumping into a pit of snakes, I want to know how hard they’ll bite first.”

“You really do hate all politics, don’t you.  Even the private sector kind.”  It wasn’t much of a question.

Shepard gave her a grudging half-smile, admitting it was true.  “How are you holding up?”

“I wish…”  Liara twisted her hands in her lap.  “I wish my mother trusted me with her work.  If only she’d told me what she planned, perhaps we could have avoided all this.  And now we’re headed to a confrontation.  It’s nearly too much to take in.”

Shepard lowered the datapad and waited for Liara to look up at her.  “She probably wanted to protect you.  You heard Shiala.  Benezia knew this mission was deadly.  I’m not naïve enough to believe there aren’t parents out there who don’t love their children, but nothing about your mother suggests she’s among them.”

“I know.  We just left things so badly…  I don’t know if she’s changed under Saren’s influence.  Maybe she already had.  Who knows how long she’s been playing this game?”

“If you want to stay here when we leave for the labs, I understand.  Nobody would blame you.”

“No.”  Her certainty was earnest, and ironclad.  “I need to hear the truth, from her lips.  And you’ve done nothing but help me since we met.  I won’t abandon you now.”

Shepard shook her head, not liking it, but respecting Liara’s decision.  It wasn’t hers to take away. 

Liara reached for the datapad.  “Here.  I can bring some order to these files.  I have a very useful scanning program for journal articles that should highlight anything of interest.”

“Shepard,” Alenko said from the desk behind her, drawing her attention. 

She let Liara have the datapad and got to her feet.  The suitcase lay open on the desk, surrounded by her squad, its contents nestled in black foam.  Shepard eased between Alenko and Garrus to get a better look.  The room wasn’t very large; seven was a crowd.  She was suddenly quite aware of the lieutenant standing only inches from her back and it was thoroughly distracting.  She’d brush against him if she made too sharp a turn.

“We finally figured out the locks,” Garrus was saying.  “They were keyed to biometric markers.  Expensive stuff.”

_Focus, Nathaly._ “Attuned to the hanar seller or the krogan buyer?”

“Definitely hanar.”  Alenko leaned in over her shoulder to get a better look at the smuggled item.  “It’s some kind of ammo mod?”

The package was deceptively small, definitely the correct size to be mounted around the shaving chamber of most larger firearms, where the gun chipped off tiny wedges of material from a large block to manufacture bullets.  The module could coat or otherwise modify each freshly machined slug to imbue it with additional destructive properties.  While some mods replaced the ammo block entirely- with tungsten, for example, to better penetrate armor- this one was not of that style.  This mod would apply a thin film over the surface, or refine the shape of the bullet to better suit its purpose.  There were almost always trade-offs, like increases in heat generation, slower rates of fire to prep the ammo, or throwing the balance and increasing kickback.

Standard-issue navy gear was wholly unmodified.  Hell, a marine was lucky to requisition a basic scope, much less the kind of hardware she was looking at now.  Many of them bought their own.  Shepard had her own kit, like most, though some of her selections were relatively exotic.  The Alliance tried to restrict mods to reasonable limits but she could never be bothered with rules that interfered with her ability to do her duty.  It was easier to keep the objectionable gear out of sight.

Williams, who had been standing sentinel by the window bored out of her mind, wandered over with renewed interest.  “I don’t recognize it.”

Shepard had an unsettling suspicion.  She plucked it out of the case and turned it over in her hands, then held it up to her nose and sniffed it.

Her crew stared.  An astringent tang not unlike unflavored cough syrup filled her nostrils.  Shepard let out a sigh and tossed it back on the case.  “It paints a radioactive stripe down the side of each bullet.  The binder for the polonium paint has a very distinctive smell.”  She glanced up at the group.  “It’s incredibly toxic.  Even if it doesn’t make you sick straight off, cancers can develop around the wound site months or years later.  Our fancy case here is serving double duty.”

“Aren’t those illegal?”  Alenko asked.

“Not on Tuchanka.”  Wrex laughed.  “Anyone who’d die from radiation is long gone already.”

“Anyone who’s caught with one on the flotilla is subject to exile,” Tali volunteered.

Shepard shook her head.  “They’re not sold openly in Council space, that’s for sure.  And it’s not the sort of thing Binary Helix would research.  Totally different line of work.”

Alenko’s brow furrowed.  “So was getting asked to carry it coincidental, or was someone trying to set you up?”

“I don’t know.  I got the name of the supposed customer, a krogan.  Inamorda.”

Wrex sat back on his heels and crossed his arms.  “I know an Inamorda.  Met him on a job once.  He’s from an inferior clan.  It’s a miracle they still get enough traffic with the female clans to continue existing.”

“Krogan keep turning up alongside Saren’s army.  Could their clan have cut a deal?”

He shrugged.  “Hard to see how the other clans back on the home world would’ve tolerated it, but anything’s possible.”

Reason said it was coincidence.  Her gut said something felt wrong.  “I’m leaving the hanar out of this.  We’ll find this Inamorda and make the delivery ourselves.”

“Shouldn’t be hard,” Alenko said.  “How many krogan can there be on Noveria?”

His face wasn’t more than a half meter from hers as she turned to answer, jammed in as they all were around the desk.  His eyes were a warm brown color, rich like well-polished wood or worn leather.  She hadn’t let herself really notice before.  Whatever she meant to say flew straight out of her head.

Wrex’s own rambling filled the gap before anyone could take note.  “Not damn likely.  This isn’t our kind of place.  Too many prissy negotiations and not enough real work.”

She snapped out of it and redirected her gaze to the weapon mod.  “Good.  You can come with and watch me ‘negotiate’.”

“Humans are one thing, but krogan are harder to scare off.”

Shepard closed the case, careful not to reengage the locks.  “I don’t want to scare him.”  A lopsided smile.  “But I will leave an impression.”

 “Now I want to come,” Williams joked.

“Sorry, I’m keeping this one small.”  She glanced at the clock.  “Get some food.  We’ll find Inamorda and arrange the hand-off with Qui’in.”

Liara stood up from the bed and held out the datapad.  “I ran a quick search.  Jurdon Inamorda arrived the day after my mo- the day after Matriarch Benezia.  His official visit request lists meeting a client on Peak 9, but the storm’s stranded him like everyone else.  Security footage suggests you should find him in the bar.”

Shepard scanned the information, noting that Inamorda’s visit request was approved by Anoleis personally.  That didn’t seem like standard procedure- or, at least, her own paperwork was approved by underlings.  “Thanks.  Maybe it won’t take so long after all.”

Back downstairs, they saw no sign of their turian or krogan quarries, and so they found a table to wait it out.  The hotel had the only bar in Port Hanshan.  Wrex was confident that Inamorda would visit sooner or later.  Shepard fiddled with the end of one of her twin braids.  It wasn’t like they’d fly in her face while she fought; she had no idea why the navy had such a problem with longer hairstyles.  Maybe her spectre appointment could buy her a little less scrutiny, at least when she wasn’t out in front of the whole damn world in her dress blues.  But then she also had a ship full of navy crew, and there was that “setting an example” problem. 

Shepard snorted to herself.  Her mother would burst a vein if she got wind of her daughter slacking off on protocol.

“Nervous, Shepard?” Wrex asked.  There was that particular gleam in his red eyes, the one he always got when he sensed weakness.  She wasn’t sure if it was a krogan thing, a predator thing, or just a Wrex thing, or even whether it was conscious.

“Just thinking what my mom would say if she caught me with my hair out of regulation on duty.”  She sprawled back in the chair and dragged her fingertip along a crack in the tabletop.  “Captain Shepard believes strongly in toeing the line.”

“Tradition will be the death of us,” Wrex opined with dry cynicism.  “My father was stuck in the past, too.”

Shepard drummed her fingers on the table, scanning the crowd.  The three martini lunch appeared alive and well on Noveria.  Off-handedly, she said, “You mentioned he tried to kill you.”

“Yeah.”  He sat back, also watching the other patrons with narrowed eyes.  “Almost succeeded, too.  Of course, he had a small army waiting to ambush me.  Hiding in the graves of our dead like honorless pyjacks.”  Wrex spat.  “He ate my knife before I left though.  Fitting parting gift from me to Tuchanka.”

Qui’in still hadn’t arrived, nor had any krogan.  She sipped at her glass of water, and set it back down beside the remains of her sandwich.  Wrex was only pretending not to care, and that was rare for him, though he bore no trace of regret.  “You haven’t been back?”

“Why bother?  Bunch of idiots convinced the best thing for our people is another goddamn war.  That’s the same thing as suicide with the genophage on us.”

“I thought krogan loved nothing better than a good fight.”

“Sure.  But it’s not worth wiping out our entire species.”  His massive head turned towards her, his lip curled.  “We can’t replenish our numbers quickly enough for war.  Just one generation, we needed to focus on breeding.  Warlord Jarrod… my father… disagreed.”

“So it would seem.”  She tilted her head.  “You ever think about trying to persuade anyone else?”

He studied her, his expression inscrutable, before turning back to the wider room.  “This was three hundred years ago.  Who cares anymore.”

Shepard shrugged and likewise returned to waiting.  Still no sign of Inamorda.  “Long time to hold a grudge.”

“I’d think you’d know something about that.”

“I have mistakes, not grudges.  Big difference.”  A smile, thin and fleeting.  “You learn from a mistake.  A grudge learns from you.  Grows up, grows teeth, and sinks them into parts you didn’t even know you had.”

He raised his snout and crossed his arms.  “Krogan families aren’t like human.  We spend our childhoods with the female clan.  And we’re expected to grow up strong.  I’ve seen your vids. My father didn’t tuck me into bed.  I didn’t even know him well until after I’d passed through the rites.  You kill one lousy thresher maw and suddenly warlords and clan chiefs want your attention.  Heh.” 

A broad, self-satisfied grin crossed his face.  Shepard sat back.  “One day I’m going to kill me one of those worms, see if it’s as hard as you like to tell it.”

“Nobody’s done it on Tuchanka since my kraant took one out.  And your species is kind of squishy, Shepard.”  He laughed.  “ _Normandy’s_ forward battery doesn’t count.”

“That’d go on Joker’s tally anyway.  Nah, I’ll do it up close.  I owe them a little payback.”

His laughter went on longer that time, though at her naivety or audacity Shepard had no clue.  Water was beginning to bead on the sides of the glass and roll down to the stone surface, leaving a ring.  She moved the glass and amused herself for several quiet minutes by doodling patterns with the liquid, quickly evaporating into nothing.  Wrex shifted impatiently in his chair.  It creaked ominously under his considerable weight. 

The lunch crowd thinned into casual afternoon meetings and people taking off work early.  Shepard was figuring out that the hotel’s bar was bustling thanks to the storm, hosting a number of snowed-in scientists, managers, and facility staff with little else to do.  There was an air of uncommon camaraderie amongst them as staff from disparate or even competitor companies met to drink and grouse.  With the exception of the alcohol it wasn’t all that different from a navy mess hall on one of those small colonies the batarians loved to visit in the days before Torfan, the easy feeling of people fighting similar battles coupled with the anxiety of not knowing when it would all go back to hell.  These people were friends for the moment, but soon they’d return to their dangerous, questionable experiments and cut-throat ladder climbing.  The blizzard was a reprieve.

Shepard respected research but had difficulty respecting this.  They invented their own risks, this phenomenal manufactured stress, and for what?  To increase the profits of a few already insanely profitable corporations a couple fractions of a percentage?  And she didn’t like the way they were threading loopholes in laws and exploiting Colonial Affairs’ stretched resources to do it.

But she also knew something Garrus, Williams, and the rest were still learning- nobody could change everything.  Nobody had that much ammo or concentration.  The artful part was in choosing which to let go, and in occasionally trusting someone else, like her superiors or the laws of parliament, to make that choice for her when they had better information or more experience.  Anything else led to a place where she started thinking hers was the only voice that mattered.  No matter how she might joke, she didn’t really believe the galaxy would be a better place as ruled by Queen Nathaly.

If she were honest, that was also what rubbed her the wrong way about the Council.  No three people should possess that much power.  That a triumvirate could adequately appreciate, let alone represent, the needs of a dozen species, from colonies to space stations to homeworlds, wealthy, struggling, old and young- it was unfathomable.  Even they knew they couldn’t do it.  That was why they’d created special tactics and reconnaissance, because the only way to approach the task under the current system was by the dirty road.

The light from the communal area of Port Hanshan streaming through the door was momentarily cut off as a massive, armored patron entered the bar.  Shepard got Wrex’s attention by kicking at his leg; he was as bored as she.  “Think that’s our man?”

They watched the krogan amble towards a high top table upstairs and place an order.  He leaned against it while he waited, causing it to tilt alarmingly, and turned his face towards them as he surveyed the room.

“It’s him,” Wrex said with certainty, his hand straying to the shotgun at the small of his back without conscious thought.

“Easy,” she cautioned.  “This could be nothing.  No point in blazing guns in an enclosed place full of civilians.”

“He’s a bounty hunter.  He’ll shoot first if I don’t get something in under the table,” he grumbled, but left the weapon where it was.

Shepard picked up the case as she hopped down from her chair.  Inamorda was cradling a thick-walled ceramic mug, filled to the brim with something unrecognizable.  He looked her up and down before his eyes flashed to her companion.  “A human weakling and the famous Urdnot Wrex.  Your standards have dropped.  What in the hell do you want?”

Shepard didn’t wait for Wrex to answer.  She jerked her chin at the cup.  “What’re you drinking?”

“Human blood, with cinnamon,” Inamorda answered promptly, with an unsettling grin.

Without breaking eye contact, Shepard seized the mug and took a healthy draw.  It burned like thermite down her throat and settled in the pit of her stomach with all the dark promise of a singularity, but she only licked her lips and set it back on the table.  “A little sharp for cinnamon.”

Inamorda stared at her, his jaw dropping slightly.  Even Wrex was taken aback.  “That’s ryncol!”

“Is it?  Never had it before.”

The krogan exchanged looks of disbelief.  Wrex spoke first.  “You should be on the ground babbling nonsense.  That stuff hits aliens like a tomkah with the accelerator jammed.”

Inamorda started laughing and took a drink himself.  “I like you, human.  Have a seat.”

Shepard took station opposite him at the table and laid her case on the surface.  He eyed it with some interest.  “What’s that?”

“My name is Shepard.  I need to ask you about the contents of this case.”

“You’re the spectre come looking for Saren.”  The grin faded.  He shot Wrex a look.  “Never thought to find you in the company of Council toadies.  Maybe all that crap about standing down from our traditions ran deeper than we thought.” 

Wrex made a noise like a growl.  His mouth was a long flat gash in his face.  Shepard turned back to Inamorda.  “Your genophage problem isn’t going to cure itself.”

“No.  It won’t.”  He pointed a finger squarely at Wrex’s chest.  “And this pyjack tried to convince the clans to do exactly that.  Huddle down and try to make enough babies to keep from dying out.  That’s a woman’s way to go.  We’re krogan. We go down fighting.  That’s how it’s always been.  But this fool would have us die like varren.”  He snorted.  “The warlord calls him to a Crush to stop this nonsense, and he knifes him, right there in the Hollows on sacred ground.  Granted, we were all shocked he even had the honor to show up-“

He might have carried on, but at that moment Wrex let out a massive grunt and threw his skull forward, knocking his head plate against Inamorda’s with enough force to send the other krogan sprawling back against the barricade guarding them from falling to the lower floor.  His arms flailed over the railing.

Before he could get his bearings, Wrex levered a hand against his hump and drove his face down into the table.  Shepard drew back the lead-shielded case just in time. 

Inamorda chuckled as blood ran out his nose.  “Most of us manage to make our way as mercs without forgetting who we are.”

“I know damn well who I am.  And I’m done helping idiots figure out how to keep our species alive.”

“This is all very amusing,” Shepard said with thinning patience, folding her hands on the table as calm as anything.  “But we can discuss ancient history some other time.  I’m working on a schedule here.”

The pinned krogan snorted, spewing another clot of blood onto the table.  “Don’t get me started on taking orders from a-“

Wrex slammed his head into the table again.  Not once in all this violence had he raised his voice though half the bar was staring.  “I’m doing her a favor, because she’s got more honor in her toes than you’ve got in your whole body, and a quad bottom-feeders like Clan Jurdon can only dream of.”

“She’s a _human female_!”  It was difficult to tell which attribute Inamorda held in higher disdain.

“Accident of birth.  Can’t blame her for that.”  Wrex held him to the table with a painful grasp.

Shepard spun the case and flicked it open, careful to hide the contents from their spectators.  Her voice stayed low, inaudible from a distance.  “You recognize this?”

He grunted contempt.  She fixed him with a frigid glare.  “I’m allowing Wrex the courtesy of taking out his own trash, as friends do.  Don’t force me to get involved.  You won’t like it.”

Either he had enough of the game or he believed her, because he gave a straight answer.  “It’s my shipment.  I don’t want to know how you got it.”

“Why did you buy it?”

“I was hired as insurance after the flag went up on Peak 15.  But my shuttle was delayed.  Saren’s bitch had already gone up.”  He coughed.  “They’ve got some kind of new species up there.  That’s why I needed special rounds.  The mod was supposed to be waiting when I got here.”

That explained why the hanar was so nervous.  “Who hired you?”

“Saren’s people, who do you think?  They say he doesn’t like her commandos.  Thinks they’re too cagey.  So sometimes he pads her protection roster.” 

Wrex made a sound of surprise.  “Working for that turian is a death sentence.”

“No.”  Inamorda smiled.  “He’s going to cure the genophage.”

Shepard was unnerved by his conviction, but gave that bit of insanity all the credit it deserved.  She jerked her head at Wrex, who reluctantly eased off, and shut the case, holding it out to the bounty hunter with a taunting smile.  “Now, was that so hard?”

“You’re… giving me the merchandise?”

“You paid for it.”  Shepard shrugged.  There was no point in detaining him.  A random merc hire wouldn’t know anything valuable.  “If Saren thinks you need gear like that to take on whatever he’s keeping on Peak 15, you’re going to need it.”

“You’re a strange one.”  He took the case, and there was a shade of respect mixed with the anger in his eyes before he walked away.  Gradually, the volume rose again as the patrons went back to their own business.

Shepard reached across the table and took another sip of the ryncol.  Once you got passed the sensation that the skin of your tongue had been etched away by pure acid, it wasn’t half bad.  She raised an eyebrow at Wrex over the rim.  “’Tried to convince the clans’?”

He was almost embarrassed, glancing at the ground.  “Yeah, well, that was a long time ago.”

“What made you stop?”

“Nobody wanted to listen.”  Wrex, too, gulped at the remains of the drink.  “This is how I know yelling to the Council about reapers is pointless.  Nobody wants to hear any truth except what pleases them.”

She ran a hand over her hair, working her fingers through the strands under her braids.  The unfamiliar hairdo was pulling on her scalp.  “At least the people around here might give us fewer hassles after that display.”

Wrex had other things on his mind.  He was silent, before voicing the question abruptly.  “Do you think what he said about the genophage is true?”

“No.  Saren wants one thing, and it has nothing to do with helping anybody.”  Shepard sighed.  “It does explain why we’ve had krogan hounding us at every turn, though.”

He grunted and took another drink.  She rubbed the side of her nose, her turn to be self-conscious.  “Thanks, by the way.  For what you said.”

“I’ll never forget you walking into that interrogation in C-Sec and laughing at us.  Reminded me of the female clan leaders back home.  They never put up with hot air either.”  He looked away.  “We’ve fought together now.  Truth is, this is the first time since I left Tuchanka that I feel like I’ve got people watching my back.”

Shepard had been there.  She didn’t like admitting it any more than him.  “I know what you mean.  There’s something about this ship.”

“It’s just a damned boat.”

“I sent my dad a picture of it.  Figured it couldn’t be all that classified if we’re parking it in the middle of the frigging Citadel.  He congratulated me on finally discovering a way to actually take up residence in a sports car.”

“Alright, so it’s not a boat, but you know what I mean.”  He picked up the ceramic cup.  “I think I’m going to hang around here for a while.”

She left him in the lounge and returned to her room, changed out of her hardsuit, and grabbed a quick shower to rinse off the last of that morning’s fight.  A browse through NDC’s extranet site got her contact information for Loriq Qui’in, and one call later they had arrangements to meet that evening and make the exchange.  Until then, Shepard had little to do but wait.  Qui’in would get her garage pass.  Kaidan was right; it was too late to leave today, but at first light tomorrow they’d roll out.  As an afterthought, she arranged a strategy session following her meeting with the S.I. manager and also alerted the mechanic, Li, that she’d likely be needing a few of his Makos the following day.

The shower might have cleaned her up, but her suit was another story.  She spread one of the mammoth towels out on the floor and lay the pieces on top of it, working at the grime with the stiff brush that was designed for attending to the ceramic plating.  Bits of dried blood drifted from the brush to the towel where she scrubbed.  The room was silent except for the low rasping sound of the bristles scratching over the surface. 

The moment of relaxation came welcome.  For all that Port Hanshan was brimming with people and politics almost deliberately fashioned to offer maximum interference with her mission, a part of her was glad of the chance to stop and catch her breath, just for a little bit.  Every marine recruit was drilled over and over and over again on how to maintain their hardsuit, until they could do it one-armed and half-dead, if necessary, but after eleven years she still didn’t find it a chore.  It reminded her of long afternoons with her father, taking apart engines to see how they worked, and provided a ribbon of continuity through all her experiences.  No matter where or when or what was happening, the suit always needed cleaning, calibrating, and a good dose of fresh omni-gel.  Its demands were predictable and easy to satisfy.

She wondered what would happen after it was over.  The spectre thing wasn’t a temporary assignment, even if she’d accepted the post more out of a sense of expediency than desire.  The Citadel was sure as hell nicer than Arcturus- if she could afford to live there.  Spectres didn’t exactly get much of a stipend, and she doubted living quarters were a reimbursable expense.  Maybe she could live out of her tiny office, or a motel, or something, until she got her bearings.  It wasn’t like her personal belongings back in her apartment on base would fill more than a duffle bag anyhow.  

If Hackett’s approach was anything to go by, the navy wasn’t through giving her orders, though Shepard doubted it would fill all her time.  Spectres were expected to find situations that stank and poke their nose in, loosely directed by the Council.  It wasn’t like she didn’t find five things a day that merited a deeper look.  With a little luck and a good word from Anderson, the Alliance would likely allow her to continue using the _Normandy_ as a base of operations.  Thinking of the ship under anyone else’s command was unsettling, more than it should have been.  Ships changed hands all the time.  They were a resource, not a personal possession. 

But damn it, this was her ship.  From bow to stern and all three decks.  She felt comfortable there in a way she didn’t in her apartment, or this hotel room, or even her parents’ house.  It was impossible to rationalize.

Shepard plugged the suit into her datapad and initiated a standard diagnostic routine.  The crew was exceptional as well.  Everyone got along.  Everyone was focused and working to the best of their ability towards their common goal.  Pressly’s X.O. duties in that regard were light- just as well seeing as the man had the interpersonal skills of a concussed goose. 

Her omni-tool blinked.  “Shepard.”

“Spectre, this is Gianna Parasini.  I think we should talk.”

There was no stretch in guessing why.  “I don’t think we have much to say to each other.  In another day or three I’ll be out of your hair and you can start cleaning up.”

“I know what happened at Synthetic Insights.  Those were ERCS personnel.”

“Moonlighters for your boss, taking pay under the table.”  A smug smile.  “Or so I heard.”

Parasini didn’t bat an eye.  “I know what you were after, and I think you got it.”

“Why?”

“I doubt you would have left so soon otherwise.”  She was professional, each word enunciated without inflection.  “I’m only asking for five minutes of your time, before you speak with Qui’in.  There’s more to this than you understand.  If you don’t like my offer you can walk.”

Her instinct said to invite the secretary to go to hell, but her brain said wait.  Shepard pursed her lips.  “Five minutes.  1900 by the elevator entrance to the hotel restaurant.  If you can’t get there until 1901, don’t bother.”

“Understood, spectre.”  Parasini cut the call. 

Shepard turned back to her suit maintenance without a second thought.

/\/\/\/\/\

As seven o’clock drew near, Shepard headed for the elevators and found Williams and Alenko waiting in the lobby.  There was a momentary confusion, as she was certain she hadn’t invited either crewman to her meeting with Qui’in.

It must have shown on her face, because Williams volunteered, “I’m on my way down for a bite to eat before talking strategy.  You got the pass?”

“I’ll have it by then.”  She turned to Alenko.  “You hungry too?”

“Not me.  I met the guy whose job is to patrol around the catwalk at the top of the building every night.  Perimeter check, standard security stuff.  I asked if I could come along and take a look.  Bet the view’s spectacular.”  He sounded excited.

Shepard was baffled.  “It’s still snowing like crazy.”

“How often do you get a chance to feel the wind in your hair or the snow on your face, deployed to a ship?  Anyway, apparently you can still see enough to make it worth sending someone up to check.”

Williams shook her head.  “Something is not right with you, L.T.”

He smiled at the door.  “I’m ok with that.”

The elevator took them down to the main level, where it was a short walk to the bar.  Parasini was already waiting, dressed in slick purple today, her hazel eyes darting around.  “Shepard.”

Ignoring the questioning looks of her crew, she sidled up to the secretary and crossed her arms.  “Talk fast.”

She took a breath and extended her hand.  “It’s time we met properly.  Detective Gianna Parasini, Noveria Development Corporation, Department of Internal Affairs.”

There was none of the aloof, calculating, aim-to-please assistant left about her.  In its place was a determined woman with a confident manner and a quirking mouth.  Shepard shook her hand automatically.  “Alright, I’ll admit I didn’t see that coming.  You work internal security for NDC?”

“Yes.”  She kept her voice low, wary of being overheard.  “I’ve been investigating Anoleis for nearly ten months, the last six undercover as his secretary.  We’re wise to his extortion racket, and that data you collected is the proof I need to bring this matter to a close.”

Shepard’s hand went to her pocket, fingering the OSD.  “I thought corruption was celebrated in Port Hanshan.”

“We don’t care what anyone does so long as business isn’t hurt.  Anoleis is driving clients away.  Not even our executive board will tolerate that.”

“I need that garage pass.  Your political squabbles are a waste of my time, and I’m not sorry to say it.” 

“Convince Qui’in to testify before the Board, and I’ll be certain you get it.

“You can’t be serious.”  Shepard was in complete disbelief.  “If you had any respect for how dangerous things are for our colonists right now, you’d have sent me to Peak 15 when I arrived instead of forcing me to jump through these ridiculous hoops.”

“Fate of billions and all that.  I couldn’t possibly understand how important _your_ work is.”  Parasini rolled her eyes.  “Spectre-“

Shepard had enough.  “In ten minutes, I’ll have what I need.  You can try to convince him yourself once he has this OSD.  I’m done dancing for you.”

“I’m Anoleis’ secretary!” she protested.  “You think he’s going to believe me?  He’ll read it as a last-ditch attempt by the Administrator to seize those records.”

Parasini grabbed her arm as she started to go, one final pitch.  “You’ve got some inkling of what this place can do.  Is it in anyone’s best interest that someone as corruptible and small-minded as Anoleis remain in charge?”

Shepard started to tell her exactly where she could stuff her pretense of ethics, when Alenko coughed quietly.  “It’s the right thing to do, Commander.  You know it is.”

She looked back at him, biting her lip, Parasini’s grip firm on her arm.  He continued, in that perfectly reasonable tone that was so hard to argue against.  “It’s not like we can roll out of here tonight anyway, so it won’t cost us any time, and you never know when we might be back here.  It’d be nice to have a friendlier reception.”

She glanced back at Parasini’s earnest face, and gave her arm a jerk to free it.  “Alright, L.T.  But you’re coming with me, and I hope to hell you have an argument that’ll work on Qui’in.”

Shepard stalked off, thoroughly annoyed, and Alenko shrugged an apology to Parasini before following in her wake.  The internal affairs officer crossed her arms and watched them go, not without a measure of cynical surprise, before sliding her eyes back to Williams.  “Not exactly usual, gainsaying a superior officer and getting away with it.”

“Not in my experience, ma’am.”

“So,” Parasini said, conversationally, as if they were making small talk, “Just how long has the spectre been banging her lieutenant?”

“Hell,” Ash said, rolling her eyes and likewise folding her arms.  “I wish they would just get it over with.  It’d be a lot less awkward around here.”

Across the bar, it didn’t take long for Shepard to locate Qui’in, seated in the same booth as before, just as hopelessly inspecting the menu.  He folded it as they sat.  “Ah, Spectre.  I was beginning to wonder if you’d lost your nerve and sold me out.”

“You’re one of the few people here willing to work with me,” she said frankly.  “I wouldn’t trust my other options to hold up their end.”

“Yet you do trust me.  Interesting.”

“Let’s just say you’re the least unreliable.”  She pulled out the OSD and held it up in her palm.  “Your information.”

“Perfect.”  He reached for it, and she drew back a bit.  His eyes narrowed.  “Do we have a deal, or no?”

“There’s been a glitch.  An agent from Hanshan’s internal affairs got wind of our bargain, and approached me.”  Shepard took a breath.  “She… ‘requested’ your testimony before the board of directors.”

Qui’in’s anger was immediate.  “You’re withholding my property so that you can dictate how I use it?  I thought you were a reasonable person, Shepard.”

“Damn right I am.”  She slapped her free hand flat on the table.  “This nonsense, this- this _circus_ of a company has threaded every loophole our legal system possesses.  You’ve made an art of it.  This one I can stop.”

He leaned forward, eyes dark.  “You’re no auditor, and this affair has nothing to do with your work.”

Alenko folded his hands.  “Look, everyone in this port is chafing under Anoleis’ bribes.  They might toe the line in public, but in private, amongst each other, they’ll be singing your praises.”

“My company relies on the goodwill of the Executive Board-“

Shepard pressed him.  “You’re never going to have a bigger opportunity to earn their favor.  C’mon, Qui’in.  The board was already investigating Anoleis.  You’re delivering the goods they need to clean house.  They’ll be falling all over themselves to do you a favor.”

“Not to mention you’re going to make an internal affairs agent look really good on her performance review,” Alenko added.  “She’ll remember that.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Shepard promised.

He looked from one of them to the other, before dropping his head into his hands and rubbing his eyes, issuing a long-suffering sigh.  “You’ve made your case.  I doubt I have much choice anyway.  Let your… IA friend know I’ll be waiting.”

“Excellent.”  Shepard flashed him a bright smile, mostly genuine, and pushed the OSD towards his side of the booth.  “A pleasure meeting you.”

“Quite.”  He took the drive, weighing it in his hands.  “Shepard.”

She looked over her shoulder.  “What?”

“If you tire of doing the Council’s dirty work, give me a call.  Synthetic Insights is also looking for… resourceful people.”  His smile had a razor edge.  “You could go far in business.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she lied, shortly, and left him to his thoughts.

She walked to the door with Alenko without any conscious direction, her mind on the next step of their plan.  They’d need two Makos, which meant one would have to squeeze four, but that was alright.  Supplies… how far was Peak 15?  Six hours, Williams guessed?  Liara would know by now…

“Shepard?” Alenko asked, breaking into her musing.  His brow was furrowed.

She blinked.  “Sorry, what?”

“You were off in your own world there.”  He smiled.  “I asked if you wanted to tag along, or if there was somewhere else you were headed.”

Shepard abruptly realized she’d followed him halfway across the port, leaving her rather chagrined and grasping after the conversation.  “Just thinking about tomorrow.  Sure, I’d love to come.”

He was surprised, but pleased.  “Hey, great.”

“Don’t look so shocked.”  They resumed walking towards the garage, the location of the service access. 

“You do have strong feelings on weather.”

Which was when she remembered exactly where he was going, and recognized that she’d just agreed to go stand in a full-scale blizzard ‘admiring the view’.  _Shit._ But now it would be awkward if she backed out, so she mustered what she hoped seemed like enthusiasm.  “Maybe we’ll get a glimpse at this Peak 15.  It would be nice to know where we’re going.”

By the time they reached the service ladder, she was almost enjoying the notion.  He was reminiscing about great storms of the past in Vancouver, and it was hard not to find snowed-in days filled with steaming mugs, cancelled obligations, and neighborly company a little charming. 

“Heavier in the interior, of course,” he said, continuing his rambling monologue without breaking stride.  “We usually spent winter holidays at my uncle’s farm.  Well, orchard.  Letting a couple chickens roam through the trees isn’t really a farm.”

She didn’t mind.  She liked listening to him go on like this, about a home he loved and a land-bound culture of sorts she didn’t fully understand.  It made her feel warm, almost like some of the heat from his glowing descriptions got inside her despite the cool hallways.

They entered a room no larger than a walk-in closet and found a broad-shouldered man shrugging into one of the parkas lining a rack against the wall.  In cubbies above them sat protective goggles, thick gloves, hats, and scarves.  Boots in a variety of sizes were arrayed below.  All of the equipment was an eye-watering shade of neon orange- the better to see against the snow, she guessed.

“Hey, Owens.” Alenko gave him a wave.  “Got room for one more?”

He glanced back at Shepard.  Owens’ face was a stripe of ebony punctuated by two dark eyes between the hat and the coat’s neck flap.  He opened it to speak freely.  “You didn’t mention you were working with the spectre.”

“Is that a problem?” Shepard asked, mildly.  She wouldn’t be sorry to see the excursion canceled, but she felt badly for Kaidan, who was looking forward to it.

Those deep eyes studied her for a prolonged moment.  “Not for me.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “Your management didn’t send out a persona non grata?”

“They sent it all right.  I just don’t give a damn.”  Owens shrugged, his mouth a hard line of disapproval.  “Seems like you’re the only one around here who doesn’t see this war as an opportunity.  My brother was a marine on Eden Prime.  So if you want a look at the roof- all I have to say is, yes ma’am.”

She paused, and nodded her respect.  “It was hell down there.  I’m sorry for your loss.”

“That means a lot coming from you.”  He gestured at the gear and re-sealed the flap, muffling his voice.  “Get kitted up.  Grab whatever fits- it’s all open season here.”

Shepard sat on the floor, removed her shoes, and started pulling on a pair of snow boots.  “What was your brother’s name?”

“Sergeant Wayne Owens, 232nd Brigade, SAMC,” he recited with a touch of pride.

“I’ve run into my share of 232ers.  Good men all.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Owens watched them finish outfitting themselves, and made a few expert adjustments to their gear- a few more, perhaps, to Shepard than Alenko, she noted sourly.  Her lack of experience pricked at her ego.

They followed the burly man up the ladder, a significant climb in its own right, and onto a suspended walkway hanging from the ceiling.  It swayed as they walked its length to an access hatch, no more than 150 centimeters tall, and held shut by a vast wheel like on the submarines of old.  Owens spun it with the ease of long practice, ignoring its rusty squeal, and shouldered it open against the wind.  A gust of snow smattered over the walkway as he held it open.

Both marines ducked through the hatch and out into a world of swirling white punctuated by brief lances of sundown light and glimpses of distant hills.  Shepard had only a moment to wonder at it before the wind smacked her against the wall and scoured a patch of cheek exposed by her climb with razor-sharp ice crystals.

She yelped and tugged the scarf back into place.  Naturally, this exposed a new area, and by the time she was through, the whole thing was altogether too loose and strands of copper hair were flying free of her hood with an electrostatic crackle.  Shepard caught the laughter of her companions on the wind.

“To hell with both of you,” she said crossly, which only invited more laughter, so she ignored them and crossed the scant meter to the catwalk’s railing.  It hugged the side of the Port Hanshan main building like a wedding ring.  If she reached up, her fingers could curl around the lip of the roof, crusted with cakey ice. 

Once she got used to the driving snow and the white film it put over her sight, her curiosity stood up in unexpected awe.  It reminded her of the earthquake back on Therum, if a pale imitation- an ancient and wholly natural, unthinking phenomenon that nonetheless defied every human attempt to tame it.  Their starships could cross the galaxy in a matter of days but they remained as helpless as ever in the face of planetary wrath.  Her feet strayed closer to the guardrail and she shouted over the storm.  “This is incredible.”

She couldn’t see any of Alenko’s face behind the goggles and the scarf and the rest of it, but she got the sense that he was grinning as he joined her, looking over the side as much as could be dared in the high wind.  Owens’ chuckle carried.  “We get about ten of these big mothers a year.  It’s not so bad towards the ground.”

“This is my first,” she yelled.  “I’ve lived in space my whole life.  Never been snowed on.”

‘This is a hell of an introduction.”  He withdrew an electronic instrument from his pocket and flicked it on.  “I need to complete my inspection.  Feel free to poke around.”

Owens ambled down the catwalk and was soon lost behind the wall of white, leaving them quite alone in the world. 

She expected it would feel cold and dead and dark, this kind of storm, and certainly through the massive panes of Port Hanshan’s windows this was the case as it thrashed in silent fury.  But out here it was the furthest from dead a thing could be.  The wind rolled her back and forth like an oversized dog sniffing at a new toy, its tendrils tugging at her hood and hair with open mischief.  Currents of snow floated on eddies in torrents at turns soft as dew and unrelentingly hard.  The setting sun’s reddish-yellow glow backlit the snowfall and made it all seem warmer than it was, reflecting off the occasional glimpse of the mountainside far below.  And the sound!  It sang and whistled, moaned and screamed, as if it were having a conversation with itself, or perhaps with the square stubborn building it embraced.

It made her want to take readings, capture its playful fury, find new ways to test its strength.  Though rationally she was aware it would eat her alive, a part of her could not help but wonder if there was some means, some apparatus, that might allow her to drift on the currents as easily as one of its snowflakes, to really feel it in her limbs and bones…

Shepard could feel Kaidan watching her despite the swirling snow and the massive gold-tinged goggles they each sported.  They stood out like parrots in their orange parkas.  He leaned closer, at once muffled by his gear and loud to compensate for the wind.  The quality wasn’t unlike talking helmet-to-helmet during a comm blackout, touching your neighbor to communicate through vibrations.  “Well?”

At a loss to describe it, she flashed him an elated grin, high on the storm’s own energy, and leaned as far over the rail as she dared, trying to see all the way down the slope.  The snow spiraled in one cascade after another down into the depths of the valley.  It was almost dancing. 

A particularly nasty gust tore off her hood and for a fractional second questioned her balance.  She felt her stomach drop out even as she knew there was no real danger of capitulating over, and then there were hands at her back and shoulder, pushing her firmly back to the ground.  Her face turned towards him, amused, as her rapidly-unraveling braids whipped about her head.  “I’m not going to fall.”

“No,” he said firmly, not removing his hand from the small of her back.  “You’re not.”

The slight show of protectiveness should have grated, but for some reason did not, perhaps because it wasn’t in the least bit patronizing.  She had been gaping over the railing like a lemming in mid-leap.  Shepard shifted closer to him and he did not move away.  “Is it like this in Vancouver?”

“Not like this.  Never seen one of these from the top of a mountain.”  His tone reflected the same wonder she was feeling, not a thought for the cold and only half of one for the risk of standing so high and exposed.  “You really never felt snow before?”

She shook her head.  Crackly bits of ice were beginning to form around the seals of her mask, irritating her skin with cold fire.  “Not a lot of precipitation on Mars.”

“Shame.  No sledding as a kid, no skiing.”  His volume rose with the wind.  “While you’re here, you should eat some of it.”

“ _Eat_ it?”  Shepard was certain she hadn’t heard him right.

“No water tastes better than freshly fallen snow.”

“It’s Noveria snow.  It’s probably radioactive.”  But she pulled down her scarf and opened her mouth to the wind, feeling the flakes drift onto her tongue and trickle under it in cool streams of crisp water, just warm enough to swallow.  She shivered despite herself as it hit the back of her teeth.

Her omni-tool beeped, a fifteen-minute warning ahead of her strategy session.  She frowned her disappointment, but held it up so Alenko could see.  He nodded, and they turned back inside.

With the hatch shut behind them, the absence of the groaning storm seemed as quiet as a tomb.  Every clanking step against the metal walkway sounded impossibly loud.  Her face and ears burned in the sudden heat, quickly beginning to prickle and itch with the temperature adjustment.  She rubbed them mercilessly.

Alenko raised his mask to his forehead and lowered the scarf clear of his chin, brushing off the snow clinging to the parka.  As he turned towards her, he was unable to keep from laughing. 

She stopped scratching and eyed him.  “What?”

He swallowed, gestured towards her, let out another chuckle, and was finally able to speak.  “You look like a snow witch.”

Suspicious, she activated her omni-tool camera and aimed it towards herself.  It showed an image of a woman with furry snow and the occasional chunk of ice clinging to every strand of hair on her head, streaky red where it began to melt.  There was a snow line clear around her goggles and her cheeks were rubbed raw.  Her ears were so bright they were nearly a brick red, no natural color. 

She removed the mask and tried to shake off most of the snow.  Mostly, she succeeded in dislodging a few icicles and striking herself with the remnants of her braids.  Kaidan leaned up against the wall, hands stuffed in the parka pockets and a small smile on his face that made her warm and shy all at once. 

“Thank you,” she said, stumbling, for lack of anything else coming to mind.  “That was… exhilarating.”

“If I’d known you’d like a snowstorm that much, I’d have asked you along in the first place.”  There was a hint of teasing, as if he were goading her for her preferences.

“Not that I want to do it often,” she quickly added.  “It’s good to experience new things.  No need to live in them.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who got so carried away that I’m dripping all over the floor.”

“I did not get carried away,” she said, grinning because she had, and it was wonderful.

“Adrenaline junkie,” he grumbled.

She raised her eyebrows.  “Are you really that shocked?”

“No, I kind of got that from the way you make bats out of hell look like restrained, conscientious drivers.”  He gestured towards the ladder, allowing her to head down first.

All the way to the ground, she kept remembering that last gust, the brief instinctive fear of falling with all its terrible freedom, the wind singing in her ears, the pressure of his hand against her spine just where it started to curve through all the layers of her parka, and even as sour shampoo-tasting water ran from her hair down her face, she couldn’t keep from smiling.


	36. Up the Mountainside

Li, the turian mechanic, knew how to get things done.  Shepard liked that.

They arrived at the garage as soon as the sun was high enough to stare down between the jagged teeth of the mountains and shine on their road.  It wasn’t more than a trickle of light; the storm was far from blown out.  A long drive lay ahead.  Six hours was an optimistic estimate for perfect weather, perfect roads.  Even with a blazing blue sky there would still be snow and rock falls blocking portions of the road, crumbled patches of perma-ice…  Makos were built for rugged terrain but the path was narrow and the ravines were deep.

Li shouted to one of his workers, who nodded and crawled under the nearest Mako, and ambled towards Shepard’s squad.  “Spectre.  Got your message.  Got two of my best tanks warming up for you.”

“Thanks.”  She felt around the cuff of her glove, adjusting the fit.  No doubt the suit could keep up with the bitter cold, at least enough to keep her from freezing to death, but jouncing around in it for hours on end was not an experience she anticipated with relish.  It was called a hard suit for a reason.  She gave half a thought to grabbing one of the cozy orange parkas out of the utility room- wishful thinking.

Shepard turned towards her crew, hands on her hips.  “Alright.  You all remember the plan.  Alenko, Liara, Garrus, and I take the first Mako.  Wrex, Tali, and Williams, you’ll follow in the second.  Williams and I have first shift driving.”

She took a breath, but before she could continue her summary, the door with its thick plates of bottle-green glass slid open to admit Maeko Kimura into the garage, flanked by two ERCS personnel.  Her canted eyes swept the scene automatically, years of police work enforcing an unconscious check for hazards.  “Commander.”

“Captain.”  Shepard put folded her hands behind her back.  Her stomach twisted a little and she bounced on the balls of her feet, a touch of wariness after what occurred at the Synthetic Insights office, but she wasn’t about to bring it up first.  The security chief didn’t look like she’d come to arrest anyone.

Kimura’s pink bow mouth turned up slightly, lending her an almost girlish expression at odds with her serious demeanor.  “I trust there are no hard feelings.  It is unfortunate that Sergeant Stirling’s extracurricular activities generated so much trouble.”

The memory of Kira Stirling’s sightless eyes staring up from a blood-spattered face flashed through her mind.  Unfortunate.  Shepard had seen some real horrors in her years, but the cool bureaucratic sterility of this place made her skin crawl.  When this was over, she was going to spend a good hour between decontam and scrubbing her skin raw in the showers just to wipe off Port Hanshan’s slime.

But they were ten minutes away from departure and the events to come at Peak 15 would be firmly in Shepard’s world, not this one.  She answered lightly. “You brought my garage pass?”

“Courtesy of Ms. Parasini.”  She held out a plastic ident card with an imbedded microchip.  “She thanks you for your assistance and regrets you could not be present for the arrest.  Parasini says she… owes you a beer?”

“You have no idea.”  Shepard took the card and spent a half a moment examining it.  She was surprised to note that it had been made up fresh, in her name, rather than loaned out.  That kind of small courtesy that made Parasini such a successful secretary, and that attention to detail likely made her a good cop.  She tucked it away in her utility belt.  “Can you tell me what happened up on Peak 15?  My intel is still sketchy.”

Kimura nodded.  Apparently, Parasini’s goodwill came with more than a garage pass.  “Matriarch Benezia arrived shortly after Peak 15 sent up a Code Omega.  It’s a high-level warning indicating a catastrophic containment failure.  All of our labs dealing with biological or other hazardous substances run a version of the protocol.  The entire facility is placed in lockdown until the situation is rectified.”

“What does the lockdown accomplish?  I mean, we’re talking about viruses, or radiation, or things like that.  I don’t think they respect a sealed hatch.”

“It does more than prevent entry or exit.  Power is shut off in hopes that the cold will kill off the contaminants.  Obviously, this also terminates any dangerous electricity-dependent experiments that may be running.”

Something about the smooth, too-practiced answer put her instincts on high alert.  “Wait- no entry or exit?  What about the staff at the labs when this happened?  It’s way too cold out there to survive without power.”

“It’s a big building.  The cold takes time-“

“What happens if the situation isn’t resolved?”

“In the event that a lab is declared a total loss, the Executive Board takes an accounting of the risk and votes whether to destroy the facility.”  Kimura said this with the same care and inflection as if she were discussing what she ate for breakfast.

“Destroy-“

“Orbital strike with an antimatter warhead,” she supplied smoothly.

Everyone stared a moment, shocked.  Then her crew descended on Kimura in an instant.

“Antimatter?  How does a private facility even get a freaking antimatter warhead?!”

“There are people up there!  You can’t just leave them-“

“What about communications?  How can you possibly know what’s going on well enough to make that kind of call without real time data?”

“What the hell are you letting them do up there?”

Shepard rubbed her eyes and asked the only question that mattered.  “When?”

It wasn’t particularly loud but it cut across the angry ranting like an ink stain on a white tablecloth.  Her crew fell silent.  Kimura swallowed, delicately.  “Not for a few more days.”

Shepard glanced at her squad.  “We need to move.  Get to your vehicles.”

There was a flurry of salutes, nods, and “yes, ma’ams”.  She looked at the mechanic.  “Li?  Are we set?”

He waved his crew clear.  “You’re set.  Spirits go with you.”

She squeezed his shoulder in thanks, and headed for her Mako. 

Her foot was on the step, ready to boost her into the cabin, when a flicker of motion caught her eye at the far end of the garage.  She squinted against the fluorescent lighting.  There it was again.  It… shimmered?  Like liquid metal…

The thought was barely half-formed before she remembered the geth stealth unit hanging from the wall on Therum and found her gun in her hand.  “Hostiles inbound!  Twelve o’clock!”

The maintenance staff wore identical looks of confusion bordering on concern, certain she’d lost her mind, but she sank behind a rolling toolbox, drew her rifle, and shot at the glint without a shred of hesitation.  There was a screech of rent metal, and the geth unit leaped into view, clinging momentarily to a pillar before once again vanishing from sight.

“Two more, starboard!” Williams called out.

Garrus let off several rounds of his own.  “Three on the left!”

Kimura and her agents came out of their shock and took cover, their fire joining the rest.  Shepard grabbed the turian ERCS officer’s arm.  “Get the civilians to safety.  Go!”

He nodded and scrabbled back towards the mechanics, shouting.  By now the geth were returning fire and advancing steadily down the length of the garage.  Shepard’s assault rifle proved insufficient to deter them.  “Liara-“

“On it.”  The asari threw out her hand like she was tossing a ball, and an orb of light fixed itself in the air amidst the geth, exploding outwards into a spiky ball of wavering rays maybe two meters across.  The machines were lifted from their feet and drifted aimlessly under Liara’s gravitational tweak.

Wrex’s shotgun pumped.  “Got a heavy.”  Again.  “Might take something with a bigger bang.”

Tali was crouched nearby.  She sent orders to her omni-tool, her three fingers flying over the haptic keys.  “Try now!”

His next shot took off the heavy’s arm.  He grinned.  “Hah!”

On the far side of Shepard’s Mako, Alenko dangled one of the hostiles in midair and shot it methodically through the chest.  After about the fourth round, the flashlight dimmed and winked out.

Shepard continued to scout for the stealth unit.  She abandoned her cover and rushed ahead, crouching behind a pillar midway across the garage and hoped it was enough to the side to avoid friendly fire.  Her eyes scanned the battlefield.  The oily geth with its huge sticky feet left no trace.  Walls, clear.  Ceiling… large I-beams concealed portions.  Shepard bit her lip.  Where-

Before the thought was more than half-formed, there was a quiet thump directly behind her, almost too soft to hear over the gunfire, and a cool rush of air ruffled her hair. 

She turned on pure instinct, already throwing her leg out, as the stealth unit straightened and began to raise its weapon to blow her brains out through her face.  Her heel connected solidly with its center of mass.  The geth might be thrice her weight, but the blow knocked it off balance, enough for her follow-up- the butt of her rifle to its shoulder in a double-handed slam- to send it to the floor.  Shepard leapt over it lightly before it could recover, knowing that without the advantage of surprise she was dead at close range.

The geth hopper got its bearings sooner than anticipated.  Her bias, she supposed, used to fighting organic opponents who could not so easily shake off getting the wind knocked out of them.  It stared at her intently for several infinite seconds and Shepard felt her shield blow out as whatever silent electronic command it issued overloaded her generator.  There wasn’t even time to curse it for using her team’s tactics against her before the first round struck her back.

In one regard, she was lucky, having just started to vault a chest full of spare parts when it hit.  The momentum of the high-caliber round sent her sailing forward over the box.  The ground still hurt like hell when she found it with her face.  The chest shuddered with the geth’s next five shots but none were able to penetrate the far side of the container.  Shepard licked her upper lip and tasted blood.  Probably her nose.  It didn’t feel broken, but good and well dented. 

A snarl escaped her mouth.  She’d just healed up the last of her bruises.  That son-of-a-bitch was hers.

The second Mako was parked beside her, with her crew firing steadily from the opposite side.  A quick glance showed pockets of geth still advancing on their position, and their defensive wasn’t enough to hold them back.  They’d be in melee range in less than a minute.  The stealth unit was only one of her immediate concerns.  Without a second thought she climbed into the cab and crawled to the rear, swinging herself up behind the artillery cannon.

Makos had no periscopes.  The image constructed in her viewfinder was consisted of collated data feeds from cameras mounted on the exterior, in several wavelength regimes.  She could even filter in sonar if she cared to do so.  From time to time she’d considered ocular implants that allowed the same superhuman vision, but it was just a little too cyborg for her comfort.  As it was, the scope’s imaging was crystal clear, and she swiveled the gun easily until the reticle circled the stealth hopper, which had taken cover on the ceiling.

She flicked the switch to the 155mm mass accelerator rounds and hit the trigger.  The hopper vanished in a satisfying burst of saturated light, though a good chunk of the ceiling accompanied its remains to the ground in a tremendous crash, flooding the garage with clouds of powdered fiberboard.  Smoothly, she flipped back to machine gun and swiveled the turret to the cluster of three geth troopers forcing her squad into cover and let loose.

It didn’t take long to mop up after that.  Her crew’s efforts combined with heavy fire from the Mako made scrap of the last of the geth resistance.  When the noise died, Shepard reset the gun and hopped down from the cabin, to the startled stares of half her team.  She looked from one dusty face to the next, wiping at the blood from her nose.  “What?”

Tali recovered first.  “What happened to your face?  Are you hurt?”

Shepard glanced down at her hand, smeared bright red, and tried again to tidy up.  She succeeded only in spreading the blood further.  Shepard gave her a sour look.  “It’s just one of those enthusiastic ones.”

Alenko and Liara, who hadn’t seen it, came running from behind the other Mako.  They didn’t look any worse for wear.  Liara’s armor was scraped down the arm, as if she’d crushed herself against a concrete pillar.

“Is everyone alright?” Liara asked.  She looked at Shepard, did a double-take, and fished around her utility belt for a tissue.  “Here.”

“We’re fine,” Wrex rumbled, and checked his heat sink.  “Shepard tried to fight the geth with her face.”

Shepard took the proffered tissue and pinched her wounded nose shut, ignoring the slight sting, and glanced towards the rear of the garage.  The turian security guard had corralled the mechanics into a small office where they did paperwork and was standing watch at the door.  Kimura and the other agent were only now crawling from their cover, staring wide-eyed and disbelieving at the scene.  Shepard looked from the dead geth to the captain.

Kimura put her hand to her mouth.  “Geth!  On Noveria?!”

There wasn’t a trace of cockiness or gloating as she replied.  “Captain, I get that spectres and Alliance aren’t the most popular people on this rock, but I don’t mess around.  I knock on your door when it’s important.  Benezia is actively aiding Saren Arterius and his geth army.”

“The geth probably came in those crates she brought,” Alenko reasoned.  “They fold up small.”

“This isn’t possible.  We subjected those crates to every kind of scan…”  Kimura’s voice faltered.  She dropped her hand and licked her lips, drawing a shaky breath. 

Shepard cautiously pushed a breath out her nose.  No new blood trickled down her face.  She set to scrubbing away the old with the remains of the tissue and a little spit.  “The odds are slim she left any at this station other than the ones here.  Benezia wants to keep me from following her, not overrun Noveria.  Whatever happened at Peak 15- she’s here to remedy or salvage what she can.  She’ll need the remaining geth units up at the lab.”

“Then it’s true.  Saren is trying to eradicate human colonies.”

It was her turn to pause.  It was dangerous to even hint at the reapers, because in a world where people needed to see geth with their own eyes to believe in a war, ancient machines bent on genocide lacked the ring of sanity, but Wrex was right.  The Council wasn’t open to this idea and she had to start somewhere.  “It’s more than that.  The geth are only a means to an end.  When he finds that end, this war will touch every corner of the galaxy.”

“Unless you stop him.”

She didn’t answer that, but merely checked her weapons and looked back at her team.  “Get to your Makos.  We’re losing daylight.”  Then, to Kimura,   “Thank you.  I’d take it as a favor if you could do what you can to delay the destruction of the facility.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and got back to doing her job.  The paired Makos soon disappeared into the whirling snow.

Driving through the blizzard was like being walled off in a snow globe.  Visibility wasn’t better than twenty meters in any direction and Port Hanshan was soon lost.  The narrow strip of road wound up and down the mountainside at a sedate ten to twenty degree slope, the bulk of the mountain leering down their starboard side while to port a sheer crevasse threatened disaster with every jar and jounce.  It took all of Shepard’s attention to keep the Mako on the path.  Blue-tinged ice coated every surface, thick and ancient, crunching beneath their six wheels.  Their ears soon wearied of cracking ice and howling wind.

Red flashing beacons stood as lonely sentinels every hundred meters or so, hoisted into the gray skies by concrete bulwarks clinging to the cliffs.  In theory, they marked the sharp edge of the crevasse for travelers.  In a storm like this, muting their light with torrents of snow, their warnings were less than useless.  Shepard’s eyes grew gritty and sore from staring through the gusts.  It was as though their meager convoy were utterly alone in the world.  At times, it was hard to tell whether they were even moving against the monotonous landscape- until suddenly the Mako would slip sideways along a particularly smooth patch of ice and send their hearts flying into their throats.

Garrus and Alenko chatted aimlessly the first hour, for want of any other entertainment, while Liara sat in the middle of the bench with her knees drawn up to her chin.  On the best of days she wasn’t much of a talker.  Today- well, Shepard had met corpses less silent.  Her blue eyes stared into the storm and veiled her thoughts.

Shepard checked the map.  “Should be coming up on the bridge.  Alert Bravo Team.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”  On the far side of Liara, Alenko made the transmission.  “Bravo Team on high alert.”

“Copy.”  Shepard didn’t know why she bothered.  This entire road was nothing but one giant choke point.  But if Benezia left resistance, the bridge was at least strategically traditional.

Alenko frowned.  “Got something on the scanners at thirty meters out.  Doesn’t match any known geth signatures.”

“Do we have a visual?”

Behind them, Garrus pivoted the main gun, making use of the cameras.  “Some kind of vehicle- human.  It’s generating a lot of heat.”

As they rolled closer, an overturned truck appeared through the snow.  It was burning in multiple places.  NDC’s corporate logo was just barely legible in the flame-peeled paint.  Shepard brought her Mako up alongside.  “I’m ordering a full halt.  I want to check this out.”

“Could be bait,” Alenko said doubtfully.

“That’s why I’m the only one getting out.”  She cracked open her door and slid lightly to the ground. 

The cold bit at her almost like a fire itself.  Even with the suit, Shepard was soon shivering.  Space turned the suit into a kind of human thermos, sealing in heat easily to the point where dumping it was more challenging than keeping it; on the surface of Noveria there was no convenient vacuum to enhance its efficiency.  The flames crackled above the wind.  Shielding her face from the blaze, she approached the cab and peered inside.  A badly burned man slumped over the inactive controls.  His forehead was decorated with a swath of dried blood from where it struck the dashboard.  She’d seen enough dead men in her time to know the truth before her omni-tool scan confirmed it.

“No survivors,” she radioed, for appearance’s sake, and continued to circle around the truck looking for a cause.  It was a vehicle designed for the ice, eight-wheeled and built low and broad.  The rear hatch to the storage compartment was busted open, spilling crates of supplies onto the road, a mix of food and laboratory consumables.  They were addressed to Peak 13.  “Looks like a delivery to one of the other facilities.”

Her excellent memory recalled the map.  This road drove by Peaks 13 and 14, and dead-ended with Binary Helix’s labs.  She found the source of ignition.  “There’s a rocket lodged in the side of the truck.  It got lucky and hit the power source.”

Shepard snapped a picture.  The rocket was in pieces, making it hard to confidently identify it as a geth munition, but that remained the smart money gamble.  Wiping the hair out of her face and shielding her eyes against the wind, Shepard scanned the road forward, seeking any clue as to where it came from.  She could just make out the gray bulk of the bridge with its gaping entry and sloped roof.  Here, the crevasse nibbled into the road and necessitated the structure.  There was no other way forward that did not involve flight. 

Alenko radioed in.  “Picking up electrical signatures that look like shields, ma’am.”

“Blockade?”  Damn it.

He affirmed the assessment, and Shepard hurried back to the Mako.  Williams came on the comm.  “Awaiting orders, ma’am.  We’re locked and loaded.”

“Redirect shield power forward.  We’ve got no room to maneuver.  Any chance we can run interference on those shields?”

Tali’s voice joined the rest.  “We can try.  Syncing to Alpha Team Mako now.”

Shepard glanced aft, towards Garrus at the gun controls.  “We come in fast and hard.  As soon as the shields are gone, I’m running into the bridge to give Bravo Team room to fire.”

He nodded.  “I’ll be ready.”

She gunned the engine without further comment.  They flew towards the bridge as fast as she dared on the treacherous ground.  The barricade swam into view, the snow parting like a veil with their forward motion; ten or more geth arrayed behind hexagonal grids of dark energy, just barely betrayed by shimmering arcs of blue where the byproducts of their generation sizzled in a froth of ordinary matter. 

The shields went down seconds before her Mako collided with the line.  Tali was good.

The tank lurched as it rode over a pair of geth and listed towards the port wall.  NDC lined the open side of the bridge with rectangular plates of translucent plastic affixed to metal rods, keeping out the snow but rotating with the wind to keep from shattering.  Shepard didn’t give good odds the flimsy arrangement would hold if the tank crashed against it.  Concrete pillars spaced regularly held up the poles and the roof.  Starboard, partially carved into the mountain, was a small waystation not large enough to drive through.  What commanded her attention most, however, was the second line of geth some ten meters ahead.

In the fraction of a second it took for her to scan the terrain, a succession of shots hit the Mako, mostly heavy gunfire but at least one artillery shell rocked the vehicle.  Garrus answered with a salvo of his own before switching to the machine gun while the cannon cooled.  “Shepard!  Forward!”

“I see them,” she growled, turning the tank hard left.  “Shields!”

Alenko, linked with Tali’s algorithm, flailed at the instruments.  It wasn’t quite enough time; they were thrown forward as the vehicle impact absorbed the last of the shielding.  Liara, blank-faced, simply reached above her for one of the handholds.

Shepard threw the Mako into reverse and executed a ninety-degree turn.  Their rear smacked squarely against one of the support pillars.  There was an audible gasp over the comm from Bravo Team, but Shepard put the tank exactly where she intended.  They were now facing down the line of geth defenders.

She stomped the accelerator.

Some of them managed to scramble out of the way before the tank ran them down, but the maneuver was so unexpected, most simply turned and shot at them.  That was satisfying.  Apparently, even geth programming had a discernable reaction time to adapt to a new situation.  The machines crumpled beneath her wheels.  Garrus gave up firing at their line and turned his attention towards the aft bridge, assisting Bravo Team with the first line as Shepard chased down the stragglers with her vehicular assault.  Stray shots exploded against the windows, concrete, and mountain, leaving craters and sprays of debris scattered across the bridge.  Someone was going to have a hell of a time cleaning up.

When at last the shot faded, only the two Makos remained functional.  Shepard calmly spoke into the comm.  “Status report.”

“Shields holding at 93%.  Rear Cameras 3 and 4 not responding,” Alenko relayed.  His look was reproachful.  “I think they were crushed when you rammed the support.”

Tali also responded.  “Shields at 97%.  No structural damage.”

“Roger.  Tali, is it worth hopping out to examine these geth units?”

“Negative, Shepard.  They’ll have been wiped by now.”

Shepard was tempted to take a look around anyway.  Maybe it was that the bridge was sheltered from the storm and her eyes were getting the first rest they’d had in hours.  But now that Benezia almost certainly knew they were coming, they were working with borrowed time.  She resumed rolling forward.  “Copy that.  Move out.”

Shortly after the bridge, they entered a series of treacherous switchbacks that left barely enough room for a single vehicle on the road.  At times, several centimeters of their portside wheels were left dangling over the edge.  The caravan slowed to a crawl.  The dangerous confines lent special charm to the discovery that Benezia had dropped mobile turrets onto the cliffs above them.  Luckily, those same circumstances prevented the guns from establishing good line of sight, and Garrus’ superior aim managed to disable the turret before it could do any real damage. 

The turret did manage to mangle a section of the road.  Shepard didn’t trust the broken, slushy churn of ice to hold their weight, and was left with the unfortunate choice of using the retrorocket to sail over the gap.  It wreaked similar havoc on the ice beneath them, and though she cut it off before they landed, the Mako still skidded alarmingly on contact.  Two of the wheels revolved on air before she managed to steady it. 

She let out a slow breath and rolled forward to give the second Mako plenty of clearance.  They now had a longer jump, and the snow was picking up.  “In your own time, Bravo Team.  Don’t rush it.”

Liara turned her head towards Alenko and spoke for the first time in hours.  “Let me out.”

The look he gave her in return was dubious, and concerned.  “It won’t work.  It’s too heavy.”

“It’s worth a try.”  What her voice lacked in intonation it made up for with implacability. 

He let out a breath and budged open the hatch, shaking his head.  They tumbled onto the ice.  Shepard scooted along the bench after them.  “Does someone want to tell me-“

Bravo Team activated their retrorocket.  The words died on her lips.

It was clear from the start that the trajectory was flawed.  An unfortunate gust of wind pushed the Mako further sideways, while shoving Alpha Team into the side of their vehicle, between them and the crevasse.  The airborne tank had no thrusters to correct for the drift.  Shepard felt her stomach contract into a hard ball.  “They’re not going to make it.”

Several things happened very quickly.  Liara grabbed Alenko’s hand.  The Mako hit the ice with a heavy thud, leftmost half almost entirely off the path, and began to list over the side.  The asari flung out her remaining arm, fingers spread to their full span, and with tenuous, aching slowness, the fall was arrested.

Half the tank sat on empty air limned in blue light.  Liara’s lips were pressed so thin they were shuddering, and her large eyes didn’t blink.  Thought it couldn’t have lasted more than a second in real time the instant seemed to stretch thin into eternity.

Then the Mako’s wheels roared as they tried to find purchase on the blue-shot ground, throwing up chips of ice as they bit into the road with desperation and hauled the vehicle forward.  Once it found its grip its speed became prodigious; Shepard scrambled back as it rammed the rear of the first Mako and nearly ran over her toes. 

The instant the sixth wheel was on firm ground Liara dropped her hand and fell to her knees, gasping in great gulps of air.  Alenko staggered back, massaging his forehead and cursing.  “Owww.  Holy crap.  You could have warned me.”

Liara was lost to a coughing fit.  When she recovered, she wiped her mouth.  “I’m sorry.  I thought I did.”

He leaned back against the side of the tank and shut his eyes, groaning.  “Shit.”

Shepard looked between them.  “What just happened?”

“A Mako possesses extraordinary mass.”  Liara managed to straighten.  “I couldn’t hold it unassisted.” 

Shepard hadn’t realized biotics could combine strength like that.  Maybe Alenko hadn’t either, judging by his surprise and assertion that her attempt was doomed to failure, though clearly that hadn’t inhibited Liara’s ability to form whatever connection she required.  Shepard hated not having strategically relevant information; hated that when it came to biotics she didn’t even know which questions to ask.  Instead, she activated her comm link.  “Is everyone ok in there?”

Williams was shaken, but coherent.  “Yes, ma’am.  We’re in one piece.”

“Good.”  For once, Shepard didn’t bother to hide her relief beneath professionalism.  If Ash and Tali and Wrex went over that cliff- she wasn’t entirely sure of her reaction, but it would have been severe.  She let out a breath.  “This is a hell of a long road.  Switch out drivers and keep going.  We need to make Peak 15 by nightfall.”

Shepard gave her Mako to Garrus and took over the gun, while Liara slid into the navigator’s seat to allow Alenko some time to try to clear the stars from his eyes.  Her draw on his ability sent him straight into the throes of a savage headache.  Slowly, gaining traction against the incline, they rolled out. 

They were climbing now, winding their way across the face of the mountain.  Shepard never understood the custom of naming mountains; with the exception of certain kinds of volcano, mountains were not distinct, not individual.  Every so-called mountain was nothing more than a particularly high ridge or peak.  She rather liked the NDC convention of naming the range and numbering the features.  The road they traveled was carved out by explosives and hard labor when Port Hanshan was founded, barely more than a scrape along the granite monstrosity of Skadi, but it gave some meager shelter from the winds Shepard saw high above the port a day prior.  She was certain they never could have made it subject to those gusts. 

They passed more turrets along the way, and more burnt-out vehicles.  Clearly Benezia had no intention of being followed.  They found additional geth as well, and dispatched them with more accumulated wear on their vehicles.  NDC had not scrimped on their equipment, for which Shepard was grateful, but her team had to be lucky every time.  Benezia’s only needed to find a weak point in their multi-layered shielding once.  Shepard wasn’t about to give her the opportunity.

It concerned her that she was framing the coming conflict in such personal terms.  It was Saren’s army they fought, not Benezia personally, but it was hard not to hold her accountable for this pocket portion of the war.  It was hard not to lust after a solid, identifiable, flesh-and-blood target even with Liara sitting not two meters from her.  There was a strong thirst for retribution, to make some pay for what had occurred these last months in the Traverse, and it didn’t matter whose mother she was. 

And it should.  It should matter that Benezia was bewitched, or indoctrinated, or whatever you cared to call it; it should matter that she undoubtedly knew things that could help turn the tide; hell, it should matter that she was influential in the asari government and her unsubstantiated demise could be painful for the Systems Alliance.  But none of it did.  The impulse belonged to the darker thoughts of that same part of her that found intimidating guards quality entertainment.  That part knew geth couldn’t pay tribute for their crimes in blood, that silicon didn’t splinter and machinery couldn’t scream.

Shepard was deeply discomfited knowing that was inside her, at the same time knowing that it was also what moved her hand when everyone else around her was struck with horror or burdened with fear.  This ability to step outside empathy and see the whole gory thing as just another score-keeping exercise defended her every bit as much as her armor and her training.  Another reason she’d wanted out.  It was easier when she could still believe the terrible things she did were to protect her people, but as the years dragged on and not a damn thing seemed to change for more than five minutes, faith that it meant anything was in short supply. 

It was quite cold inside the Mako despite environmental controls.  The chill of this planet seeped through every seam.  Shepard licked at her chafed lips.  “How much farther?”

“We’re coming up on the second bridge,” Liara reported.  “From there, the road should widen and give us a clear path to Peak 15.  A few hours, perhaps.”

Shepard checked the time.  They would be cutting it close to sundown.  Garrus said, “Maybe we should bivouac in the waystation, wait until morning.”

“No.  We’re not giving them another night to finish what they started.”

“We may not have a choice.  Geth are hard to fight in the dark.”  They all knew that out here, it would be an absolute dark.  The only lights were the dull red beacons lining the road.

“We keep moving,” Shepard said firmly.  “That’s an order.”

Garrus snorted, his disagreement plain.  “We’re not going to be much good for anything when we get there.”

“Pull over at the bridge.  We’ll switch out again.  I’ll take us in.”

Alenko, whose headache had faded from stabbing to a dull ache, spoke up.  “I can take a shift, if you want.”

Shepard chuckled in spite of the awful weariness that came from traveling in a bumpy tank all day.  “No.  I’ve seen you drive.  You can have the gun or relieve Liara on nav, your pick.”

Though another ambush at the bridge was expected, either Benezia was running out of troops or was confident in her earlier measures, because there was nothing but empty road.  Each tank rotated its personnel, but Shepard felt the need to stretch her legs a few minutes, and called a brief rest.  Several of her team went to explore the waystation- or at least enjoy its brief warmth.  The commander instead elected to wander ahead of the caravan, to the end of the bridge where snow gathered in deep drifts, caught against the supports. 

She leaned against one and folded her arms, staring out into the mountains, taking a deep breath of the cold clean air.  They were at significant altitude and breath got thinner with every mile, or so it felt.  Then something caught her eye, a smudge of gray and orange at the limits of her sight.  Curious, she walked a bit down the road. 

Two Makos lay there, tumbled over each other like broken toys, one lying on its roof.  Both were ablaze.  Unlike the truck and other vehicles they’d passed, it was a trickle of flame, as there was only fuel from the retrorocket to burn.  It wavered above the overturned tank, a sad banner of defeat.

Scattered about them were geth chassis, maybe ten or fifteen in all, interspersed with several very human looking corpses, burnt as they fled.  Shepard knelt by the nearest and rolled the body over.  The remains of his eyes stared up into the sky framed by an ERCS headset.  She sat back on her heels and draped her arms over her legs, thoughtful.  So.  Anoleis did send a team to investigate.  He wasn’t covering for Saren, or Binary Helix.  He was covering his own inability to contain the situation.  Shepard shook her head.  What a bloody waste. 

Li hadn’t mentioned it.  Oddly enough she was more bothered by that than all the rest.  She’d thought him the only honest one in the lot.

Static burst at her ear, the storm playing merry hell with their comm system.  Alenko.  “Commander, we’re ready to move, on your order.”

Polite way of saying they were waiting for her to return.  She squinted at the cliffs rising to the right, searching for the turret.  “I’m just past the bridge.  Move up.  We’ve got some business to address.”

Then, as she found it, she added, “Carefully.  There’s a turret about fifteen meters ahead and ten up.”

She wasn’t large enough to trip its sensors into action.  Prudently, before her Makos could come into view, she moved back against the cliff and out of the line of fire. 

The first tank emerged with its gun already sniffing at the wind.  The turret spun in its moorings instantly.  They fired simultaneously as their instruments found each other and established a hard lock. 

The turret’s salvo was first to arrive, going wide of its target and blowing a crater into the miniature battlefield at Shepard’s feet.  The pressure front, somewhat greater than the wind but less than required to do injury, felt incredible as it knocked her back like the shove of a giant hand.  Her back smacked against the mountain and knocked her to her knees.  Some of the disabled geth were mangled by the plasma shot, while others were tossed into the air.  One struck the mountain not far from Shepard’s position.  Bits of dirt and chips of ice from the blast sprayed over her in a tide, stinging cheeks numbed by cold and forcing her to shield her eyes with her arm. 

Shepard found the turret again just in time to watch it crumble on itself, shedding shrapnel all the way down the cliff and onto the road.  The sight made her smile.  It was a clever strategy, sending disposable synthetics against irreplaceable flesh-and-blood, but it wasn’t working.

She swung up into the Mako, Garrus scooting over to make room, and adjusted the controls to suit her.  “It’s not long now.” 

Alenko shifted at the gun behind her.  “What’s the plan when we arrive?”

“We assess the situation, and then…”  She let out a breath.  “And then we find Benezia and get some answers.”

Liara checked her display, her mouth thin and tight.  “My mother has great strength.  Shiala shook off Saren’s control.   We don’t know what she is doing at the labs.”

Garrus glanced at her.  “Saren let Shiala go.  It’s not the same.”

“Let her be,” Shepard said before it could go any further.  Who cared if she was trying to protect Liara for as long as that remained possible?  What was wrong with that?  None of this was Liara’s fault.  She’d asked for none of it, no more than the colonists of Feros or Eden Prime. 

Shepard cleared her throat and modulated her tone to something less sharp.  “We have no way of knowing the tenor of Benezia’s present relationship with Saren.  I won’t entertain speculation.  It wastes time.”

Liara looked up.  “There it is.” 

A break in the snow allowed them a glimpse of Peak 15 across the crevasse, though they’d have to wind around its small end before they could reach it.  The road dead-ended in a steel trap of a door where shuttles would deliver people and supplies on less stormy days.  Above the door, peeking between the sheets of blue-gray ice, were thick paned windows, an expensive extravagance.  There was not the slightest sign of activity through any of it.

After miles of climbing, the path actually began to descend, at a gentle pace, towards the entrance to Binary Helix’s laboratory.  While Peak 15 sat well above them, plucking at the passing clouds, the facility built into the mountain had its garage at road level.  The last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the peak about thirty minutes before they reached it, and there were precious few half-hours of Shepard’s life she wanted to relive less.  The Mako’s lights were damn near useless in these conditions and they were forced to drive by ladar scan alone.  It was a relief to finally kill the engine and step out into the dark, rifle in hand.

The huge steel bay door was firmly shut.  There was no exterior terminal evident.  Shepard looked at her squad.  “Spread out.  Find a way in.”

Their flashlights formed small islands in the night as they examined the mountainside and the small circle that was the last of the road.  There were no signs of geth.  It wasn’t more than a few minutes before Williams called out.  “Ma’am, you need to see this.”

Shepard headed towards her voice, trailed by much of the remainder of the team.  Wavering in the cold light were three corpses, all human, wearing tattered uniforms identifying them as members of the laboratory staff, probably assigned to the garage.  They were tumbled over each other, as though they’d fled together and been caught together.  She wondered what could make people run to certain death by freezing.    What was worse? 

She knelt beside the nearest of the bodies and touched its clothes, carefully.  “These tears… I don’t recognize them.  It’s not knife work.”

Wrex sniffed at the air.  “Looks almost like some kind of animal.”

Alenko glanced at her.  “That mechanic did say Noveria has savage wildlife.”

“Wildlife we’ve seen no sign of all day.”  Shepard brushed her fingers over the ground.  “Fresh snow, and no marks that aren’t ours.  No pieces missing from the bodies.  What kind of creature ignores fresh meat sitting free for the taking?”

“These were people, ma’am,” Williams corrected harshly.

“All flesh is the same to an animal,” Shepard replied mildly and glanced at the door.  “The garage was shut behind them.  Someone’s still alive in there.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared.  “Under Benezia’s control.”

“Maybe.”  She straightened.  “Someone scan the usual frequencies.  See if we can pick up anything.”

“On it,” Tali said, fiddling with her omni-tool.  “Most of the computer systems are off-line.”

Alenko squatted next to the third corpse and lifted something off its neck.  “Ident badge.  Could be useful.”

He passed it to her.  Shepard weighed it in her hand.  The young woman pictured was dark-haired and smiling.  The young woman in the snow had a face too savaged by claws to tell any expression.

Wrex rose and wandered towards the far end of the bay door.  “Over here.  There’s a smaller hatch.”

Shepard reached the door and slid the badge through the scanner.  “At least the security systems are still online.”

The interior of the garage was a velvety black, and nearly as cold as the air outside.  Shepard raised her light but it lacked the strength to illuminate much of the room.  The floor was bare concrete and crates of all manner lay scattered about it, abandoned in place when the… whatever it was hit the facility.

Liara followed her through the door.  “Logically, if you’re trying to contain a loose experiment, security is the very last system that would be shut off.  It will stay online until they run out of power completely.”

“And how long will that take?”

“Each facility on Noveria will have its own reactor.  So, years to decades depending on how much maintenance it requires to avoid tripping the fail safes.”

“Alright.  So the power didn’t go out.  Somebody shut it down.  From Port Hanshan or here?”

Alenko tried a light switch.  Nothing happened.  “Did NDC look like the kind of place that exercises a lot of oversight?”

Shepard acknowledged the point.  “So from inside Peak 15.  That means we can turn it back on.  That’s our first priority.  Once the computers are online, they can tell us where in this maze Benezia is hiding.”

Liara began to make some response, but a distant screech, high-pitched and not like anything from any human throat, sang through the garage.  The echoes took half an eternity to die.  The asari glanced around, eyes wide, her voice a harsh whisper.  “What was that?”

There was a second screech, shorter, less a cry and more a call, raising the hair on the back of her neck.  Shepard’s finger twitched against her trigger, not enough to fire. 

Williams spun slowly, pointing her rifle at shadows.  “Think it’s what got them outside?”

“Yes,” said Wrex, settling his shotgun in his hands.  “They’re hunting.”

Shepard refused to be unnerved.  “Tali, can we record a sample and try to match it to something?  I want to know what the hell these creatures are.”

The quarian nodded.  She snapped her attention to Liara.  “Where’s the power junction?”

Liara pulled open a map she’d downloaded before leaving the port.  “Binary Helix built the lab in several parts.  The main systems are all on this side, along with a few light-duty labs.  The primary scientific facilities as well as security are located in auxiliary sites, accessed via tramway.”

“Power is on this side?”

“Yes.  Here.”  Liara placed a waypoint on her map.  “Next to the server room for all the station-wide computer systems.”

Another screech, and another answering, high-pitched hisses in the night.  Their breath was loud, harsh, in the following silence, and they crowded a bit closer together in the meager flashlight.  Shepard shot Alenko a glance, who jerked his head at Garrus, the two began a slow patrol around the front of the garage, searching for the source.  Wrex calmly continued looking over his weapon.  Liara crowded closer to Williams, who kept her rifle held high, searching for a target.

Shepard’s eyes flicked from the direction of the noise to Tali.  “Anything?”

“Nothing in the databases I can access.”

Garrus and Alenko finished their circuit and reported in.  “Nothing but dust and snow, ma’am.”

“Alright.”  Shepard grew tired of waiting in the dark like nervous children.  “We make for the power junction.  If anything moves, shoot it.  We can solve this mystery with dead animals just as easily as live.”

They found a stairwell at the far end of the garage.  A placard above the hatch read “Central Station”.  Shepard advanced steadily, more determined than cautious.  A few rogue nightmares conjured by Binary Helix’s experiments weren’t about to frighten her off.  The stairs gave way to a glass tube of an airlock, to allow the attached security station to verify all visitors as well as prevent contaminants from entering the lab space.  Within the tube were two portable turrets, thankfully not geth technology, pointed towards the inner hatch.

The sight gave Liara pause.  “Why are the turrets pointed the wrong way?”

Nobody wanted to answer.  They stared at walls while Shepard swiped the stolen card and worked to override the permissions from within the tube.  Liara glanced around in growing confusion.  At last Alenko licked his lips and stated, simply, “They want to keep their own people in as much as others out.”

Her blue eyes grew very round.  “That’s horrifying.”

The hatch opened at last.  Shepard consulted the map on the wall and turned towards the elevator, grimly.  “It’s going to get worse from here.”

They piled into the carriage, a bit cramped, and as they ascended the lights began to flicker.  Emergency power was failing.  The thought sat like a stone in Shepard’s stomach.  This wasn’t a space station with their ship docked right outside, or a facility on a broad open plain; this was a mountain with hard-locked hatches.  If the power died completely, they’d be stuck a long time, unless NDC’s antimatter warhead obliterated them sooner.

Nothing to be done about it.  What was that stupid saying of her mother’s, when she had some unpleasant task or other- no way out but forward.  No point in dwelling on it.  The power would hold until they reached the power junction because there was no other option. 

The elevator poured them out into a hallway curving around the mountain face, high above the road, the outer wall made of a glass so thick it distorted the view.  The floor, ceiling, and inner wall were all bare rock swathed in a rich frosting of snow, ice, and furry frost.  A bit of a draft swept the ground clean and caused whispers of snow to play about her ankles.  Her breath fogged out before her.  In the distance ahead there was a trickle of water, the only sound.

Shepard paused at the next hatch, listening a moment, the water growing louder, echoing as though from a much larger chamber.  She motioned for her squad to be ready, and tagged open the door, jogging forward several steps quite quickly and sweeping her eyes over the room.

They were in an office, split in two levels, with a multi-story spacious meeting area to the front and small conference rooms upstairs and down lining the back wall, hidden behind a partition.  Heavy windows looked out over the valley.  With night fallen outside, they seemed to merely add depth to the darkness.  Snow lay here and there in the corners and where the walls met the floor, and icicles dangled, dripping, from heating ducts.  With the power outage there wasn’t much air moving through the system.  A single strip of emergency lighting glowed faintly up the ramp to the second story.

The place was in chaos.

Tables and chairs lay in tumbled piles, tops gouged and cushions slashed.  Datapads, terminals, and paperwork covered the floor like large bits of confetti with darkened screens.  But the worst part was the bodies.  There were no Binary Helix staff, at least not in the area nearest the hatch, but there were several krogan bearing expressions of frozen surprise and the same coloring as all the others Shepard had seen in Saren’s employ.  Blood pooled at the seams of their armor and gathered on the floor.  There were also several varieties of geth chassis, the framework rent and scratched. 

Shepard stared at the scene with disbelief and not a little surprise.  Saren sent his people to contain the situation, not be slaughtered by it.  These weren’t untrained staffers.  “What the hell happened here?”

Wrex turned over a krogan corpse with his boot.  The visible flesh was covered in slashes and puckered puncture wounds, but that wasn’t what immediately attracted Shepard’s attention.  All down the right half of the body, seamless between flesh and armor, was a large mottled burn.  In the worst places the flesh ran like candlewax; in others it exposed the lines of bone and muscle in stark relief.  The armor it touched was a mushy mess of fused nylon webbing tangled about scarred ceramic plates.

A hush came over the squad.  Liara turned away, in the quiet but almost inexpressibly horrified way she had, while the others by turn swallowed or cursed beneath their breath.  For her part, Shepard merely looked from the corpse to Wrex.  He shook his head.  “I don’t know.  These are natural wounds, save for the burn.”

“Acid, maybe.”  She sat back on her heels.  “Hard to believe it’d be flame in a place this cold.”

A hiss came out of the darkness beyond their pool of flashlight.  It was followed by a soft, querying cry and the scrabbling of something sharp on the stone floor.  As she listened, soft chittering, closer at hand, whispered through the room.  Whatever the escaped experiments were, they sounded quite large.  One of the high-octave hisses sounded almost like alien laughter.

Williams swallowed, audibly.  “Orders, ma’am?”

It was so cold frost was forming on her hard suit.  Shepard gave up wondering over the dead krogan.  “We need the power back, but I won’t be flanked by these… creatures.”  That word she almost spat, with utter disdain.  “We go room by room until we find our way.  Spread out, stay in pairs.”

Her team forged ahead through the blackout.  Wrex lingered over the strange wounds a few moments further.  “These are precise, the mark of a strong predator.  So were the ones outside.  This thing knows what it’s doing.”

“Things,” Shepard corrected.  “There’s at least two hiding here, maybe more.”

“Pack hunter,” Wrex speculated.  “I don’t know anything could take out a squad of krogan alone and still fit in this room.”

Shepard didn’t want to admit he was likely correct.  “No ideas?”

“I’ve never seen anything like this.”  He rolled his shoulder, confused and irritated.  “But it feels familiar.  Like maybe something I saw in a vid.  I don’t know, Shepard.”

A yell interrupted them, edged with familiar turian flanging.  Then she heard Alenko curse, reflexively, and the steady rat-tat-tat of rifle fire.

Shepard sprinted up the ramp.  They were at significant altitude, it was colder than the void’s own vastness, and she was easily carrying thirty kilos of gear between her armor and armaments.  But she’d trained in worse, and she could haul some serious ass when it was required.  She skidded around the corner and slid into the small meeting room that was the source of all the commotion.

Her first impression was of a giant shrimp, but far more menacing.  The dull red creature’s segmented body rose perhaps as high as her waist but twice as long.  It stood on four legs and waved another, stunted pair at its assailants.  Two miniscule eyes graced its curved head ending in a mess of feelers, and a twin pair of long, pincered tentacles whipped about it, defending its airspace.

Green acid dripped from its hissing maw and made tiny impact craters on the floor.  The hail of bullets was keeping it at bay, but not driving it back.  They seemed to do the thick carapace little damage.  As soon as Alenko overloaded his heat sink it was all over.

So Shepard did the first thing that came to mind, and charged the animal with a wild yell of her own.

She ducked between the tentacles and shoved the heel of her boot hard into its face.  Something crunched beneath it.  The shrimp-like insect let out a hideous shriek and tried to draw back, but she kept pace.    The kick was followed by a stout punch to the side of its head.  It reared in anger and agony and tried to spit acid into her face, and she fought to keep its mouth away while its legs scrabbled against her armor and the pincers sought a place to wound, winding about her.

Her rifle clattered to the ground.  Her gloved hands pressed against its neck, straining, her face turned away from that gaping mouth.  “Little help here?”

Alenko was trying to shoot at it without hitting her.  “It doesn’t seem to care!”

Footsteps in the hall, Wrex catching up and the rest attracted to the commotion.  Shepard twisted desperately to put the creature between herself and them.  “Fire!”

Nobody needed to be told twice.  She felt the impact of their various attacks through the body of her assailant.  It thrashed its death, scoring her armor with long scrapes and dressing the wall over her shoulder in its corrosive saliva.  It was all she could do to hold on- but she knew letting go would mean almost certain injury. 

At last it slumped against her, all the life gone from it, and she staggered beneath its weight.  With a great heave she shoved it off onto the floor. 

Williams’ eyes were so wide she could see the whites all the way around.  “What the FUCK is that thing?!”

Shepard didn’t have the faintest idea.  She reclaimed her rifle from where it fell to the floor, the sweat already freezing on her brow.  “Something new.”  Her eyes swept the squad.  “Where’s Garrus?  I heard him yell.”

Alenko gulped a breath, let it out, and leaned against the wall shaking his head.  “I don’t know.  He was here, and then it was here, and then… I don’t know.”

There was a pile of refuse in the corner, half-hidden beneath a fallen display terminal.  She kicked it aside and saw the hole.  “They’ve burrowed through the floor.  Move!”

The team made for the ramp.  Shepard didn’t bother, but vaulted over the railing directly, rolling out of the fall.  Liara followed her rather more delicately, shrouded in a pale blue glow until her feet lightly touched the ground.  They were first to reach the conference room directly below.

Garrus was barricaded behind an overturned table while another of the creatures lashed at him.  It was so fierce in its assault that he could hardly poke his eyes over the lip, much less get off a round. 

“Liara,” Shepard said, raising her rifle. 

The asari threw out a singularity, pulling the creature from its feet to leave it dangling helpless in midair.  Shepard took her time in placing the shot, waiting for its writhing to expose the softer underbelly she’d noticed while grappling its friend.  The barrage ripped it open from throat to bottom, and the resulting deluge of gore put pale to most of Shepard’s memories.  The stench alone did not bear description. 

“Goddess,” Liara gasped, covering her mouth and nose, gagging. 

Shepard’s eyes were watering.  “If this is what Saren wanted, I can believe he means to take over the galaxy.”

Garrus rose slowly, similarly disgusted but unwilling to pay it any attention.  “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”  She shook her head and stalked from the room.  “I like this place less and less-“

Not two meters from the doorway, Wrex’s giant boot came down on something blackish green, the size of a cat but with far more legs.  It splat.  Bits of slime dotted Shepard’s lower legs.  “What the hell?”

“Dunno.”  He lifted his foot and peered at the remains, what little there was.  “Makes my nose itch.”

“It’s acid,” Garrus clarified, coming up behind Shepard.  “Better wipe your shoe.”

Liara speculated, “A larval stage, perhaps.”

Shepard scowled.  “With a few dozen of these things, Saren could lay waste to most colonies.  God knows how many are here.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Garrus said firmly.

“No,” she said, with real rancor.  “It’s not.” 

Shepard turned on her heel and swept by her team as she headed deeper into the labs, leaving them to scramble in her wake. 

They traveled down long hallways, some brushing the night sky with windows, others buried within the mountain.  The occasional echoed hiss or screech kept them sharp, though they encountered no more of the strange creatures along their way.  Liara kept a watchful eye on her map and offered direction when necessary.  Eventually, they emerged into a larger room, if anything colder than the halls but free of ice and snow.  Enormous, and silent, power junctions lined its walls.  Thin strips of emergency lighting, dimmed as the reserves ran low, lit a central path towards the back of the room and flickered against the shadows.

Shepard glanced around for the switch but found nothing.  “Where do we start?”

Tali’Zorah was looking over Liara’s shoulder, pointing.  “The main reactor should be here.  However, we’ll never be able to bring it back online without the system VI.  The security protocols alone would take days to crack.”

“Is there enough power left in the labs for a VI?”

Alenko held up his omni-tool to a power junction and took a reading.  He frowned.  “There’s no residual power left in any of these.  They’ve been down a long time, a week at least.  But the VI should have an auxiliary power source, if it was designed correctly.  We just need to find it.”

“Shepard,” Garrus said, drawing her attention to the rear hatch.  Beyond it was a circular room enclosing a ring of dead server banks.

“That looks like a VI to me,” she said.  “Let’s get it back.”

They hurried into the room, which was somewhat cramped with all seven of them crowded around the servers.  A small platform elevator waited in the middle of the cluster.  Tali stepped onto it.  “I need somebody to find that power supply.”

“On it,” Alenko said, beginning an examination of the room’s perimeter.  Tali descended into the VI hardware.  The tube filled with faint orange light as she interfaced her omni-tool with the server access terminal.

“You need to bypass automatic safety protocols,” she called up.  “This shutdown wasn’t due to lack of electricity.  Somebody wanted this to happen.”

Shepard grimaced.  “Probably went with the Code Omega.  Binary Helix wouldn’t want any of their data to survive to be picked up by NDC or a competitor.”

“They haven’t wiped the drives,” Tali reported.

That was a piece of luck.  Shepard shot a glance to Alenko, crouched beside a unit affixed to the wall.  “Faster would be better.”

“Giving it all I got, ma’am.  They hardwired the response with an FPGA and locked it down afterwards.  I’ve never seen a setup like this.”  He sounded torn between aggravation and admiration of their cleverness.

Shepard was merely aggravated.  “The hell is an FP-“

“Programmable hardware,” Tali supplied from her cave.  “Don’t ask.  Kaidan, can you isolate the chip physically?”

“Yeah, just let me pull out my portable soldering kit,” he replied sarcastically.

“You know what I mean.”

“It’ll be faster to crack the lock.  Just give me another minute.”

The requested sixty seconds passed impatiently, Shepard tapping her foot all the while and trying not to pace.  Just as she was about to prod things along, the server indicator lights lit up in a blue-and-orange constellation of LEDs and the computers came to life with a great whoosh of intake air. 

Tali made a pained sound.  “The shutdown corrupted some of the essential files.  I need to make repairs from backups.”

Garrus had wandered nearer to Alenko.  “I’m not reading a lot of power here.  We don’t have much time.”

“Damn it, I need this VI online.”  Shepard pushed past him, assessing the meter.  “Can we feed it power from something else?  One of the suits, maybe?”

Each hard suit had a small eezo-based generator mounted on the back that supplied shielding as well as power for recording biometric information, and circulating oxygen when required.  Alenko clearly thought her mad.  “Sure, the cabling ports are all the same, but it doesn’t have that kind of juice.  The transfer would drain it completely.  It would have to be replaced later.”

Shepard sat down next to the power unit.  “Do it.”

He gave her a look of utter disbelief.  “Commander, your shielding _will not function._ It’s too big a risk.”

She shook her head.  “If we don’t get that reactor started, it’s all over.  There’s no other way to reach Benezia.”

“Ma’am-“

“I gave you an order,” she interrupted smoothly with more than a touch of frost.

He couldn’t hold her tempered glare, but instead gave an exasperated sigh and snagged an appropriate cable, and muttered too low for anyone else to hear.  “If you die, I’m leaving your body here for those things to eat.”

“No you won’t,” she said without a trace of worry, whispering back.  A smile tugged at her mouth.

Alenko plugged her in and tapped a few commands into the console.  “How do you know?”

“Because between the two of us, I’m the one with the reputation for leaving people behind.”  The joke came out before she knew she was going to say it.  It left her somewhat startled.  She didn’t know that she’d ever cracked a joke about Akuze before, at least not one like that, but she wasn’t sorry for it.

A spot the size of her palm heated on her back as the power draw rose to maximum.  Alenko spared her a very dry glance.  “And I’m the one who stupidly stands between girls and their mistakes.”

“Please.  You stand at the back and throw blue shit around.”  But she was smiling as she spoke.  “Who’s the one who saved your ass from the giant acid-breathing lobster?”

Tali, working furiously down in the pit, yelled up.  “I’ve almost got it- there!”

A projection pad a quarter of the way round the room hummed to life, bearing the image of a pink-gridded, animated woman with blank eyes and a pleasant smile.  “Greetings.  I am Mira.  It looks like you are trying to restore this facility.  Would you like help?”


	37. The Hot Labs Survivors

The VI named Mira had a pleasant look, designed to be perfectly average in all ways, a sympathetic front into which to pour one’s inquiries.  Studies had proven people were far less likely to express anger or violence at a VI’s inherent limitations if it presented itself as a colleague- hence the rather expensive projection systems.

“Status report,” Shepard ordered, concisely ignoring all of that carefully rendered design intended to make her feel a human connection to a complicated piece of software.

But a VI couldn’t begin to care.  Its virtual expression glazed over momentarily as it accessed the requisite information.  “One moment please.  Diagnostics in progress…  Critical failure.  Reactor shutdown in accordance with emergency containment procedures.  Manual restart required.  Critical failure.  Landline connections are disabled.  Passenger tram systems are offline.  Report complete.”

The reactor problem seemed straightforward.  It was, however, the first time Shepard had heard the term “landline”.  “What are the landlines are why are they disconnected?”

Mira intoned blandly, “The landlines connect my mainframes here at Central Station to the various subfacilities of Peak 15.  This allows personnel to remotely access my databases from the comfort and security of their labs.  The cabling is automatically ejected under emergency protocols.”

Shepard glanced at Liara.  “Where are these ‘landline cables’ located?”

She searched her map.  “They appear to connect to the main systems on the roof of the operations center.  The access elevator isn’t far.”

“Alright.”  Shepard crossed her arms and paced a few steps, before looking back at Mira.  “Tell me what happened here.”

“I require a more specific inquiry.”

Shepard rethought her phrasing, modifying it for the literal logic of a VI.  “Tell me what happened immediately before you were shut down.”

“Identity unknown.  Please authenticate before proceeding.”

“Commander Shepard, Citadel Special Tactics and Reconnaissance.” 

“One moment please…  Council authority confirmed.  Processing previous inquiry…”  The VI tilted its head and recited the warnings monotonously.  “Stage I Alert issued at hot labs.  Contaminants released from Laboratory Pod Gamma.  Emergency protocols implemented.”

“Contaminants,” Wrex spat.  “She must mean those things we fought off.”

Mira continued without break.  “Stage II Alert issued at hot labs.  Tube breached.  Tram shut down.  Landlines to hot labs ejected.  Stage III Alert issued locally.  Contaminants in tram tunnels.  Facility shutdown and evacuation initiated.  Code Omega sent.”

“Great,” Alenko said.  “So we can look forward to more overgrown shellfish on the tram.”

Shepard doubted her much-touted Council authority would buy her an ID on the hostiles, but asked the question anyway.  “Can you tell me about the contaminants?”

“I’m sorry, Commander,” Mira said, and to her programmers’ credit, the regret sounded nearly real.  “Inquiries into our research require privileged access.  Only Binary Helix executives possess that level of clearance.”

She gave it another shot.  “What about Matriarch Benezia?  Can you tell me her whereabouts?”

“Lady Benezia departed on the passenger tramway to the Rift Station subsidiary labs.  User Alert: The tram system is currently inoperable.”

Shepard sat back on her heels.  “Benezia crossed over to the hot labs and shut everything down.  Why?”

“So we couldn’t follow her?”  Garrus suggested.  “Maybe she wasn’t worried about the Code Omega or the antimatter strike, as long as she got what she needed.”

Tali tilted her head.  “What did she need?  It’s not like she could take an army of… contaminants with her, not without help.”

“When we find her, we’ll ask.”  Shepard focused on their more immediate problems.  “We need those landlines to hook the VI into Rift Station, and we need the generator to power the tram.  Anyone know anything about nuclear reactors?”

Mira interjected, “I am available to walk untrained personnel through the relevant procedure to restore functionality.”

“Wonderful.”  Shepard pointed at her squad.  “Alpha Team will see to the landlines on the roof.  Bravo Team, the reactor’s all yours.  Maintain radio contact and rendezvous here when we’re done.”

Williams nodded.  “Yes, ma’am.  See you on the other side.”

Bravo Team departed for the reactor.  Shepard turned to her squad.  “About that roof access point, Liara?”

She nodded.  “Follow me.”

Three more of the escaped creatures waited for them on the roof, along with a good dozen of the larvae.  The latter left pools of acidic offal wherever they fell.  Shepard wondered if they’d ever entirely rid themselves of the stink.  She scraped her boot off best she could.

Alenko shoved the last of the remains away from the landlines console.  “So, what, they can operate elevators now?”

“We already knew they could open doors,” she noted grimly.  The notion of an army of creatures this tough and evidently at least as intelligent as dogs made her fervently glad she decided to pursue this link between Saren and Binary Helix.  Hopefully she could nip those plans in the bud, here and now.

“Maybe they crawled outside, and climbed along the tunnel exterior,” Garrus speculated, more as a comfort than anything else.  It was true the hallways they passed through had curved sides of glass displaying the craggy walls of the caves or steep ravines along which they were built, but they found no access hatches or even cracks.

The “roof” was hardly more than a gap in the mountainside.  A corrugated metal sheet suspended high over their heads attempted to keep snow from accumulating on the deck, but it still crept in around the edges where they met the rock walls sheathed in ice.  Shepard could only wonder at the weight of snow and ice that must be lying on the sloping cantina-style roof.  With the creatures dead it was quite quiet; they were so deep within the mountain that the wind was nonexistent.  So quiet, in fact, she could almost hear the hushed hiss of one flake meeting another as they drifted gently to the ground. 

“Get those landlines resynced,” she said, not looking back.  “I’m going to explore a bit.”

A little to her surprise, Liara padded along silently beside her.  The snow drifts became deeper as they moved aft, first ankle deep, then knee- or even hip-deep in places.  The rooftop had gone neglected for most of the storm, maybe longer- how many years had it been since the last time the landlines needed any attention?  It wasn’t like Noveria had spring melts.

They neared the back wall.  Here, the gap between the roof and mountain widened, enough to allow a shuttle flown by a very steady hand to land.  Which was exactly what they found sitting in a pile of snow-covered ice, where it melted and refroze beneath the heat of the retrorockets. 

It was an NDC shuttle, marked and numbered, though of its crew there was no sign.  Shepard brushed the snow from its pizoelectrically opaqued ports, but on this setting there was no hope of seeing inside.  “It’s cold, and this snow cover is thick.  Nobody’s used this in…”

But Shepard had no sense of weather and couldn’t say how long it took for that much snow to accumulate, except that it looked like a very great while, days.  Liara brushed her hand along the sliding side door and found the handle.  It pulled open easily at her touch, showering the interior in snow.  The craft was utilitarian; more comfortable than military shuttles, but none of the luxuries Shepard would expect for executive ease.  A duty vessel then, not one for enticing new clients or coddling existing ones.  There was no sign of the pilot or any passengers. 

Liara climbed aboard and sat in the pilot’s couch, bringing the instrumentation online.

“Going somewhere?” Shepard asked lightly, but the asari refused to hear the joke.

“This shuttle isn’t much different from the ones I used to rent for research expeditions.”  Liara began searching for the log.  “I should be able to pull its manifest and heading.”

“As soon as this is over, you can get back to your studies.”  Shepard meant it to sound reassuring, but it came out charitably naïve, or disingenuous at worst.

Liara continued scrolling through the records.  “Maybe it seems that way to someone accustomed to having her life torn apart.”

The comment stung, as it was meant to.  Shepard stopped trying to play the role of the sister or the friend Liara clearly didn’t want, and became all business.  “What can you find?”

“This was my mother’s shuttle.”  The words were empty.  “ERCS flew her out six days ago, despite the weather, though if these readings are correct the blizzard worsened considerably between then and now.  Officially, she went to investigate the Code Omega.”

“This isn’t a landing pad.  Benezia instructed the pilot to set down here and bypass the garage.”

“She must have already suspected what happened.”

“So Saren was in charge of this breeding program, or whatever you want to call it.”  That was a depressing if expected confirmation. 

Liara continued her findings.  “The crates of geth were brought in a separate shuttle.  There’s no record of their landing coordinates.”

“We have to assume there were more than the few we found in Central Station.”  If they were lucky, by now the loose experiments and the geth would have significantly reduced each other’s numbers.  If they weren’t, Benezia had control of the creatures remaining in the labs and simply didn’t care about those already loose.

The asari copied the log to her omni-tool and rose to leave.  However, as she reached the door, something caught her eye.  She stooped and pulled a bag from under one of the seats.  Shepard peered at it.  “What’s that?”

It was leather, a fashionably cut and expensive satchel, with a drawstring closure.  Liara held it on her knees and stared into its mouth.  Her voice was rough.  “Toiletries.  She must have forgotten them.”

She reached in, sifting the contents through her fingers.  “Armali perfume.  700 credits an ounce, her favorite.”

Shepard crouched in the snow just beyond the shuttle’s sliding hatch, folding her arms on the shuttle floor.  “Your mother isn’t herself.  You saw Shiala.  You’ve seen my memories through the lens of the cipher.  You have to hold onto that.”

Her hand was wrapped around the slender bottle in a death grip.  “How can she be indoctrinated to do these terrible things, but still enough herself to pack her favorite perfume?”

The commander regarded her evenly.  “Are you ready to hear some truth, Liara?”

“What do you mean?”

Shepard’s words were steady, though not unkind.  “I’ve read your mother’s history.  Nine centuries is a lot to take in, so I’m sure you’re more familiar with it, but it was obvious Benezia was a high-level political operative for the Asari Republics.  Some of that seems to come with being a matriarch but a lot of it was her, her intelligence and charisma and drive, and the things she wanted to do with them.”

Liara still didn’t look up.  “She never told me much about her work.”

It was something she’d said before, often.  Shepard shook her head.  “I’m not her equal, but I’ve done a lot of things of which I’m not entirely proud in service to my people.  Keeping the peace isn’t always an honorable or pretty job.  Lady Benezia’s been implicated in some of-“

“Get to your point, if you have one.” 

Shepard touched her free hand, tentatively, gently.  “My point is that she was packing the perfume for a long time, Liara.  The difference is before it was for the good of the asari, freely given, and now it’s compelled by the will of Saren.”

Her head lowered further, drooping to the floor, until all Shepard could see were her head crenellations.  But she didn’t withdraw her hand, fingers only curling tighter on hers.  “I never wanted to believe that.”

“It’s up to you to figure out which parts of her are most important.  My mom is... detached, and a slave to her job, and bad at… listening, but she’s always loved me, and most of the time I try to remember that.”  Shepard squeezed her hand earnestly.  “But right now, I really need you to pull together.  You wanted in on this mission.  If you can’t handle it-“

Her head snapped up and her eyes flashed.  “I can handle it.”

“You’ve been like a mannequin since we left Port Hanshan.  You only seem to wake up when we’re in imminent danger or I ask you a direct question.” 

“I’ll be fine.  I want to see this through to the end.  I want to hear what she has to say.”  For the first time, there was a break in Liara’s rigid neutrality, some real passion behind her words, something not filtered by careful self-control.  “I want her to look at me and tell me why.”

“Ok.”  Shepard wasn’t sure if it would hold, but for the moment it worked.  She rose, pulling Liara with her.  “We’ve got work to do now.”

She nodded, and followed without resistance- but Shepard saw her slip the fragile bottle into a utility pouch as they left the shuttle behind.

Garrus and Alenko were leaning against the terminal, waiting, with arms folded.  The lieutenant straightened as she approached.  “Landlines are connected and fully rebooted, ma’am.  Mira is in touch with the sub-stations.”

Snow had drifted into his dark hair and stuck between the strands.  She had to resist a sudden urge to dust it off.  Instead, she hooked her thumbs into her utility belt.  “Good.  Head for the rendezvous point.  Hopefully Bravo Team’s got the reactor back and we can finish this.”

They weren’t left waiting long.  When they reached the power junction, each unit was already lit up and humming.  The lights were coming back online in series, room by room.  Soon after Wrex, Williams, and Tali joined them, smiling. 

“The He-3 lines were cut off,” Tali explained.  “It was simple to fix.”

“Resistance?” Shepard asked. 

“Not anymore,” Williams said with smug satisfaction.

Wrex clarified with a grunt.  “Geth.  Maybe a half dozen.  You?”

“More of those acid-breathed bastards.  If we want to avoid the orbital strike, we’ll need to find a way to clear them all out.”

“Assuming none of them left the facility.  Cold doesn’t seem to bother them.”  Wrex grinned, as though he rather liked the notion.  “They could survive, live wild in the hills.”

There was a pleasant thought.  Shepard rolled her eyes.  “Let’s not suggest that to NDC.  We need to find that tramway.”

Holographic signs posted in the hallways illuminated the way to the Decontamination and Transit Hub.  As they approached the station, however, Mira’s artificial voice erupted from the intercom.  “User alert.  Loose contaminants in the decontamination chamber.  Access to passenger tramways inadvisable.”

Alenko glanced towards the speaker, brow furrowed.  “Isn’t that a little oxymoronic?  I mean, the point of a decontamination chamber is to get rid of contaminants.”

The final hatch opened.  Shepard regarded the scene.  “Yes, I think that’s exactly what it’s designed to do.”

Several of the creatures were trapped in another glass airlock, their pincers and pointed legs scrabbling at its smooth sides.  Their screams of frustrated rage were continuous if muted by the walls.  There was a thin strip of ceramic nozzles connected to external hosing penetrating the glass tube. 

Tali blinked twice.  “Are those plasma jets?”

The airlock’s security terminal stood waiting.  Shepard examined the menu.  “It would appear so.”

Williams was unsettled.  “What, they just vaporize any ‘contaminants’ they don’t like?”

“Given what they were working with?”  Shepard shrugged.  “Makes a kind of sense.”

She tried scanning the stolen ident card.  Unsurprisingly, garage staff did not have clearance to activate the decontamination protocols.  “Tali, I need an override here.”

While Tali worked, Shepard watched the creatures.  Had they walked all the way down the tram line after Benezia cut the power?  Or had she cut it to limit the creatures’ mobility, knowing they could operate a tram?  Was the power outage to slow her down or slow them down- or both?

“He has a geth army,” she said aloud.  “What the hell does he want with an organic one?”

Garrus shrugged.  “Who wouldn’t want an army that comes with its own built-in armor and weapons?”

Alenko had a different idea.  “What if the geth thing is a partnership?  The geth are in this because they want to see their ‘gods’ return, right?  So maybe Saren just wants to wipe out humans, or seize the galaxy, and needs units under his complete control.”

“He has indoctrination for that,” Shepard pointed out.  “But who knows if it works on software as well as on brains?”

Tali interrupted their idle musing.  “Permission to fire?”

Shepard turned back towards the airlock.  “Do it.”

White-hot flames spurted from each nozzle, small, but powerful.  Shepard expected the creatures to char, but the heat was far too much for that.  They melted.  The segmented carapaces softened, buckled, deformed.  Legs collapsed one by one.  She watched with a kind of morbid fascination, simultaneously intrigued and repulsed. 

The jets kept running until no life signs registered in the tube.  There was little but sludge remaining.  They cracked the outer hatch and the smell almost knocked them over.  Nobody wanted to take the first step inside.

In the quiet that followed, Shepard asked at last, “We’re sure the protocol is deactivated?”

“Yes,” Tali said firmly.  “I triple-checked it.”

“Check it again.”

The remains were sufficiently compelling that Tali didn’t even argue.  She tapped at the terminal.  “We’re clear.”

Shepard stepped into the airlock before she could think about it too hard.  The hatch slid shut, the standard decontam protocol- same as on the _Normandy_ \- swept over her, and the far hatch split open.  She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. 

By the time the rest of the squad piled in and cleared decontam, she figured out a very basic strategy.  “We make for the tram.  Whatever we need to clear to get there, we clear, but the second we’re aboard we roll.  We can worry about the hostiles left at Central Station once our primary objective is met.”

“And what is that, ma’am?” Williams asked.

Shepard expelled an exasperated sigh.  “To stop Benezia.”

“How-“

“Won’t know until we figure out what the hell she and Saren wanted here.”  Shepard held out both arms in an appeal for patience.  “Best I can do.  We’re figuring this one out as we go.”

The gerbil tube tunnel took a sharp left and turned into a staircase, which turned into a large hollowed-out habitat that housed the tram station.  It was cavernous, with ceilings at least four times Shepard’s own height, and long tunnels disappearing into the depths of the mountain.  Holographic markers labeled each passage.  Rift Station was nearest, and the only one with a tram parked at the platform. 

They were halfway to the tram when the hissing started.

It came from all directions, growing in volume and number, and joined by skittering and the occasional cry.  Shepard remembered Wrex’s comment that the creatures were hunting, and never felt a stronger instinct to vacate a situation as soon as humanly possible, a sense of being prey.  Most armchair philosophers got fight-or-flight wrong.  It didn’t define two categories of people.  Possessing a fight-or-flight instinct meant the ability to do one or the other when appropriate, to avoid the paralysis of indecision, and in this particular circumstance the smartest thing to do was get the hell out.

She pointed her gun towards the shadows and gestured her team forward.  “Keep moving.  Quickly.”

They ran on ahead of her.  She was happy to bring up the rear, laying down enough cover fire to make the gathering shadows think twice about leaping.  The group moved steadily towards the tram.  The bugs crept steadily closer, beginning to flank them. 

Shepard was the last one aboard.  She slammed the sliding door shut and secured it as best she could, but it wasn’t meant to lock.  “Someone get this damn thing moving.”

Alenko hit a button.  On the tram intercom, Mira’s voice announced smoothly, “This tram is departing for Rift Station in sixty seconds.  For your safety, please ensure all clothing and other items are free of the tram doors.”

Beyond the glass, the creatures were forming up to rush the tram.  Shepard imagined enough of them, in force, could push the tram off its rails.  Breaking the glass would be a parlor trick.  “Override!  We need to depart immediately!”

“Trying!”  Tali said, her voice strained. 

Silently, the others lined up beside Shepard, sighting on their targets outside the tram.  Shepard held her rifle steady.  “Hold your fire until they breach the glass.  Let’s not make this easier for them.”

“This tram is departing for Rift Station in thirty seconds.  For your safety-“

As one, the creatures flung themselves at the tram.

It rocked with the force of the impact, teetering sideways.  Shepard was ready for it and kept her footing.  Liara was knocked to her knees and Tali slammed into the side wall, interrupting her work.  Shepard could hear her cursing to herself. 

Their enemy backed away, just enough to make another run, and charged once more.  It was less organized this time, with individuals striking at different moments before backing off to run at it again.  Cracks began to appear in the windows.  Shepard pressed against the trigger, ready to fire on the next assault.  “Here they come.”

“This tram is departing for Rift Station in ten seconds,” Mira announced, still unruffled by events.

The final wave struck the tram just as it lurched and began accelerating down the tunnel.  Several creatures jumped onto empty air.  One was scraped off on the tunnel wall as it narrowed leaving the station.  And one erupted through the window, tearing at the seats as it struggled to arrest its momentum inside the cabin.

Shepard barely turned before it tensed for another leap, to bring its whip-like pincers into range.  _Damn, this thing is fast._

Far too fast to aim with any reliability, so she simply pointed at the red blur and held down the trigger.  In such confines, with the single hostile unit so outnumbered, the outcome was inevitable no matter how graceless the plan.  Confused by the barrage and in considerable pain, it attempted to burrow into the cushions as though they were soft earth rather than vinyl covering a thin sheet of polyurethane foam.  It died half-curled over a bench. 

Several of the lights dangled from the ceiling on thin wires, smashed or flickering, and the interior of the tram resembled a ground zero disaster zone, but the car itself remained intact and hurtled down its rails as smoothly as ever. 

Calmly, almost delicately, Shepard sat down in the one remaining untouched seat and crossed her legs to wait out the ride.

Rift Station’s tram depot was not as large or ostentatious as Central Station’s, but it was even more abandoned.  Though an attack was half-expected, there was no sign of the creatures anywhere.  They followed the directional labels adorning the walls a short distance to an elevator marked “Hot Labs”, only to find it locked down.  The one beside it, however, was not.  The posted signage indicated it led upstairs to housing and security. 

Shepard pressed the call button.  If the loss of power and the runaway experiments left any survivors, this was the mostly likely area to find them, and she wanted answers.  At the very least, the scientists should be able to explain their creations. 

When they arrived on the upper floor, they found themselves facing three unwavering rifle barrels across a barricade of overturned lab benches and supply crates. 

“Stand down,” Shepard called, keeping her hands in plain view.  “We’re here to help.”

After a moment’s hesitation, a dark man in white and blue armor emblazoned with Binary Helix’s corporate logo lowered his weapon.  “Sorry.  We couldn’t be sure what was on the tram when we saw it come in.”

He nodded towards a bank of windows overlooking the Rift Station Transport Hub.  Shepard looked back at him.  “Can those things operate a tram?”

“Fuck if I know.”  He shook his head.  She noticed then that all of the guards were harried and beyond exhausted, with that wild look to their eyes that indicated heavy stim use.  Their leader continued, “You’re clearly not a bug, but the station’s sealed off and I’ve never seen you or your people before in my life.  Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a spectre, sent by the Council to find Matriarch Benezia.”  It was close enough to the truth.  She held out her hand.  “Shepard.  And you are…?”

“Captain Ventralis.  I head up the security team for this outpost.”  He shook her hand with a nice firm grip.  “Between the hot labs and the secure research area, Rift Station needs a little more than the rest of the facility.”

“What happened here, Captain?”

He ran his hand over his bald pate wearily.  “The aliens overran the hot labs last week.  Only Han Olar made it out, and… well, he ain’t exactly all there anymore, you know?  Next thing I know, they’re clawing into my security office.  Took us by surprise.  We lost a third of our detachment in the first few minutes before we rallied and drove them back.  Now, we get attacks hourly, testing our defenses.”

“That’s damn hard,” Shepard said, meaning every word.  She folded her arms and tilted her head.  “What are they?  The bugs, I mean.”

“Don’t know.  Don’t really care.  I don’t need a name to shoot them.”  He shrugged.  “It was a highly confidential project.  Maybe under the circumstances you can talk one of the scientists into elaborating.”

Alenko cut in.  “So there are other survivors?”

Ventralis nodded.  “About a dozen or so, yeah.  The board sent some asari to clean up the mess- maybe your matriarch.  She disappeared into the secure labs and locked things down tight.  I’m sorry if you wasted a trip.”

Shepard glanced between the barricade and the elevator.  “Your alien bugs didn’t stay in the hot labs.  They’ve overrun the place, all the way to the garage in Central Station.”

“Damn it.  That’s worse than I thought.” 

Tali folded her arms.  “What exactly is a ‘hot lab’?”

“The kind that exists to do stupid crap that gets people killed.”  Ventralis spat.  “It’s built into a glacier, an old, thick, stable one.  If something goes wrong, they heat up the whole lab block and sink it into the ice.  Hence the name.”

“Right.”  Shepard nodded to herself.  “Ok.  Can I speak with your scientists?”

“Sure thing.  Just give me a sec.”  He relayed instructions to his team, and then gestured towards her.  “This way.”

As they walked, Shepard made small talk, hoping to pry out a little more information.  “How are your people holding up?”

“It ain’t been easy.”  He sighed.  “We’re staying on top of things with long shifts and mandatory stims.  I don’t like it, but all the options here are bad.  The ERCS folks the asari brought with are helping out a bit.”

“She didn’t take them with her?”

“No, only her own people, more asari.  Carrying a boatload of gear, too, in these huge crates.  Made us round up the pallet lifts.  Shit was heavy as hell.”

So commandos and geth surrounded Benezia down in the labs.  Shepard tucked that away for future consideration.  Ventralis opened a hatch and waved her through.  “These are the central barracks and sick bay.  We fell back here after the attack.  Anyone left alive is in these rooms.  Good luck.”

“Thanks.”  She watched him go with narrowed eyes, then rubbed her forehead. 

“Ma’am?” Williams asked.

“They’re working for her,” Shepard stated flatly.  “The captain’s the first person on Noveria to have no reaction to my spectre rank, and they’ve been cut off from all communication.   Benezia warned him we might be coming.”

Garrus was unconvinced.  “That’s a big leap.”

“It feels right.”  Shepard rubbed at her eyes with thumb and forefinger, trying to wipe away the veil of tiredness slowly creeping in.  The drive up the mountain was exhausting in its own right, and the clock was moving towards midnight. 

“It sounds like mother,” Liara volunteered, unexpectedly.  “She would not want people unnecessarily hurt.  She wouldn’t instruct the guards to fight a spectre unless there was no other way.  Instead, they waylay us.”

Alenko shook his head.  “Bottling us up with the scientists.”

“What are we waiting for, then?”  Wrex’s brow lifted higher over his eyes, speculative.  “Let’s find a door and break it down.”

Shepard wasn’t ready for such drastic action.  “I want to know what they were breeding here.  I want to know if Saren was their only client.  And I want to know what defenses Benezia might have at her disposal besides those she brought in herself.”

Williams watched the scientists, huddled in groups towards the far side of the room casting the occasional furtive glance towards the _Normandy_ squad, the stone-faced ERCS and Binary Helix guards with their rifles relaxed in their hands, the powered down terminals lining the walls, and bit her lip.  “It doesn’t look like anyone’s going to tell us much, ma’am.”

“They’ll talk, Chief.”  Shepard abandoned the doorway to move into the room. 

The space was the very definition of utilitarian with its unpolished, cross-hatched metal floor, powder-coated portable countertops, and military-issue cots.  Corrugated steel staircases led right to more bunk space and left to the med bay.  Equipment storage lockers formed lonesome islands in the middle of the room with their electronic locks blinking perfunctorily at nothing.  With the power restored, the fluorescent bulbs dangling from wire mounts were at full force, washing the air in sterile colorless light. 

There wasn’t so much as a cheesy corporate promotional poster in sight, Shepard noted.  This lab was entirely preoccupied with bare functionality.  Or, put another way, Binary Helix never expected outsiders to see it.  Compared to the ostentatious splendor of Central Station with its high ceilings and thick glass windows, Rift Station was a desert.  The work must be highly proprietary.

The survivors comprised a mix of species, mostly human, but interspersed with asari, salarian, and even an elcor, brooding quietly in a corner.  Their expressions were that curious mix of dog-tired and terrified one got after a week of living under siege.  Conversation was hushed.  When Shepard questioned them, she didn’t learn much aside from none of them survivors were allowed in the most secured labs, where the casualties had been the worst, and had no idea the creatures existed until the containment breach. 

Shepard recalled Ventralis’ mention of the volus, Han Olar, who managed a harrowing escape from the hot labs, and made her way down to med bay, hoping to speak with him.  Instead, she found a worried doctor moving from bed to bed with a defeated air as he attended to prone patients.  “Excuse me.  Can I have a few minutes of your time?”

He straightened and turned towards her, removing the cigarette from his mouth.  “And you are?”

“Commander Shepard, Council Spectre,” she said, keeping it brief.  “Smoking around your patients?”

“It’s important for my nerves.  I’m a microbiologist, not a medic.  Zev Cohen at your service.”  He offered her a rather old-fashioned bow suffused with more weary courtesy than sarcasm and took another drag.  “I don’t suppose you have a smoke on you?  This is my last one.”

“I wish, but no.”  Shepard smoked on occasion, but cigarettes were more recreation than habit, something to relieve the tension when she was back on Arcturus waiting for the next mission.  Not that she hadn’t wanted one lately.  She jerked her chin towards the patients.  “What’s wrong with them?  They don’t look like they got mauled by those things.”

“No, most of those who came within reach of the creatures didn’t survive long enough to require medical care.  But that was hardly the only experiment in progress, when the power went down.”

An asari sitting cross-legged on one of the beds rolled her eyes languorously.  Shepard furrowed her brow, and the woman heaved a sigh.  “What?”

“You don’t look sick.”

“I’m not sick,” she explained as if to a toddler.  “I’m _meditating_.”

Shepard was dubious.  “It looked more like you were mocking the doctor.”

She made a sound of disgust and shifted her gaze towards the ceiling as if she couldn’t possibly be more annoyed.  “I suppose it might look that way, to a human.”

Shepard’s patience wore thin.  “Who are you?”

If she’d been human, she would have flipped her hair, but as it was, the asari simply leveled her look.  “Alestia Iallis.  Don’t strain your monkey vocal chords trying to say it.  Molecular geneticist.  I specialize in biotic-enhanced allele specific hybridization.”

Shepard recognized Iallis was trying to make her feel stupid with garbled jargon, and didn’t rise to the bait.  Instead, she returned her attention to the doctor.  “These people were exposed to some sort of… what, bio-weapon?”

“We test our fail-safes monthly, but quarantine procedures were disrupted in one of the labs.  We had to lock it down manually.  By then, a good half-dozen people were exposed.”  He tutted.  “If I had my equipment, it would be a simple manner to treat, but those hare-brained idiots from security didn’t see fit to retrieve it before sealing the facility.”

It didn’t escape Shepard’s notice that the doctor refused to confirm the nature of the toxin.  She decided it didn’t matter, at least not right now.  “I’m looking for Han Olar.  I hoped to find him here.”

“My apologies, Commander.  He wanted to return to his old quarters downstairs.  I thought it might be best for his mental health to allow it.  Han is… quite shaken by events.”

“Lost his mind, is what you mean,” Iallis muttered, contemptuous. 

Cohen gave the asari a nervous glance and tugged at his lab tunic.  “Yes, well.  Perhaps I can beg a favor of you, Commander?”

“Maybe we can help each other.  I’m looking for an asari matriarch, Benezia.”

His eyes slid briefly back to Iallis, who glared, and he cleared his throat.  “She’s within the secure labs.  I don’t know any more than that.”

Shepard turned her most intimidating stare on the asari biologist.  “What about you?  Know anything?”

“Why don’t you ask your friend?”  She pointed to Liara.

Liara drew herself up, glaring as well.  “Because I don’t know anything about the matriarch.”

“Then why should I?” Iallis drawled, with a deprecating smile.  “It’s not like all humans know each other.”

Shepard’s eyes lingered on her a few moments longer than was strictly necessary before addressing Cohen.  “You want me to retrieve your supplies.”

He nodded.  “Captain Ventralis has refused my pleas for entry, but a spectre’s voice might carry more weight.”

Shepard snorted.  “I wouldn’t count on it.  Is he right to keep the lab sealed?”

“No,” Cohen answered emphatically.  “The… period of viability is extraordinarily brief.  After that, it breaks down into simple protein chains.  We’re well outside that window now.  But the man dismisses anything he deems ‘technobabble’ out-of-hand.”

“You can’t blame him for being cautious.”  Shepard glanced back at the patients.  “If I find myself near your quarantined lab, I’ll see what I can do.  No promises.”

“Thank you.  That’s all I can ask.”  The doctor watched them depart.

Shepard was halfway up the stairs before she heard him exclaim something about forgetting to give directions, and then he hurried out into the hall, waving to get her attention.  “Commander!”

Shepard paused, looking over her shoulder.  “Doctor?”

He stepped closer and lowered his voice.  “The guards have been on edge, waiting for you.  They’re not to let you through, do you understand me?  They’re in your matriarch’s pocket.”

She regarded him.  “What do you suggest?”

“I did some of my work in the secure labs.  Help me retrieve my equipment, help me spare these people, and I’ll give you my access.”

Her squad exchanged glances.  Shepard drew her rifle and checked it over.  “Where to?”

“I’ll show you.  It’s just down the elevator.  Follow me.”  Cohen took off at a rapid walk, almost a jog, forcing Shepard to run a bit to catch up.

“You seem nervous,” she remarked.

“Aliens invaded my lab and killed my colleagues.  We spent the first few hours after lockdown showering off the blood and brains.  How am I supposed to behave?” 

They crowded into the elevator and Cohen hit the button, his hand shaking a bit.  “You don’t know what they’re like,” he said quietly.

Her brow furrowed.  “What who’s like?”

But the doctor simply stared at the door and waited for it to be over.

The elevator spilled them into a low-ceilinged room thick with pipes and the hum of serious computer equipment.  He strode briskly to a vault-like hatch looked after by a turian in a Binary Helix security team hard suit.  The guard gave him a bored stare.  “We’ve been through this, Zev.  I’m not opening up against orders.  Get lost.”

Cohen folded his arms and looked down his nose imperiously.  “Not this time.  I’ve a spectre with me.” 

He gestured to Shepard.  The turian burst out laughing.  “There aren’t any human spectres.”

Shepard shot Garrus a smug glance, validating her earlier extrapolation of Ventralis’ lack of surprise, and put a hand to her ear to activate the comm link.  Finding the correct frequency was trivial; they weren’t using any scrambling.  “Commander Shepard to Captain Ventralis, come in.”

There was a pause.  Shepard’s eyes never left the turian’s face as the communication played through both their comms.  “Spectre.  What do you need?”

“Access to your quarantine lab.  Order your man to stand down.”

“God, I wish we could help those guys, I really do.  But we can’t risk an outbreak now.”

“Captain, this isn’t the moment for timidity.  You’ve lost enough friends and colleagues.  I’ve got Dr. Cohen here and he assures me there is no risk.”

The next several seconds stretched.  The link crackled.  “You want to gamble with your life, that’s your business.  We’re locking you in.  When you’re ready to leave, sensors are going to sample every inch of you.  Even a _hint_ of contamination, and you’re going to stay in there.”

“That’s fair.”  She folded her arms and stared at the turian.  “Open the door.”

Ventralis said, “Stand down, Sergeant.”

He grumbled, but began working the electronic lock affixed beside the hatch.  Shepard smiled.  “Thank you, Captain.  Shepard out.”

The hatch lock turned green.  The turian eyed her sullenly.  “You got a death wish, lady, that’s your problem.  I’d recommend manning the barricade over this.”

There was another piece of information she wanted, and her instinct told her that if she pushed now, she could have it.  “Please.  All you’ve faced since the initial assault are probing attacks.”

“Fuck you.” He jabbed a finger in her chest.  “We lost good people-“

“Don’t I know it.”  She carefully avoided crossing the line into mocking their loss- that was tasteless and the goal wasn’t to provoke him into an outright attack- but she kept her tone light enough to be offensive.  “It’s not surprising a bunch of overcooked shrimp caused this kind of damage.  Some professional advice?  Three coordinated guys could take this place.”

She had the attention of the entire room.  Cohen was open-mouthed with shock, her team was confused, and the turian guard was simply enraged.  His anger was cold and sharp.  “You don’t know shit.  Narrow tunnels and limited access points make the facility more defensible than it looks.  That’s without counting the automated defenses, like our mobile turrets.”

Shepard curled the fingers of her gloved hand idly as if examining her fingernails.  “Turrets can be overridden.”

“We’ve got alarms, and cameras.”  He ticked them off one by one.  “Everything routes through a central office and good luck breaching that.  It’s the only way you can take the defenses offli-“  His brain finally caught up to his mouth, which snapped shut with a clack of his mandibles, chagrined. 

“Thank you, Sergeant, for that illuminating speech.”  She offered him a crisp smile.  “Man, I can’t imagine why the Hierarchy navy chucked you out.”

“They didn’t kick me out.  I was discharged after I served my term,” he answered, stiffly. 

“Of course.”  She slid past him into the lab airlock, and turned around.  “Dr. Cohen, if you’d join me.  We shouldn’t be long.”

The hatch shut behind them, the air automatically purged to clean-room levels, and they were admitted to the quarantine lab proper.  Equipment abandoned-in-place sat strewn across the counters and floor, where it was knocked over in the scientists’ haste to evacuate.  The door to the walk-in refrigerator stood open.  Shepard stuck her head in.  Wire racks stacked high with test tubes, petri dishes, and all manner of chemical compounds stood waiting, condensation slick across their surfaces. 

Cohen went to a desk and began sorting through the contents, throwing things into a bag he found tucked in the kneehole.  “You did that on purpose.”

He sounded as if he didn’t know whether to be upset or concerned.  She paced the room, examining the remnants of the laboratory.  “Anger’s the best interrogation technique I know.  I needed information about how this place is defended and it wasn’t like they were going to just tell me.”

“They might have.”

She gave him a cynical and somewhat amused look.  “You don’t believe that.”

He answered with chilly silence, stone-faced as he continued stuffing the bag with gear.  Shepard continued her inspection. 

After a minute or two, there was a crash from outside the lab.  Shepard’s hand flew to her sidearm.  “What was that?”

He glanced toward the door.  “Another attack?”

Anything they could hear through the quarantine airlock had to be awful loud.  The crash was followed by the sound of the airlock cycling, a hiss of air and electronics.  Shepard took aim.  “Get into cover.”

“Cover-“

“The refrigerator.  Go.”

The doctor half-ran across the lab, pulling the door shut behind him.  Shepard took another careful step forward.  The hatch slid open.

Her eyes widened.  “You know, I ought to be less surprised.”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”  Alestia Iallis stepped sideways, her own gun drawn, unwavering, while her left hand glowed with the telltale sign of a primed biotic attack.  “How in this era of interspecies cooperation as soon as the term ‘racist bitch’ comes to mind, it blinds us to everything else.”

“But I suppose I’d know that, if I wasn’t such a primate?”  Shepard grinned without humor.

“So it wasn’t entirely an act.”  She returned the smile.  “Can you disagree?  Look how easily I cornered you.  My… staff should be making quick work of your squad.”   


“Don’t be so sure.”  They were circling each other now, one wary step after the next, trying to subtly gain some sort of cover, or distraction, before the other could.  “My people are the best, and nobody had to brainwash them into service.”

Iallis’ grin faded.  “Your mission ends now, Shepard.  I was ordered to eliminate you should the opportunity arise, and here we are.”

“And the guard?  Were you ordered to eliminate him too?”  Out of the corner of her eye, Shepard spied a potentially useful pipe, supplying the lab with hot water.  Just another step… “You may be a sleeper agent for Benezia, but I don’t think that one’s in her playbook.”

“He was in my way.  And I don’t think you know her very well.”

Shepard lunged for the pipe valve at the same time Iallis fired. 

The shot struck one of the ceramic plates affixed to her chest and Shepard felt it crack under the impact.  _What the hell is with tiny people and high-caliber guns?_ But her gloved hand closed on the valve and yanked it open, flooding the room with boiling steam and the gush of water. 

More bullets followed in rapid succession, but without more than a shadow to aim at, all missed.  Shepard kept moving.  A ball of blue tinged energy cut through the fog and smacked unerringly into her back, causing her to stumble.  Her skin felt like it was on fire, but as all her muscles kept moving, she ignored it.  Pain was simply a form of organic alarm.  With sufficient training it could be shut out enough to remain functional.

She returned fire, not having any better line of sight but tracking the asari by her footsteps.  Wrex was wrong.  Killing people wasn’t fun.  It was messy and somewhat awful, and not infrequently involved a certain amount of paperwork.  Being really, really good at shooting guns, though- that was fun.  She heard the tell-tale warble of a shield going down and then a cry of pain. 

Another shot, not as successful.  A shatter of glass as it hit some delicate instrument or other.  Her face twitched, annoyed.  Across the room, plastic snapped under Iallis’ boot.  The asari was pissed off.  “You can’t hide for fucking ever.”

Apparently, Iallis was under the impression the first two shots were luck.  Shepard fired into the steam again to prove her wrong.  There was a surprised yelp.  Not a serious hit, then, but the woman stopped talking. 

Iallis had a point.  The temperature of the water was falling rapidly now that the line was exposed to the air.  Her artificial fog wouldn’t hold up much longer, and she had a bruise the size of her spread hand welling up on her chest from the asari’s opening round.  Her armor wouldn’t last against that kind of firepower. 

Shepard narrowly dodged another blind biotic attack by ducking behind a desk at the last moment, too late for the orb to alter its trajectory.  There was a microscope sitting atop it.  She seized it in one hand, held her pistol outstretched in the other, and charged through the remaining steam. 

The second she glimpsed the asari, she flung the scope as hard as she could.  It didn’t miss.  While Iallis was distracted, she shot out her shield, and kept her finger on the trigger as she smoothly added a second hand for steadier aim.  Her opponent slumped to the floor where blood began to pool beneath her body.

Shepard wasn’t going to leave anything to chance.  As she approached, Iallis managed to roll onto her back through dint of great effort, wheezing unsteadily.  She stared up at Shepard and began to laugh, the ragged, pulpy laughter of shredded lungs, as she took in the biotic-singed and dented armor.  “Where’s your shield, you damned idiot?”

“Well,” Shepard said, kicking her gun out of reach and squatting beside her, “I wanted to make sure you got a fair fight.”

Iallis managed one last contemptuous eye roll before her head lolled and the rigidity left her body, relaxing into the final rest.  With clinical distance Shepard confirmed death with an omni-tool scan.  The sounds from outside the lab had quieted.  She hoped that was good news.

The refrigerator door cracked open, timidly, and Cohen stepped out.  He caught sight of the corpse and blanched.

Shepard looked up mildly.  “Alright there, doc?”

“I told you, I’m not a medic.”  His face was a faint shade of green.  “All these theatrics are a bit beyond me.”

“Got what you need?”

He nodded.  “Please, let’s just… let’s just go.”

The touted sensors cleared them easily, and the outer hatch of the lab opened on a scene of chaos.  Several of the ceiling pipes were leaking fluid, bullets pockmarked the walls and floor, and inactive geth chassis lay in pieces all around them.  The obstinate turian guard was dead at her feet.  Shepard stepped over him.

“Report,” she barked.

“Hostiles neutralized.  No friendly casualties,” Alenko relayed dutifully.  “There are a few scientists hiding out in the bunks.  They scattered when the geth showed up with that asari.”

“Where did they come from?”

Garrus winced and rolled his shoulder, massaging it.  “Not sure.  They came up from behind.  Got me good a couple of times before I realized what was happening.”

A shaky voice overlaid by heavy-duty breathing apparatus issued from behind a server rack.  “I may be able to address that question.”

He was small, less than 120 centimeters, dressed toes to nose in an envirosuit.  Unlike quarians, who wore the suits to protect their delicate immune systems, volus like this man had ammonia-based biochemistry.  The pressures and atmospheres comfortable to all the other sentient races were poison to them.  Nothing of his anatomy was visible beneath the heavy panels, tubes, and webbing of the suit, but to Shepard volus always rather unkindly resembled overgrown raccoons, sans tails.  It was something about the thick metal-ringed lenses that allowed them to see out of their pressurized breather helms and snout-like mouth apertures which filtered their voices.  They were stocky running to fat, with stubby arms and legs, and a reputation for cut-throat trade and finance that hardly endeared them to the galaxy.  All the best bankers were volus. 

This one, however, appeared to be a scientist.  He twiddled his fingers.  “You came to find out about them, didn’t you?”

Shepard furrowed her brow.  “What, the geth?  No.”

“The rachni,” he corrected.  His respirator rasped into the sudden silence.  “The bugs.”

“That’s preposterous,” Liara said at last, but it was weak.

Wrex was outraged.  “The rachni are all dead.  My ancestors saw to that.”

Shepard didn’t think her eyebrows could climb further into her hair.  “Who are you, and what the hell do you mean, rachni?”

“My name is Han Olar.  I was assigned to the rachni project.”  He sucked in another noisy breath and let it out.  “There was an egg, on a derelict ship.  Cryogenic storage, since before the end of the wars.”  Hiss, clunk, rasp.  “Binary Helix thought they could clone it, but inside was a queen- able to produce her own workers, using the stored DNA of her fathers.”

Cohen interrupted, alarmed.  “Han, you can’t talk like that.  The non-disclosure-“

“I shit on their non-disclosure.”  He said it so flatly and without passion that it raised the hairs on Shepard’s neck.  There was nothing but emptiness behind the words.

She kept her focus on the facts.  “I need to know everything you can tell me.”

“I told you all I can.  We brought the rachni back from the dead.  In retrospect, a bad decision.”

Alenko rubbed his chin, fascinated.  “Drifting out there, all those years… that’s wild.  How’d anyone find something like that?  Can’t imagine it had much of a heat signature.”

Olar shrugged.  “That was before the rachni workers birthed by the queen reached my lab.  But there’s something wrong with them.  They act crazy.  Incoherent.  No sign of a self-preservation instinct, just… unparalleled rage.”

Tali’s voice held a trace of wonder.  “Captain Ventralis told us you were in the hot labs when the rachni got loose.  How did you survive that?  Just a handful of them almost overwhelmed us.”

“I…”  The volus trailed off.  He stared into space.  “I killed her.  We were getting on the tram, about to go to lunch, when we heard the alarms… They came pouring out.  I shut the door.  She… she banged on the window.  I shut the door.  I killed her.  They clawed at her.  Split her head like a melon.”

_Screams and thrashing in the dark.  She tore at tent flaps as she ran by.  Get out!  Move your asses!  Make for the goddamn trees- they’re too big to follow!  While all about them entire rows of tents were flying up into the air as nameless, shadowed shapes caused the ground to ripple and sink like a living thing and not a dead floor of planetary rock._

_God, she could remember their stinking breath, warm rotten air like a thousand carcasses making her sweat and gag and want to breathe shallow breathes through her mouth right when she needed oxygen most, in a flat-out run on a tropical greenhouse of a planet.  Her boots slapped against the mud._

“You couldn’t know,” Williams was saying as Shepard abruptly returned to herself, a stab at empathy.  “You did exactly right.  And you’re helping us put those bastards down for good.”

“You think I want absolution?” Olar asked, a touch sharp.  “There is none.”

Shepard looked down at the hunched figure.  “You survived and she didn’t.  Was it worth it?”

He glanced up at her.  There was no reading his expression through the suit, but something about the way he stood seemed searching and ashamed.  “I don’t know.”

“Good answer,” Shepard said, uninflected as she was honest.  “You’ll be ok.”

Strangely, that seemed to mollify him.  He nodded.  “The geth came from the maintenance tunnel.  It leads into the secure labs.”

Cohen fumbled at his belt and produced an access pass.  “Here.  Take it.  This equipment won’t do my patients much good if the geth come up and slaughter us all.”

She clipped the laminate badge beside the one from the garage staffer.  “Garrus, Tali- find that central security station.  I want all the drones and anything else you can find shut down.  Geth and a commando unit are enough to deal with.”

They glanced at each other and nodded.  Garrus said, “We’re on it.  Good luck, Shepard.”

She returned the nod and watched them take off towards the elevator.  “Olar, Cohen- anything else about Benezia?  How many people did she bring with her?”

Cohen grimaced.  It was clear that despite the urgency, he was torn between protecting his job and wanting to survive long enough for job security to matter.  “Not counting Iallis, maybe five.  Six?”

Williams swallowed.  “Six asari commandos.”

Shepard looked back at the lab where Iallis’ body lay.  “They’re not so bad.  We can do this.  Let’s go.”


	38. Little Wing

The maintenance tunnel proved to be little more than a crudely hacked passage through the ice, sized for large machinery, but without installed walls, ceiling or floor, few support beams, and no climate control.  It was a manmade cave.  They hurried through as fast as they dared, boots sliding on the ice.  Shepard swiped Cohen’s badge through a door at the far end marked “Secure Lab”.  There was a pause as the security protocols processed the input, a small eternity to wonder whether it would work, before the hatch slid into the wall on a screech of chilled rails.

The team raced along a suspended metal pathway, enclosed in gerbil tube prefabs like the rest of this place, until it widened into a large, vaulted room humming with sensitive equipment.  In the center a platform rose a full story, bearing a cylindrical glass tank the size of a small truck.  Next to it stood a tall asari woman.  Her back was to Shepard’s squad, arms wrapped about her waist as she pondered the tank’s contents.  She was swathed in an elegant black dress of an outdated style, and over it an odd ascetic jacket with a close-fit hood that left no skin visible- no pinstriped suit in sight.  A good actress, then. 

Shepard could tell by the way Liara went rigid as soon as the asari came into view that this must be Benezia.  Of her commandos, there was no sign.  This was a bad situation.  They’d be sitting ducks on the platform, but she needed to talk to Benezia, not simply shoot her.  She sucked in a breath and mounted the stairs, her team following behind.

The matriarch did not turn at their approach.  Indeed, she seemed quite unconcerned, gaze fixed on the tank.  Her voice was cadenced, almost professorial.  “You do not know the privilege of being a mother.  There is power in creation, the oldest kind of power there is, the making and shaping of life.  Primal.”  Benezia gestured towards the tank.  “Her children were to be ours, raised to hunt and slay Saren’s enemies, a screaming insatiable horde of overwhelming destruction.”

She looked at the ground and shook her head, chuckling softly.  “How foolish we were.  How arrogant.  She is so much more than that.”

Shepard’s eyes strayed to the tank.  The glass walls were so thick they distorted the light passing through, but the outline of a rachni was clear, though one quite unlike any seen previously.  It was three times larger, jet black rather than lobster red, with a heavy abdomen that dragged against the bottom of the tube.  It held itself lengthwise, the graceful segments of its thorax rising in pyramidal slopes.  Spots of white and lines of deep purple decorated the carapace.  Two luminous eyes fixed above the creature’s six mandibles, perfectly round, gazed back with a keen and penetrating stare.

Beside her, Liara could no longer hold her tongue.  “And what do _you_ know about the privileges of motherhood, except the privilege to dictate however you please?”

Benezia turned then, startled beyond all expectation.  The jacket clasped at her throat, displaying an impressive spread of cleavage, and left her gaunt face bare.  She didn’t look like Liara’s mother; she barely looked alive, so stark were her cheekbones and sunken were her eyes.  But they were the same blue, enormous and full of sentiment, and they had the same out-of-place markings across the brow.  Benezia’s lips were stained a severe black.  Deep lines etched around her nose, mouth, and along the fine bones of her hands betrayed her great age, though there was nothing of frailty about her.  “Liara…”

For a moment, just a moment, her stony expression flickered with something that might have been repulsion, or regret, but it was gone as soon as it came, before Shepard could be certain it was there at all.  The matriarch’s hands clasped behind her back.  “I will not be moved by sympathy, no matter who you drag into this confrontation.”

_Believe me, I’d rather she wasn’t._ But aloud, Shepard merely said, “Liara’s here of her own volition.  From what I hear, compelling people against their will is more your style.”

She ignored the barb.  “Indeed?  And tell me, sweet Liara, what secrets have you whispered into the commander’s ears about me?”

“What could I say?”  There was an edge of hysteria, of defeat, to Liara’s voice.  “Should I tell her about the trips, the ones where you’d leave for weeks without warning?  How you’ll stop at nothing if you think it gains asari an advantage?  Should I perhaps itemize your strengths and weaknesses, inventory your biotics, explain how to kill you?  Tell me, mother, you who always knows best- what could I say?”

“You were always weak.  You couldn’t even outthink a krogan and handful of machines on your own.”  Benezia’s lips pressed together.  She deliberately turned her gaze back to Shepard, a dismissal as cold as it was cruel, and smiled indulgently.  “So, Commander, Spectre, this little human girl who stands before me wearing the titles and trappings of things so old she can barely understand them, the child who found a single bottled message whilst playing in the sandbox and now wants to stop a war- tell me, what is it that you want?  I’m in a mood to be entertained.”

Shepard refused to rise to the bait.  “I don’t think your puppet master sends his most important asset to fix an accident at the lab.  What does Saren really want with this place?  What was so important that he sent you to rescue it?”

“It would appear the reports are accurate.  You have neither grace nor subtlety,” the matriarch said smoothly.  “I wonder if they spoke equally true of your combat prowess?”

Somewhere in the depths of the lab, a hatch opened.  Shepard felt her stomach clench.  _Shit, she was stalling us._ Adrenaline shot through her body and time seemed to slow as she assessed their surroundings.  They were far too exposed up here. 

Benezia was still talking.  “Fortunately, I have arranged a small test.  Have you faced an asari commando unit before?  Few humans have.”  She shifted her weight, crossing her arms carelessly, as if nothing Shepard did could possibly impress her and it wouldn’t matter even if she were mistaken, and offered a beguiling smile.

Shepard longed to wipe the smug expression off her face.  “You might want to ask your sleeper agent for a detailed report of my skills.”  Then she smiled maniacally.  “Oh wait!  You can’t.”

Benezia snarled and flung out her left hand, glowing blue, but Shepard was already diving behind a steel cart.  It turned out not to matter.  The matriarch swept her arm over her head and slammed her palm into the floor.

Immediately, an enormous shock front of dark energy swept clear the platform, sending equipment, tables, datapads, and people flying.  The cart tumbled end over end and pinned Shepard underneath it.  It was heavy, a few hundred kilos of heavy-gauge metal sheeting and laden drawers, and she couldn’t immediately move it.

A second burst of raw biotic energy tore a hole the size of Shepard’s head in the floor inches from her face.  She could hear her squad shouting as shots began to fill the air.  Most of them were pushed off the platform.  She struggled with the cart, watching Benezia’s feet through a thin gap between it and the floor.

The matriarch advanced on her position.  She could see the hem of her dress brushing the ground.  “Your insolence is a poor mask for your fear.” 

There was another set of feet at the edge of Shepard’s vision, coming up behind Benezia- black hard suit boots, generic navy grunt equipment, the exact suit they’d fitted for Liara when she joined the crew.  Shepard, annoyed beyond all belief by this woman’s theatrics and after that comment feeling rather like she’d slipped sideways into a _Star Wars_ movie, growled from beneath the cart.  “Maybe, but you forgot something.”

Laughter.  “And what is that?”

The boots crept closer.  “Luke kicks Vader’s ass.”

Benezia paused in her step, utterly confused.  “What?”

And then, without warning, she was knocked flat to the ground by the force of Liara’s biotic attack.

Shepard didn’t wait for her to recover.  With one last grunt she shoved the cart up and forward, enough to slide out from under it, and snagged Liara by the arm.  “Come on!”

They stumbled down the stairs, taking them three at a time.  Benezia yelled something unintelligible from the platform.  Shepard herded them towards the sound of gunfire. 

Liara struggled.  “We need to go back.  We have to stop my mother from finishing her plan!“

“No, what we need to do now is regroup.  If her team divides us we’re toast.”

The asari stared back over her shoulder.  “But-“

“First rule of combat situations.”  Shepard hauled her forward.  “Never argue with your C.O.”

They found Williams and Alenko crouched behind a set of lab benches divided by an aisle, trading off taking shots at the asari squad and allowing their weapons to cool.  She drew her rifle and squatted beside to the lieutenant, taking aim even as she spoke.  “Status?”

“Three here.  Two now.”  His pistol barked twice.  “Biotics are no good, their barriers are too solid. I think Wrex landed on the other side of the platform.  Another two commandos ran off that way- probably chasing each other’s tails across the lab.”

Shepard ducked as one of the asari let off a shotgun blast squarely in her direction.  It shattered a glass-fronted cabinet above her head.  Shards rained down on her hair.  Most of it stuck in the strands.  She popped back up over the top of the bench and let off three rounds into the asari’s chest, all deflected.  The woman ran behind a row of storage lockers.   “We left Benezia up by the tank.  She won’t stay out of the fight long.”

Williams leaned out of cover, fired, and slid back just before a ball of dark energy could rip her arm from its socket.  “The last thing we need is a fucking matriarch in this mess.”

Biotic barriers were nasty business.  They had to be worn down, until the amount of energy battering them exceeded what the biotic was capable of staving off, much worse than a shield.  And even then, it was only a matter of time until the creator regained her stamina and put it back up.  There was only a narrow window to put in any shots that counted and with all the cover in the lab, Shepard wasn’t sure they had that kind of time. 

“Geth?” she asked.

Alenko took another shot.  “No sign of them.”

There was a tremendous crash from the other side of the platform, followed by kind of yell only a krogan could produce.  Shepard’s head jerked towards the noise- which was also when she realized Liara was nowhere to be seen.  “Can you hold here?”

His face was strained but honest.  “For now.  Try to hurry.”

She gave him a curt nod and scuttled away from the fight, straightening into a run as she exceeded the asari’s likely range.  The platform was both the quickest route to the other side of the lab and the most likely place to find Liara.  Her feet pounded up the stairs. 

Benezia had assumed a fighter’s stance on the platform, no less elegant or dangerous for it, her face a hard, cold mask.  One hand was extended towards Liara, who was frozen in place under her mother’s biotic sway, a painful posture raised up on her toes as if she was caught preparing a strike.  Her blue eyes darted about, trapped, scared, but she didn’t seem in immediate danger.  Benezia had her free hand to her ear, murmuring into her comm. 

Her merciless gaze swept over Shepard like a fire as she mounted the platform.  Shepard had no idea what to expect; in trying to coddle Liara, she’d never asked after Benezia’s combat capabilities.  That was a mistake, not one she was likely to make again, but that didn’t exactly help her now.  So she simply raised her rifle and held down the trigger.

The rounds ricocheted off Benezia’s barrier.  She dropped her transmission and flung out her arm.  The wave of dark energy caught Shepard around her middle and tossed her savagely against a support column, smacking her head once- her vision flickered- and then, with a second jerk, over the railing.  Shepard landed flat and hard on her back. 

Sometime later, the world faded back in.  It could have been seconds or minutes.  Her ears rang.

_Get up._ Her head spun.  She stared at the ceiling, woozy.  _Get up or you’re dead._

Shepard lurched to a sitting position.  Her hair fell down around her shoulders, and something wet trickled down her neck.  No time to worry about it now. 

Sound returned, fuzzy at first.  Bangs, warbles, and flashes of blue light came from the platform above.  Liara was free.  Apparently, trying to hold a barrier, a stasis field, and fling Shepard around like a rag doll exceeded the limits of Benezia’s concentration.  She stumbled to her feet just as one of the pair of absent asari commandos went sailing past her face.

She shot at her automatically before she even fully registered what was happening.  The woman groaned as the rounds pinned her to the wall, and slumped into stillness.

“Nice one!” Wrex yelled, and threw a filing cabinet at another, unseen assailant.  The right side of his face looked like it got a brush with one of their shotguns, trailing blood from a half dozen grazing wounds.  He was grinning madly. 

Shepard glanced at the platform, and then starting making progress towards Alenko and Williams’ position, from the other direction.  It was clear the only way they’d take Benezia was everyone together.  She just hoped she’d read the matriarch’s intentions towards Liara correctly.  It didn’t seem like she wanted to kill her. 

The two commandos were still alive, fighting conservatively but expertly.  The tactic was effective.  With the advantage of barriers, familiarity with the lab’s layout, and centuries of experience, they’d wear down her squad long before they tired themselves.  They were not, however, expecting Shepard to come at them from the side.  The asari were caught in a ninety-degree crossfire between the commander and her marines. 

Shepard lay down a cover fire as she advanced, forcing the asari to retreat, but there was nowhere to go.  She smiled.  This was going to be over quickly.

And then one of the asari lit up like a blue beacon and streaked forward.

Shepard had no time to ponder what happened; one second the commando was the better part of eight meters away, and the next, she was in Shepard’s face, swinging a biotically-augmented fist.  Shepard ducked under the blow and swept the asari’s legs out from under her.  They both hit the floor heavily.  Her vision went to gray. 

The asari recovered first and scrambled on top of her, managing to circle her neck with her hands.  Shepard was immediately concerned.  The woman knew enough to press on the artery, not the windpipe, and kept her knee planted firmly on her center of mass to make herself difficult to dislodge.  She had seconds at most. 

They fell behind a cabinet, where nobody could see them to help.  Her rifle was too large, no room for a shot, and battering her with it did no good.  Her hand scrabbled at the ground, looking for something, anything, and among the jumble of strewn lab equipment, closed on a hard and slender bit of trash.

Her hand swung up and drove the broken stirring rod straight through the asari’s temple.  Her violet eyes flew wide.  Then her hands went slack and she collapsed on top of Shepard.  The commander rolled her off with a groan.

Her head cleared the top of the cabinet just in time to see the second commando toss Alenko in the air and drive him back to the floor face-down with considerable force.  Shepard ran at her, shooting.  Most of the shots went wide and the rest hit her barrier, but the point was to get her attention.

She took a good long look at Shepard’s face and her colleague on the ground, and spun on her heel and ran. 

Shepard let her go.  Her team desperately needed to regroup.  She ran to Alenko’s location and hauled him to his feet.  He bent double, coughing, as he tried to force air back into his lungs.  A cracked rib or two seemed likely.  “Shepard-“

“Where’s Williams?” she demanded.

He stumbled past her, back towards the lab benches.  Shepard turned.

Williams had collapsed against the cabinetry, ashen faced and clutching at her side, between the chest guard and the leg plating.  Her brown eyes lifted to Shepard’s.  “Sorry, ma’am.  I got sloppy.”

Alenko crouched in front of her and opened an omni-tool diagnostic, administering medi-gel.  He, too, glanced at Shepard.  “One got away.”

“The rest are dead.  Just Benezia now.”  Or so she hoped.  Wrex seemed on a warpath.  “Can you walk?”

The chief groaned.  “I think so.”

Alenko shook his head, examining the diagnostic results.  “She’s down for the count, ma’am.  She can’t fight.”

Williams started to protest, but Shepard overrode her.  “No, but we can’t leave her here, not with a commando still running around.”  Shepard knelt down and held out her hand.  “Come on.  Easy does it.”

“Commander.”  Alenko swallowed.  “You’re, uh, you’re kind of bleeding.  A lot.”

She touched the back of her head.  Her fingertips came away wet and sticky.  It throbbed and oozed, but the room wasn’t spinning anymore.  “It’s not bad.  Just enthusiastic.”

“It’s going to get bad if you let it keep going like that.  You’ve got it all down the back of your suit.”  Stubborn, like always.

Liara was still alone.  Wrex was still across the room.  Shepard squeezed a palmful of medi-gel into her hand and smeared it onto the back of her scalp.  It stung like hell and made a sticky mess of her hair.  “There, done.  Let’s get the hell out of here.”

They got Ash to her feet and started towards the platform.  Halfway there, Shepard heard the sound of a hatch opening and feet- metallic feet- clattering on the lab floor.  “Oh, shit.”

Overhead, there was a whirring noise.  The ceiling mounted turrets were coming to life.  Shepard couldn’t even find it in her to groan.  “Double shit.”

The comm crackled in her ear.  Garrus.  “Shepard?”

“Kind of busy at the mome-“

“Duck.”

The turrets spun towards the inbound geth from all four corners of the lab.  Shepard pulled Alenko and Williams into the shadow of the staircase a half-second before the guns opened fire.  Dust and shrapnel filled the air. 

She settled Ash on the floor, out of the line of fire, and shouted over the noise.  “Stay put.”

“Commander-“

“That’s an order, Chief.”  Shepard risked her comm link, no longer caring if Benezia eavesdropped.  “Wrex, get your ass to the platform, ASAP.”

“On my way.”  He sounded quite pleased with himself.  She hoped that meant both his commandos were dead.  Maybe the last one too, if they were lucky.

She looked at Alenko.  “She’s got some kind of stasis field thing in addition to the telekinetic shit, and some serious biotic firepower.  Get your shots in, keep your back to something solid, and stay the fuck out of her line of sight.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  He drew his pistol and they took the stairs two at a time.

The platform was in chaos.  Benezia stood at the heart of it, her skirts torn and tattered, revolving slowly on the spot as she tracked her daughter's movements.  Sensing opportunity, she swept away an overturned table hiding Liara, and followed it immediately with a shot of raw biotic power.  Liara darted desperately for a support column and the energy ball hit the concrete with enough kick to crack it. 

Before the crack’s report even began to fade, Liara leaned out from behind the column and hurled her own bolt directly at her mother.  It ripped a gash along her arm.  She responded with another stasis field, but missed her target, temporarily freezing a datapad in midair before she dismissed it as useless. 

Shepard started shooting before she reached the top of the stairs.  Most of the shots went wide, but it did get Benezia's attention and provide Liara some relief.  Wrex clamored up the other side, shotgun firmly in hand, and on the lab floor below nothing but bits and pieces remained of the geth.  The turrets spun in place and snicked to a stop, aimed squarely at the asari matriarch.

"It's over, Benezia," Shepard said, as her squad lined up alongside her, weapons drawn. 

The matriarch made as if to attack.  There was a bark of gunfire and suddenly her shoulder was bleeding freely, oozing through her fingers.  She stared at her daughter in shock.

Liara's armor protected her from the worst, but she was sorely battered, plating chipped, webbing torn, and a greenish-purple bruise covered half her face, squeezing shut one eye.  Still, her voice was strong. 

"Until just now, I never believed it.  The reports had to be mistaken.  It had to be someone else.  My mother would never do such a thing."  Liara's pistol beeped softly as it finished its cooling cycle.  "And then you attacked my friends and tried to kill me.  Why, mother?  Why did you help Saren instead of warning the Council?"

"These... people are not your friends,” Benezia sneered.  “They wish to use you, because you're my only child.  Why do you think you're standing here now?  Compassion for your plight?"

"That's where you're wrong, mother.”  Her words rang in the silence of the lab.  “These people you so disdain took me onto their ship and treated me like an equal when they had no reason to trust me.  Shepard did everything in her power to dissuade me coming here because she didn’t want to subject me to this."  Liara wrapped her free hand around that holding the pistol, steadying her aim.  "The only one in this room who ever defined my worth by your parentage is you.”

Then she added, with a note of surprise and wonder, “And, at one time, me."

Shepard glanced between them, feeling rather unnaturally proud, and fixed her stare on Benezia.  “Here’s how it’s going to be.  You can start talking, now, or we can live with the satisfaction of depriving Saren of his favorite lieutenant.  Your choice.”

Benezia staggered against the tank, clutching at her wound, and shut her eyes.  “Saren is unstoppable.  My mind is filled with his light.  Everything is clear.”

“I guess that’s it then.”  Shepard raised her gun a little higher, preparing for the shot.

The matriarch’s bloodied hand rose to her forehead, leaving red streaks across her blue skin.  She shook her head as though to clear it.  “You will- you-“  The proud woman half fell to her knees.  Her fingers brushed the floor.  “You must listen.  Saren still whispers in my mind.  I can fight his compulsions, but the indoctrination is… strong.  We do not have much time.”

Shepard meant to do this respectfully, but this was simply pathetic and it overrode her sense of decorum.  “Holy fuck, lady, I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“No, wait-“  She struggled for a breath.  “I sealed away a part of my mind when I understood what was to be done with me.  I… saved it, against a chance to destroy him.  You are that chance.  Please.”

“Shepard,” Liara said, urgently.  Her unswollen eye was wide.  “Please.  She sounds… she sounds like herself.”

Shepard trusted nothing about this exercise, and disliked allowing a biotic who so recently handed all of them their asses simultaneously time to find her second wind, but whether for Liara or the sake of the information they desperately needed, what she said was, “We met Shiala on Feros.  I know about indoctrination and I know that it can be fought.  Prove it to me.”

Benezia shuddered elaborately.  “It is a terror to be trapped in your own mind.  To beat upon the glass as your hands do the unspeakable.  I was nothing but a tool for him.”

Wrex grunted, impatient.  Shepard quelled him with a glance.  “Enough with the drama.  Why were you here, Benezia?  What did Saren want?”

“He sent me to find the location of the Mu Relay.  Its position was lost thousands of years ago.”  She looked away, wrapped her arms about herself.  “A star went supernova.  Not its host star- I doubt even a relay could survive that fury- but close.  The shockwave propelled the relay out of its system.”

Alenko shifted his weight.  “This relay takes him somewhere he wants to go?”

“I presume so.”  Benezia shook her head.  “He was not so free with his reasons.  The expulsion of the relay was chaotic.  It could not be tracked, though goddess knows I tried to reconstruct its trajectory…  And finding a cold object in space is next to impossible.”

Shepard remained mindful of the time this was taking.  Benezia stalled them once.  It wouldn’t work again.  “Cut to the chase.  What does this have to do with a rachni breeding lab?  And what the hell- a _rachni breeding lab_?  That’s insane even by your colleague’s standards.”

“I understand your confusion.  The answers that we sought lay in the memories of the rachni queen.  She is old enough to remember.”  Benezia caressed the tank, gazing a long moment at the creature within, who had never turned its head from the tableau.  “I used the gifts of my goddess to extract them.”

Shepard was out of patience.  “Give me the coordinates.”

“Of course.”  She reached into a tattered pocket and extracted an OSD.  “But you must hurry.  I transmitted the data to Sovereign as soon as I had it, because I knew your arrival was imminent.  You have to- ahh.”

Benezia clutched her head.  Liara started.  “Wait-“

“His teeth are at my ear.  Fingers on my spine.  You have to- you-“  Benezia was almost sobbing, and seeing such an elegant and arrogant woman reduced to that unnerved Shepard more than anything else about this encounter.  It spoke volumes about Saren’s- or Sovereign’s- power.

Liara stumbled forward, her pistol clanging to the floor.  “Mother- please- don’t leave- fight him-“

Benezia smiled, an expression sad and brave.  “I’m sorry for how things ended between us.  Perhaps I should have… You’ve always made me proud, Liara.”

_Nathaly, I also wanted to say this- I’m so very proud of you.  I don’t think I tell you that enough._  Shepard shoved Hannah’s voice out of her head.  “Liara, stay back.”

Benezia met Shepard’s eyes, stricken.  “You knew what needs to be done.  Perhaps I do not deserve it, but please, do me this service.”

Shepard nodded, and replaced her rifle with a pistol.  Smaller caliber, more precise.  Cleaner.

Liara interposed herself.  “No.  Don’t do this.  We can save her.”

It was unclear to whom she was pleading.  Her mother gently pushed her aside.  “I am sorry, my daughter.  I am not entirely myself.  I never will be again.  Spare me this.”

A sob escaped the archaeologist.  Her voice broke.  “Mother-“

Benezia stepped towards Shepard, half a step away, but her eyes were for Liara.  “Good night, Little Wing.  I will see you again with the dawn.”

Shepard put the muzzle of her pistol up against the matriarch’s chest and pulled the trigger before anyone had time to think about it.

It wasn’t her first kill, at any range.  Nor her hundredth, maybe not even her thousandth depending on how they were counted.  But somehow it was wholly unexpected- the hot, sticky spray, coating her chest, splattering her face, the way the body fell back, twisting, the expression of surprise and fading light in Benezia’s eyes.  She had been a beautiful woman.  Shepard had killed people who deserved it, and people who didn’t, but she rarely had to deal with the families.  Certainly never for weeks at a time, sharing her food and her nightmares, living shoulder-to-shoulder.  Benezia was unique.

Some instinct in her caught Benezia as she fell and laid her gently on the ground.  The matriarch coughed.  “No light?  They always said there would be- ahhh.”

Benezia tensed once, and was gone.

Shepard was aware of Liara sinking to the floor and taking the weight of the body from her.  Everything seemed to be happening through a veil of cotton gauze, though she couldn’t say if it was the magnitude of events or simply the head wound catching up to her.  Alenko put his hand on her shoulder, drawing her back from mother and daughter. 

Her hand tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear.  She swallowed, and holstered the pistol.  Benezia’s blood was sticky on her cheek.

“You did what you had to do,” Alenko was saying, pulling her away another step.  Shepard couldn’t tear her eyes from Liara, whose head was bent low over her mother’s face.  “It’s going to be ok.”

“No,” Shepard said.  “It won’t.”

They stood like that for god knew how long, until Wrex of all people interrupted with his usual lack of tact.  He pointed crudely with his shotgun.  “What are we going to do about that?”

The rachni queen, regal in her tank, stared out at them and wriggled her tentacle feelers.

Time sped back up to its usual rate.  The atmosphere cleared.  Shepard found she could think again.  She took a breath.  “Kaidan, go see to Ash.  I’ll take care of this mess.”

His eyes searched her, checking whether she was ok, a gesture that at once warmed her because she truly wasn’t fine, and irritated her in the same way a wounded dog snaps at anyone who comes near.  But he merely nodded, squeezed her shoulder once, and slipped away.  Liara was crying quietly over her mother.  Shepard stepped around them both and approached the tank.  Surreal was the only word for any of this.

The queen prodded at the glass with a tentacle.  Shepard braced herself against the tank and ducked her head, examining the interior, trying to glean any information regarding Saren’s broader plans.  They couldn’t have known the queen carried the Mu Relay coordinates when they located the egg.  So what was the point of establishing a lab, or a breeding program? 

At the base of the stairs, on the far end of the lab, something stood and began dragging itself along the metal floor.  Ker-thunk.  Ker-thunk.  Ker-thunk.  Soft at first, but growing louder.

Immersed as she was, it took Shepard a minute to pick up on the noise.  Her hand slid to her sidearm.  “What the hell is that?”

Wrex turned towards it.  “Want me to check it out?”

Shepard glanced at Liara, still on her knees bent over Benezia, and then towards the stairs where Alenko and Williams were out of sight.  The team was being split again, purposefully or not.  She didn’t like it.  “Guard the top.  If you see something coming up, give a shout.”

She resumed her inspection of the tank.  The intent, unwavering way the rachni stared at her was starting to get under her skin.

“Shepard,” Wrex said again.  “This is- you need to see this.”

Shepard turned around, exasperated.  “Wrex, just spit it-“

Her eyes widened.  The irritation died on her lips.  “-out.”

One of the dead commandos, the bullet hole in her head clearly visible above her closed eyes, was shambling towards her, tripping over her own feet but making steady progress.  Wrex had his shotgun fixed on her back, and the way she knew he was truly unnerved was that he waited for orders instead of simply shooting her.  The problem was, Shepard wasn’t certain which ones to give.  How do you kill something already dead?

“I am so tired,” she said, thinking of the geth and the husks both, and drawing her gun for good measure, “Of fighting a war against this kind of zombie crap.”

The woman dragged past Shepard and arrayed herself against the tank, no more than a meter from the muzzle of Shepard’s pistol.  Her head lolled on her shoulders until it was oriented in a normal speaking posture, and her eyes flickered open.  The voice that flowed from her lips was like no asari Shepard ever heard- low, echoing, shaky on the ends of the words, and cadenced like someone speaking for the very first time.  “This one.  Serves as our voice.  We cannot sing.  Not in these low spaces.  Your musics are colorless.”

Behind the asari, the queen’s six mandibles flared about her maw. 

Shepard glanced between them, not lowering her gun.  “To whom am I speaking?”

The asari stared forward unseeing.  “We are the mother.  We sing for those left behind.  The children you thought silenced.” 

Even Liara looked up at that.  Wrex couldn’t hold his peace.  “Shoot the damn thing.  That’ll shut her mouth.”

Shepard looked around the lab, half-expecting rachni soldiers to pour from the vents at any moment.  “Did you order your… children to attack the science team?”

The dead woman shook as she talked, jelly in a pan, like her skeleton was little more than a bag of bones.  “No. The children are beyond our songs.  Stolen from us as they were birthed, before we could teach them to sing.  They are lost to silence.”

More footsteps on the stairs.  Shepard whirled.  Williams staggered onto the platform, assisted by Alenko.  He looked exasperated.  “Sorry, ma’am.  I told her what happened and she insisted.”

Williams made it to the railing and leaned against it heavily, pointing.  “What the hell is that?”

“Apparently rachni queens can speak through the dead.”  Shepard shook her head.  “I don’t understand it either.”

The dead asari shambled forward a step.  “What are children without a mother?  End the suffering of our lost ones.  Though it grieves us, they cannot be saved.  They will cause only harm.”

Alenko raised his eyebrows.  “Catch me up?”

Shepard looked over her shoulder.  “Rachni grow up crazy without influence from their queen.  That’s why the ones in the labs are acting so recklessly.”

He shrugged.  “Makes sense.  Lock a baby in a closet for sixteen years and it’s not going to be very sane, either.”

Somehow, the asari’s bizarre intonation became almost sad.  “These needle-men.  They raised our children as beasts of war.  Claws with no songs of their own.  Fear has shattered their minds.”

“Eliminating them won’t be a problem.”  Shepard tried to move back to the subject at hand.  “Saren stole your eggs and Benezia stole the history of the Mu Relay.  Was there anything else?”

“No.”  The asari’s dead eyes twitched in her skull, looking in different directions.  “What will you sing?  Will you release us?  Are we to fade away once more?”

Wrex glanced towards the ceiling.  “Those tanks.  They look like acid.  Strong acid judging by those warning labels.”

Liara followed them with her eyes.  “Their lines lead into the tank.  Shepard, you’re not seriously considering this?”

Shepard, too, stared at the lines, her arms folded, thinking dark and ugly thoughts.  “How did you survive the war?”

“We- I know nothing of the war.  We heard discordance, songs the color of oily shadows… tones from space hushing all voices, forcing singers to resonate with its own sour yellow note.  We were but an egg, hearing Mother cry in our dreams.  The sky now is silent.  We wish only to find a secret place, to teach our children harmony.”

Shepard had been a spectre for three and a half months.  In that time many things had occurred requiring immediate strategic decisions, and less urgent political ones.  But politics was fluid and strategy was only mathematics dressed in colors of blood.  For the first time, she felt the full mantle of the office on her shoulders, here in this trashed lab.

She wanted nuance.  She wanted to be conflicted.  A decision with consequences like this, the final death of an entire race, should require heavy deliberation.  But there were only two thoughts in her head.  _The queen doesn’t know what happened in the Rachni Wars.  What is she going to think when she finds out?  And the reapers are coming.  There is no way, none, the galaxy survives a two front war of that magnitude.  Rachni included._

But those were simply nightmares, dreams from the beacon of Eden Prime patched together with shoddy rationale.  There was no direct evidence.  How sure was she?  How sure could anyone be?  Surer than anything she’d ever felt in her life, but that was a gut thing, emotional, not logical- but it undeniably stemmed from the same instinct that kept her alive through nine kinds of hell over the years.

In her tank, the queen waited, her tentacles waving gently.  Shepard regarded her.

Wrex checked his shotgun.  “Let’s get this over with, Shepard.  These bastards had their chance.  That war was won with krogan blood and we scraped them off our boots long ago.”

Williams slid to the floor with a small groan of pain, helped by Alenko, who brought up another diagnostic.  She batted it away.  Her head rolled towards the tank.  “I’m with Wrex.  Fuck this bug shit.”

Liara looked from one face to another, the pitch of her voice rising.  “We cannot be considering this.  Shepard, this is genocide.  The Council of fourteen hundred years ago went too far.  We can make this right.”

Shepard rubbed her eyes and forced patience.  “I know what this is, Liara.”

“Could leave it to the Council,” Alenko suggested tentatively.  “They’re going to want a long hard look at this place anyway.”

She dropped her hand and went to the terminal.  “No.  This has to be done, and the Council doesn’t have the stomach.”

Liara scrambled to her feet.  “Shepard-“

Her expression was a solid leaden wall.  “You’ve had a hard day, but this isn’t about right and wrong.  Of course this is wrong.  But I can’t risk the galaxy on the goodwill of a species that has no reason to like us, and we can’t fight rachni and reapers at the same time.  We’ll lose, and that’ll be the end of everything, for every race, not just one.”

“You can’t know that-“

“I _do_ know that,” she said sharply.  “This is kind of my field.”

The queen as heard through the dead asari commando was alarmed.  “Are we really so frightening?  You seek our silence because of a shadow of a threat?”

“I’m truly sorry.”  Shepard located the controls for the acid tanks in the terminal interface.  “I’m aware that doesn’t mean anything.”

Her voice was suffused with rage.  “We will not embrace the great silence!”

Her puppet shambled forward and tried to knock Shepard away from the console.  Unfortunately for the queen, the dead lacked stamina.  Shepard threw her to the floor one-handed.  “Restrain that thing.”

“Gladly,” said Wrex, coming forward and planting one giant boot on the commando’s chest.  She struggled like a pinned bug.

Liara made one last attempt.  “Goddess, Shepard, _think_.  This is something you will carry until you die.”

“It can join the collection.”  Shepard flipped the cover off the switch.  “Believe me, Liara, if there is a goddess, she gave up on my soul a long time ago.”

She pressed down.  There was a rushing sound, and clouds of green smoke filled the tank, partially obscuring the queen.  She skittered away from the shower of acid but there was nowhere to run.  Shepard folded her arms and waited without looking away, not even after the queen’s screams of rage turned to screams of agony, allowing the images to burn into her memory.  She didn’t deserve to be spared witness.  The rachni held her gaze to the very last, laced with such hatred and pain that it should have left Shepard a pile of ashes, until her eyes ran down her face like runny eggs and the smoke covered her entirely.

When it was over, some minutes later, nothing but thick black sludge remained.  Sprinklers of water activated within the tank and began to wash it away.  Nobody spoke.

Shepard let out a breath, thinking she should feel _something_ , satisfaction, regret, guilt- but all she felt was tired, and not even soul-tired so much as the standard weariness of someone who’d been awake and fighting terrain first and monsters later for over twenty two hours.  She ran a hand over her hair, catching her fingers in the sticky medi-gel.  Her head ached horribly.  “Alright.  We need to clear out the last of the rachni soldiers- maybe the lab has a protocol- and get Williams patched up before we head back down the mountain.”

“I’m fine, ma’am,” Williams objected from the floor.

She ignored her.  “How’s the weather?  Can we order a shuttle evac?”

Alenko tapped at his omni-tool.  “Negative, ma’am.  If anything the storm’s still getting worse.”

“Copy that.”  She moved on to the next problem.  “Liara?”

The asari still wouldn’t look at her.  Shepard tried to ignore that, too.  “Liara, I need to know what to do with your mother.”

Her voice was quiet and seemed to come from very far away.  She curled in on herself, arms wrapped around her waist, shoulders slumped, making her body as small a thing as possible.  “I can’t just leave her here.”

“Understood.  Wrex?”

He rolled his eyes, stubborn.  “She’s an enemy.  A defeated one, Saren’s toy, not worthy of songs.  We should leave her to rot.”

Shepard didn’t want to hear about songs right now, not after what she’d just done to the rachni queen.  “And when we kill your mother, you can dictate how we handle it.  Pick her up and move out.”

She and Alenko got Ash propped up between them.  The bleeding had stopped, but she was still in a bad way.  Wrex retrieved the body, though not without an excess of snorting and muttered comments.  Liara trailed behind lost to her own thoughts.

The team wound back through the tunnels of Rift Station, this time avoiding the maintenance shaft, and almost made it down the stairs to the med bay before Shepard, entirely without warning, stumbled and nearly dropped their gunnery chief.

“Commander!” Alenko struggled to keep Ash from tumbling down the stairs.

“I’m…”  Shepard’s head was reeling.  For a half-second there, she completely blacked out.  “I think I’ll just go in and sit down for a moment.”

Dr. Cohen was clearly surprised to see them.  His eyes widened as he took in the sticky refuse splayed across Shepard and her armor.  “Spectre, what on earth-“

She brushed by him and perched on the edge of one of the lab tables, speaking past the nausea that was now playing gleeful counterpart to her headache.  “Cohen, you have a VI operating theater installed?”

“Yes, but-“

“Prep it.  I’ve got a marine who requires its services.”  She nodded to Alenko.  “Get her settled.”

He ma’am’d her and helped Ash through the hatch.  Cohen made another stab at resuming control of his med bay.  “Commander Shepard, I must insist-“

Wrex came in hauling Benezia’s body.  “Where the hell do I set this thing down?”

“We’ve been putting all the bodies in the auxiliary station.”  Cohen pointed.  “But-“

The krogan ambled in the indicated direction, closely followed by Liara, who kept her head down and her expression hidden.  Shepard put her finger to her ear and activated her comm.  “Tali, Garrus, it’s over.  Come on home.  Bring Olar if you can find him.”

“Thank goodness,” said Tali, relieved.  “Is Chief Williams-“

“I think she’ll be fine.  We’re going to plug the leaks before we roll.  Shepard out.”  She looked up at Cohen.  “I’m not asking for miracles.  You can suture?”

He drew himself up, a visible effort to calm himself.  “Yes.  I’m sadly out of practice, however.”

“The VI can put her under and find damaged tissue.  All you need to do is stitch, glue, and medi-gel the crap out of anything that’s bleeding, enough to keep her stable when we drive to the port.  We’ll have our own expert physician attend to the permanent repairs when we’re back aboard ship.”  She gave him a firm nod that made her vision fade momentarily at the edges.  “I have every confidence in you.  Also, I may need a head scan.”

Cohen nodded.  “I’ll just… go see to your friend, then.  Excuse me.”

He hurried off.  Garrus and Tali entered the med bay, along with the stout volus.  Olar peered up at her.  “What do you want?”

Shepard got straight to business.  “Unless you want an antimatter warhead shot up your ass, we need to knock out the remaining rachni.  Soon.  Other than sinking the lab, which sounds like it takes forever without guaranteeing the rachni will die, are there any protocols that will terminate out-of-control experiments?”

His ventilator hissed and clunked as he considered.  “Yes.  A neutron purge should accomplish what you need.”  Another breath, in and out, accompanied by the heavy whine of machinery.  “You will need to search for the access codes to activate the protocol.  I don’t have them.  And it can only be initiated from within the hot labs.  The terminal is right outside the elevator, across a foyer.”

“Understood.”  Her eyes drifted to Wrex as he returned.  “Garrus, Wrex, go take care of this problem.  Evacuating the lab is out of the question with the available vehicles, so if this doesn’t work, a lot more people are going to die.  Where’s Liara?”

Wrex jerked his hand towards the auxiliary bay.  “With her mom.  It’s giving me the creeps.”

“You have to get to that hot lab anyway.”  She looked at both of them in turn.  “Good luck.”

“We’ll get it done,” Garrus promised, and they herded Han Olar with them as they left.

Shepard closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, massaging her temple.  She wasn’t quite brave enough yet to assess the damage at the back.  Tali touched her arm.  “Shepard?  Are you alright?”

“Nasty bump on the head.”  A half-smile, forced.  “That’s all.”

“We were watching on the security feeds while we tried to hack the defenses.  It looked brutal in there.”

“We accomplished our objective and everyone made it out.  Might not sound like much, but that’s good day.”  Shepard glanced back towards the hatch, trying to believe it.  Liara was only just visible at the edges of the window with her back to them.  “You might want to go see our archaeologist.  She could use a friend.”

“You should go see her, too.”

She remembered the shock on Benezia’s face as she pulled the trigger, and the heartache in Liara’s voice as she begged her to spare the queen.  “I don’t think she wants to see me right now.” 

“Alright.”  Tali took a steadying breath.  “I’m glad Ash is going to be ok.”

“Me too.”  She watched Tali move into the next room and put her arm around Liara.  This was why Shepard’s friends numbered so few; she took so much and gave back so little.  Without Liara, they’d be nowhere close to understanding reapers or the coming war.  And today she’d not only killed her mother but made her an accomplice to genocide.  Shepard wouldn’t blame her in the slightest if the next time they were on the Citadel, she left and never came back.

The hatch to the OR split open, ejecting Cohen and Alenko.  The doctor stripped off his gloves and reached for a fresh pair.  “Chief Williams is undergoing the anesthetic now.  We need to give it time to suffuse her system and stabilize.  Meanwhile, let’s have a look at that head injury of yours.”

He set up the scanner equipment while Alenko leaned against the end of the exam table.  “You just can’t seem to stop getting hit over the head.”

“Very funny.”

“No, seriously, I used to wonder why you were so hard-headed, but now I can see it’s just a survival mechanism.”

“Keep talking, L.T.  I can make sure the _Normandy_ never restocks the frozen lasagna you seem to like so much.”

Cohen shifted her minutely and advised her to hold still.  She stared straight ahead as he took the data.

The scanner beeped.  Shepard read the output on the terminal with faint disbelief.  “Cranial fracture?”

“Small one, yes.”  Cohen opened a drawer and withdrew a large pair of surgical shears.  “We’re not equipped to do much about that, but you’ve also got a number of small fragments of glass imbedded in your scalp which must be excised.”

_The asari’s shot raining glass from a shattered cabinet down on her head.  Benezia throwing her.  Waking up on the floor seeing stars._ The combination must have crushed them into her skin.  It explained the bleeding.  Shepard stifled a groan.  “Great.”

“Hold still,” Cohen said, and raised the shears.  “We need to clear the site of the wound to get a better look.”

Shepard fixed him with the kind of stare that could freeze plasma.  “You’d best not be putting those things anywhere near my hair.”

He paled.  Alenko intervened.  “Go deal with Ash, doc.  Worry about this later.”

Cohen gave Shepard a last nervous glance and hastened to the OR.  Alenko went to the medical supply cart flanking the exam table and opened a drawer, withdrawing a pair of long-handled tweezers, a sterile metal pan, and a tube of surgical glue.  “Lean forward.”

Shepard eyed the supplies with a fair amount of skepticism.  “Do you have any medical training at all?”

“First responder field training and a truckload of experience disassembling tiny electronic components.  I’ll manage.”  His mouth turned up at the corner.

Shepard felt suddenly quite self-conscious.  It wasn’t doubt- pulling glass out of a scalp couldn’t possibly be complicated- but her reaction to the doctor’s scissors had been instinctual, immediate, and more revealing than she liked.  It was only hair.  She bit her lip.

“Look,” Alenko said, shrugging.  “You can let me give it a stab, or you can wait for the microbiologist to come back and spend another ten years growing your hair out again.  Your choice.”

Vulnerability and vanity warred.  Vanity won.  She heaved a grudging sigh.  “Fine.”

She bent forward as requested, eyes riveted to the floor and her face burning, so hot even her skin would show a flush.  She was glad he couldn’t see it.  His fingers moved through the heavy strands of her thick red hair, searching for shards, a gentle touch but inevitably pulling a bit here and there.    “Holy shit, Shepard, this is a mess.”

The medi-gel did a wonderful job of gobbing it all together; it was worse than bubble gum, though easier to dissolve.  And she could only imagine the strange tic-tac-toe inscribed by the shards.  She swallowed and attempted a weak joke.  “Yeah, I’m kind of a magnet for catastrophe.”

There came a soft clink as Alenko picked up the tweezers, a sharp tug that left her wincing, a rattle as the glass hit the pan, and then the wet, numbing chill of the glue as he smeared it over the cut.  His hands resumed their search, slowly roaming over her scalp.  “How’d you end up with a head full of glass anyway?”

It was strangely intimate.  His fingers were starting to feel nice, tangled against her head, as the glue numbed the pain.  It was a long time since someone knotted their fingers in her hair- a thought she firmly shunted back into the trap it crawled out of.  “One of the asari shot out a glass cabinet front right over me, and then Benezia slammed me into the ground head-first.”

“Ouch.”  He started tugging at an especially stubborn bit of debris.  “I told you wrecking your shield generator to power those servers was a bad idea.”

She forced herself to hold still despite the discomfort and snorted.  “Alright.  You’ve had several hours now to think about it.  What’s your better plan?”

“Not wrecking your shield generator to power those servers.”

“So, no better ideas, then.  Check.  Ow!”  A trickle of something hot ran down her neck.  She clamped her hand to the back of her head without thinking and twisted around.  “Are you performing a biopsy now, too?”

He presented the object clutched in the tweezer’s grasp.  “When hair buns attack?”

Shepard took the bloody hairpin between her thumb and forefinger, in utter disbelief.  “I’ve been wearing it like that in combat for almost a decade.  This is a first.”

“It cut you pretty good.  Move your hand.”  He wiped away the blood and used more of the glue.

Shepard sat through it silently, so embarrassed she could die, wishing she’d let the doctor do what he wanted- wishing that she’d grabbed the shears and done it herself.  She was a naval officer, a marine, a spectre- where the hell did balking at a medically mandated haircut fit into that?  This was a waste of both their time.  There were still rachni running wild through the facility and other loose ends to tie up.  Her friend just lost her mother and she was sitting here worried about losing her hair.  It was pathetic.

But it was the only part of her that was even a little pretty.  And the fact that mattered was pathetic, too.

Alenko paused in his work.  “Sorry, I’m trying not to hurt, but some of these pieces are really wedged in there.”

Shepard was confused.  “It’s not hurting.  Stings a little.”

“Your shoulders are really tense, so I thought-“

“Oh.  Sorry.”  Shepard forcibly relaxed.  “I can’t help thinking I should be working, not sitting here doing… this.”

“Your skull is cracked.  You aren’t going anywhere.” 

Another bit of glass tinkled in the pan.  She stammered a bit.  “We should go sit with Ash-“

“The OR’s a sterile environment.  We’ll see her when she’s out.  And we’re right here if something happens.”  He tugged at a particularly large piece.

Shepard bit her lip all the way through extraction, wondering how Wrex and Garrus were coming along and almost wishing they’d radio for backup, anything to focus attention away from this room. 

Alenko was almost amused at her rigidity.  “What’s the problem?”

“This is… this is very undignified,” she said at last, flustered.

“Stop being so defensive,” he chided, prodding at her head with the tweezers.  “Perfect people are boring, anyway.  The undignified parts, the human parts- that’s the good stuff.”

Her cheeks flushed a deeper red, hidden by the hanks of hair draped to either side.  “You of all people lecturing me on being defensive.”

“Hey, I know what I’m talking about, right?”

“Too damn well,” Shepard muttered.  She couldn’t help laughing a little.  “God, we’re like the poster children for repression.”

“Well, don’t tell DMHS.  They love a good charity case.”  Another tug, another piece added to the pan.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”  Her head chose that moment to throb with pain, a lance that reached down into her stomach and churned the acid.  She rubbed it with a small groan.  “I’m not on death’s door or anything, but between you and me, L.T., I am feeling extremely unwell right now.”

“Head injury, moderate blood loss, sleep deprivation, traumatic mission, and I think the last time we ate anything was a couple of candy bars back in the Mako.  I wonder why.”  He shook his head.  “I’m not feeling great, either.  That commando sure knocked the wind out of me, and….  This one’s going to stick with me a long time.  I don’t think I’ve really started processing it yet.  Hell of a way to spell mission accomplished.”

She let him finish removing the next piece of glass before asking the question.  “No chain-of-command bullshit- do you think it was the right call?”

“Benezia asked you to do it.  It was the only way she could be free.  I’m sorry Liara had to be there- you were right about that too.  Just awful.”  He sucked in a breath.  “As for the queen… I don’t know.  That’s a once in a lifetime situation.  I don’t know how you deal with it.  Usually, I’m glad I can pass the buck up the chain on the hard calls.  You don’t have many superiors left to give you orders anymore.”

“Nice way to evade the question,” she observed, sardonic.

“What you said about a two-front war made sense.  And the rachni… they were already dead, in all the important ways.  No society left.  Not enough diversity to ever truly repopulate.  What kind of survival is that?”  He came around her side, just enough to look at her.  “I trust you, Shepard.  So do a lot of people who know better than me.”

Shepard started to reply, but without warning the floor shook hard, violent enough to knock the pan full of glass over.  “What the hell?”

He backed away from the table, hands held up.  “I think we got most of it.  Go.”

“Check on Ash.”  That kind of jarring could be catastrophic during surgery.  “I’m going to find out what happened.”

She hurried up the stairs, ignoring the way her vision was going fuzzy at the edges and her stomach threatened mutiny with every step.  Her wild appearance garnered several startled glances from the Binary Helix survivors as she dragged herself to the security barricade.  “Ventralis, I need a status update.”

He turned and started to speak, but when he caught sight of her, he could only gape.  Her mouth settled into a hard line.  “Yeah, I look like shit, but you’re not asking me to fucking homecoming, you’re giving me an emergency report on our security systems.  Start talking.”

That snapped him out of it.  “Seemed like it came from the hot labs two floors down, ma’am.  Our scanners aren’t reporting any breaches.  I can’t say I appreciate how your men overpowered central security.”

“It was necessary.  I didn’t have time to argue the point with you.”  Shepard wanted nothing more than to sit down and close her eyes for a spell, but she was unwilling to let it show.

Ventralis frowned.  “What the hell happened down there, anyway?”

“Benezia’s dead,” Shepard said succinctly.  “Ten-century-old asari matriarchs make formidable opponents.  Do not recommend.”

“Lady Benezia is…”  He swore.  “Spectre, a few hours ago I’d have you detained for that.”

“You could try.”  Shepard didn’t disguise her evaluation of his odds of success.  “But you won’t, because that turian guard her sleeper agent killed was one of yours, and you’re not stupid so you’ve probably worked out that when she left her orders, she hoped you’d slow us down.”

He shook his head, not disagreeing.  “I always figured if I met a spectre it’d be like in the movies, you know?”

“Brawn, body counts, and lots of good one-liners?  Somebody who just gets in the way of the people doing the real work?” she asked, eyebrows raised.  She sat down on a crate and leaned into the wall.

“Something like that.”  He gave her a sidelong glance.  “I didn’t think they’d be crazy amazon women who manage smart, capable, and right all at the same time.  I’m sorry.”

Shepard rolled her head tiredly.  Her neck was getting in on the action now, too, a deep stabbing ache of its own, but her reply retained a certain cocky airiness.  “Don’t let it get you down.  For the moment in spectre-land I’m one of a kind.”

She didn’t know why she was trying so hard.  Because years down the road, when Ventralis was telling his cronies about That Time He Met a Spectre, he’d say she took down an asari matriarch like squashing a spider, no big deal?  There was an unspoken rule to make it look easy, no matter what, because weakness was abhorrent and if people knew how hard it actually was to keep the galaxy safe it would scare them to death- one more thing it was her duty to spare them- but joking like this made her feel twelve years old.

The elevator opened.  A rather ruffled-looking Garrus and Wrex exited the carriage.  Wrex wore the biggest shit-eating grin Shepard ever saw in her life.  “We got them.  All of them.”

She took in the gore plastered over his hardsuit with a jaded eye.  “What, you head-butted them all to death?”

“Not quite,” Garrus said.  “We got the codes for the neutron purge- long story- but once we started the timer it was like we dropped a cluster-bomb of rachni pheromones.  I don’t know how they knew, but they swarmed the room, coming out of every vent and crevice.”

“We had to fight our way out.”  Wrex radiated contentment.  “Only three minutes, and there had to be hundreds of them between us and the exit.  I never thought in all my years I’d get a chance to fight the old enemy, like my ancestors before me.  This is a good day to be krogan.”

Shepard was beyond skeptical of this story, particularly the numbers cited, but decided against stealing Wrex’s glory.  The day was long enough.  “Ash is in surgery.  Once she’s stable, we hit the road.  Try to find something to eat and get some rest, if you can.”

Garrus looked her up and down.  “I could say the same to you.”

Nothing sounded better, but she sighed.  “Wouldn’t that be nice.”

She was positive Chakwas would have apoplexy if she did much of anything before allowing the doctor to check her over, including eat or sleep.  Given her low reserves, however, Shepard might not have a choice.  They returned to the barracks.

From there, events started to move quickly.  Williams sailed through her surgery with flying colors, though Cohen looked like he’d aged three years by the end of it.  Shepard tried to eat a microwave cup of soup from the scientists’ stores, promptly threw it up, and gave up in favor of an IV bag of glucose followed by one of saline.  Cohen tried to stop her and then tried to help her, but she growled him away.  Shepard was certain she had more practice at finding a vein than him and she had enough new bruises already.  That lone bath in the Noveria hotel seemed eons ago.

Scans confirmed the neutron purge had done its job.  The hot labs would be unusable until a clean-up team could be summoned, but Port Hanshan agreed to call off the antimatter strike.  The interim administrator seemed more relieved than disappointed.  Shepard had some faint hope his tenure would be less punctuated by personal greed.  For her part, she couldn’t put this planet behind her fast enough.  With luck nothing would ever force her to return.

They got Benezia into a body bag- a facility as remote as Peak 15 had to be prepared for anything- and trudged back to the Makos.  Ash complained bitterly the whole way, stuck in a wheelchair, shutting up only when Shepard threatened to exchange it for a body board.  Garrus joked that they could prop her up on the roof to scare off wildlife and lingering geth.  Wrex added that they’d probably run just to get away from the endless talking, which caused Williams to throw a roll of gauze at his head.  Tali cautioned her to take it easy, while Alenko hung back with Liara, so she wouldn’t have to sit by herself.

And that was the problem, Shepard realized, as they began the journey back to port.  This wasn’t a crew anymore, if it ever had been.  The seven of them were something else entirely.  She was the commander, sure, but only in the most cursory way imaginable.  They watched each other’s backs, squabbled like family, and took the piss out of each other on a regular basis- but somehow it worked.  Contrary to every navy tenet about professionalism, it worked. 

The two Mako teams were forced to reorganize.  Neither Shepard nor Williams were in any condition to drive.  Liara was out as well, for other reasons, and Mako controls weren’t designed for operation by someone of Wrex’s size.  Tali confessed that while she could pilot a variety of small ships, she’d never driven a land vehicle in her life.  That left Garrus and Alenko. 

As Shepard settled in the back with Liara, Alenko fired up the engine.  He caught her expression in the reflection of the windshield.  “Relax.  I’m not going to drive us off a cliff.”

“There are two types of people in this world.  Those who can handle my car and those I don’t want driving on the same planet as my car.”

“I’ve sat in your car,” he protested.

“Yeah, and you stiffened up and leaned the wrong way every time we took a hard turn.”  Shepard rolled her eyes; a mistake, as her stomach instantly threatened rebellion once more.  “You are good at many things, but this?  You have no instinct for this.  And don’t give me some bullshit about being a station kid because so am I and I am crazy good.”

“That bump on your head is making you say the silliest things.”  He rolled the Mako out of the garage.

“We are all going to die,” she pronounced, stoically. 

Tali turned around in the navigator’s seat.  “Don’t worry, Shepard.  I know where the override switch is.”

“No faith, any of you,” Alenko groused.

The jests died as they got out on the ice and Alenko and Tali both were consumed in keeping them on the road.  They followed Garrus.  The snow had not let up, but it was mid-morning now, and the sunlight was beginning to brighten the air to a lighter shade of gray.

Shepard tried to put the long drop into the valley below from her mind.  She and the asari were wedged in beside the gun sights.  Liara curled into a corner, her head bumping lightly against the bulkhead with every jounce, expressionless.  Benezia’s body lay across from them, on the other side of the turret, sealed in its black bag.

The bruise on Liara’s face had grown only more spectacular as hours passed since the fight.  After a while, Shepard reached over, gingerly.  “Has anyone looked at that?”

Liara flinched away.  “A warp got too close to me.  The distortion drew my blood towards it.  All it requires for treatment are the attentions of time.”

Shepard didn’t say anything, but continued to explore the bruise, gently brushing her fingers over it.  Liara consented to the evaluation with icy dignity, not moving even when Shepard pried open her swollen eye.  “Well, it’s not pretty, but you seem to be right.  No lasting harm.”

She moved away.  Liara kept still.  Shepard sighed.  “That was no way to live, what Saren was doing to your mother.  Or his ship, or whatever.  If you hate me for it, I under-“

Liara did look at her then.  “I don’t hate you.  I hate her.”  Her face swung towards the bag.  “She’s the one who did this.  She knew she was walking into a deadly situation with Saren and she didn’t think what it would do to me if she disappeared.  She never did, and I never saw it.  I thought it was about me.  Goddess, what a fool I am.”

“You’re not a fool.”  Shepard draped her hands over her knees as the Mako jounced along and looked at Liara.  “You’re a daughter who wants her mother to be the same person as when you were five years old, and the damnedest thing about it is realizing she never changed- you did.”

Liara covered her eyes with her hand and bowed her head.  Shepard kept talking even though it seemed like a bad idea.  She didn’t know what else to do.  Silence worried her.  “My mother was such a hero to me, you know, larger than life.  She’d take me aboard her ship when they were in port and everyone would salute her, like she was really something, and the skipper used to sit me in the CIC and let me play with the galaxy map.  And I got older and realized that for her that was just another way of showing off.  Perfect officer, perfect family.”

“My mother kept me out of her professional life.  It took me forever to realize how important she was.”  Liara made a little sound that might have been halfway between a laugh and a sob.  “I was at school, telling a friend about a bonding ceremony we attended.  The food was so beautiful.  I’d smuggled away a cake to show her.”  She shook her head.  “It was for the then-Councilor, the one before Tevos.  It wasn’t until I noticed everyone in the classroom staring at me that I realized most families didn’t get that kind of invitation.”

Shepard reached over and took her hand.  “She protected you.  In her last lucid moments, her heart was with you.  They’re not perfect mothers, either of them, but they did their best.”

And then Liara, slow as time, tired as dust, simply lay down on the floor of the Mako, her head in Shepard’s lap.  Shepard, startled and touched, wasn’t sure how to react.  Liara had no hair to stroke, so she settled for resting her hand against her head crenellations.  Liara didn’t cry or even sigh; just lay there, quietly. 

So it was that they made their way down the mountain back to the _Normandy_ , with Liara cradled gently against Shepard’s armor, still sticky with Benezia’s blood.


	39. The Derelict

_01 hours post-Noveria_

Dr. Karin Chakwas prodded the anterior of Commander Shepard’s skull in the med bay of the _SSV Normandy_ , while Shepard stared straight ahead and concentrated on not drifting off.  God, but she was so tired that if Saren himself appeared and requested docking, she’d tell him to come back later. 

The doctor clucked.  “You do get yourself into the worst of scrapes.”

Shepard flinched as she poked a particularly sore spot.  The room spun lazily.  “Shouldn’t you be attending to Chief Williams?”

“Ashley is between procedures.”  Her voice held a note of approval.  “Your microbiologist was no surgeon, but he exceeded himself with her care.  You, on the other hand…”

“Can’t exactly put a head in a cast, doc.”

“Regretfully, no.”  She straightened and entered her observations at the side terminal.  “I plan to inject a compound that will hold the fracture together and encourage rapid bone growth.  Your brain activity registers no abnormalities aside from the concussion.  With a proper recovery period, there should be no lingering damage.  Though with the sheer number of head injuries you’ve experienced over your career, you should be aware that the long term prognosis-“

“Define recovery period,” Shepard interrupted.  The warnings were beyond familiar.  Truth be told, she never figured she’d live long enough to worry about potential memory, attention, or motor function impairments in her retirement.  It wasn’t a death wish; just sober reality that if she kept doing this, eventually the odds she flouted would catch up and maul her ass. 

Chakwas crossed her arms.  “I strongly recommend three weeks, but I’ll perform a scan after two and see what we have.”

“Three weeks!”

“I’m already ignoring standard medical practice to shorten it from months to mere weeks.”  Chakwas was unmoved.  “A head injury of this sort is no laughing matter.  You’re lucky you don’t need surgery.”

“I don’t have three weeks to waste on this crap.  Saren is still out there.  The conduit is still out there.  I need to be at work.”

The doctor’s eyes narrowed.  “’This crap’ is your brain function, Commander.  I am the ranking medical officer aboard this ship and I will go over your head if I must.  Now lie back.  I’ll administer a light sedative before beginning the injections.”

Shepard heaved a sigh and sank down face-first on the exam table.  Despite her outrage, ten seconds after her head hit the pillow and long before Chakwas began her treatment, she was fast asleep.

/\/\/\/\/\

_16 hours post-Noveria_

The holograph of the asari councilor glanced down at the preliminary report.  “Commander, I’m not certain I’m reading this right.”

Shepard stood at ease, her hands clasped behind her, and waited.  Her head was pounding.  A lovely massive bruise now decorated her fracture, tender enough that she’d gathered her hair into a loose tail at her neck in defiance of navy regs to avoid pulling at her scalp.  Still, she was clean-cut and sober as she faced the Council’s impending wrath.

“I know what this is,” growled Councilor Sparatus, throwing his datapad onto a table out of the view of the transmitter.  “This is an admission of genocide.”

The salarian councilor, Valern, attempted to diffuse the tension.  “You found rachni in Binary Helix’s labs, brought there by Saren and Matriarch Benezia.  This is a… difficult conclusion to believe, Commander.”

Shepard answered without any inflection whatsoever.  “Feel free to investigate it yourself.  There should be some biological material left for analyzing against your records of the Rachni Wars.”

“Do you take pleasure in this, Shepard?” Sparatus snarled. 

“No.”  She was damned if she’d call him sir.

Tevos took a more diplomatic tact.  “Perhaps something can be recovered from the waste.  Cloning, or additional eggs in cryogenic storage-”

“Without a queen, it is pointless.”  Valern’s dark eyes blinked, inner and outer lids.  “A colony cannot be sustained without her guidance.”

Sparatus was still spitting angry.  “And according to this report, rachni cannot even be properly reared without a queen.  This is outrageous.  Spectres are given broad authority, but this was not a decision for a single reckless soldier.  We should have been informed.”

“Agreed.”  Tevos swung her gaze towards the him.  “This is a disgrace.  A single queen, or even a single colony, particularly one carefully monitored and controlled, could pose no conceivable threat to galactic security.”

Valern shook his head sadly.  “Rachni represented one of the most ancient cultures in recorded history.  It was a shame these dual conflicts ended as they did, so long ago, and so recently.”

“Well?”  Sparatus barked, turning his beady eyes on Shepard.  “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

She shrugged.  “What’s the point?  I had my reasons.  I could explain, but they won’t make any difference to you.”

Tevos gestured flatly.  “Please, enlighten us.”

Shepard’s gaze was direct and unflinching.  “I know what the beacon was trying to tell me.  The reapers are coming.  Stopping Saren only delays the conflict.  These machines have swept through the galaxy before, they destroyed the Protheans, and they’re coming for us now.”  Her tone turned disdainful.  “The rachni queen wasn’t going to allow you to lock her in a gilded cage, control her children or their destiny.  A two-front war-“

“Enough,” said Sparatus.  “This is madness.”  His eyes cut to Valern.  “I told you her psych profile was unstable.  These hallucinations are proof.”

Shepard bore that with quiet dignity, a bored expression on her face.  There was no winning against that sort of accusation. 

Tevos held up her hand.  “Councilors, please.  Shepard, we have your full report.  Please let us know if there are any further developments.”

Shepard took a step forward.  “Regarding the Mu Relay-“

Valern pursed his lips.  “We will place the matter under consideration.  This session is concluded.”

The holographs died.  Shepard felt she should have been upset, annoyed at the least, but her head hurt too much to care, and the six hours of sleep before she dragged herself to her terminal to draft the report barely touched her exhaustion.  The Council had proven to be nothing but an impediment throughout this mission.  Their impotent outrage wasn’t surprising.  Indeed, it was a small miracle the galaxy hadn’t collapsed millennia ago.  Maybe the Councils of centuries past were made of sterner stuff.

Shepard headed down a deck into med bay. 

Most of her team was still banged up to one degree or another- lacerations, contusions, a handful of fractured bones.  If Shepard never found herself outnumbered against a team of canny and experienced biotic commandos again, it would be too soon.  Ash was still unhappily confined to Chakwas’ table, though that didn’t stop her from downing the proffered drugs like water.  The antibiotics and painkillers were doing a number on her presence of mind.

“Skipper,” she said as Shepard entered, slurring a bit and tossing off a sloppy salute.    “Happy Armistice Day!”

“What?” Shepard glanced at Chakwas.

“The anniversary of the treaty that concluded hostilities in the First Contact War,” the doctor explained, not without a hint of exasperation.  “She’s been asking me to share a drink with her all day.”

Shepard looked down at the patient bed.  “Alcohol’s not a good idea at the moment, Chief.  Even out of tradition.”

“It’s not a _tradition_ , it’s an _obligation_ ,” she explained, with the slow enunciation of the highly inebriated. 

“Obligation, huh?”  Shepard crossed her arms.  Out of Ash’s line of sight, Chakwas rolled her eyes.

Ashley lay back.  “Williams family ritual.”

Chakwas shut a drawer and pursed her lips.  “I seem to have misplaced my datapad.  Could you sit with our patient a few minutes while I locate it?”

“No problem.”  Shepard settled into a chair next to her.  Chakwas hurried from the lab.  “My family’s navy too, almost all of them, but I can’t say we’ve ever celebrated the armistice.”

“Navy family.  Hah.”  Her tone more cynical than was usual. “My father was in the navy, my grandfather, my great-grandmother, going all the way back to UNAS, before the Systems Alliance.  Good at it, too.  Not that it’s mattered since the war.  Takes a special kind of stupid to dive into a career where you’re family’s blacklisted, buuuuut…”  Williams gestured at the air, nearly knocking over her IV.  “Here I am.”

“Here you are?”

“C’mon, ma’am, you don’t have to play dumb about it.”  Her smile was sloppy, a little mean and a little conspiratorial.

“Ash, I’ve got no earthly idea what you’re talking about.”  Actually, Shepard figured she was talking to the morphine more than Chief Williams.

That caught Williams off-guard.  “Really?  I always thought there was a note in my personnel file, or something…”

Shepard was bemused.  “There’s nothing in your file but a short list of crap postings and a few letters of recommendation from your training officers.”

“You ever wonder why those recommendations never got me anywhere?”

“Figured it was your mouth.”  She crossed her arms and grinned.  “Why, you got some better reason?”

“This isn’t funny,” she said, but the attempt at gravity was lost as the medication made her eyes drift at random.  “My grandfather was General Williams.  Commander of the garrison at Shanxi in ‘57.”

Shepard raised her eyebrows.  “Your father was navy, so you joined the navy.  Your grandfather surrendered to aliens, so you hate aliens.  Way to think outside the box.”

“I don’t hate aliens,” Williams began to protest, but then she sighed and returned to the topic.  “After the war, they dragged him back to Earth in chains, but dropped the charges and stuck him behind a desk.  He took retirement two years later and broke his back doing construction the rest of his life.  And now, the whole navy holds what he did against my family.”

Shepard simply sat back with her arms folded and studied Ash, a small smile on her face. 

Williams lolled on the bed.  “What the hell, ma’am?”

“This was your big secret?” Shepard asked.

Her brow furrowed.  Shepard blew out a breath and shook her head.  “Ash, your grandfather never had a trial because he didn’t do anything wrong.  See, unlike you, I’ve actually been to strategy school.  We studied Shanxi.  The turians drove his forces out of the cities, and dropped rocks from space on whole city blocks any time a squad tried to sneak back for supplies-“

“Who are you talking to?”  She was actually offended.  “I know all this.  Not to mention his men were starving and he couldn’t contact high command for orders-“

Shepard held up her hand. “All I’m saying is sometimes, in war, you lose a battle.  That’s just how it goes.  If we locked up every officer without a perfect scorecard our brig would hold more people than our ships.”

“Don’t tell me my family hasn’t paid for this.  My father worked hard his entire career, right up until the day it killed him, taking any shitty fleet posting he could to get into space, and never rose above Serviceman Third Class.  I’ve been stuck in garrisons on backwater ag colonies despite graduating training at the head of my cadre.”

“I didn’t say everyone in the navy is as rational as me.”  Shepard was unperturbed.  “But I am surprised that you thought of all people I would hold that against you.”

Ash made an exasperated noise and closed her eyes, settling back on the pillow.  “C’mon.  You ride my ass like nobody’s business.”

“I ride your ass because I want to push you to your full potential, not because your grandfather gave up a garrison.  Hell, I didn’t even know until ten minutes ago.”

She opened one eye, as if doubting her sincerity.  Shepard relaxed her expression, draping her arms over the chair’s rests.  “I bet your dad was proud when you made Chief, though.”

Williams broke into a sleepy smile.  “First thing he did was salute.”

Shepard laughed.  “You come from a big family?”

“Big enough.  Three sisters, and my mom.  She was a planetary geologist but gave up her career to raise us.  Kind of necessary the way we moved around.  Mom and dad both wanted to see space, loved it.”  Williams folded her hands over her stomach.  “What about you?”

“Only child.  My mom’s got two siblings and my dad’s got five, though, so lots of cousins.  Not that we saw much of them, except when we wound up at the same posting.  Everyone’s military.  My dad used to joke there was a Shepard on every base.”  Shepard rested her head against the back of the chair.  “I used to pretend I had a sister, when I was young enough for that kind of thing.  It got lonely.”

“I can’t imagine growing up without my sisters.  We moved so often, there was never any time to get to know other kids.”  A rare fondness touched her voice through the drug-induced haze.  “There’s four of us- I’m the oldest, then Abby, Lynne, and Sarah.  Sarah’s graduating high school this year.  Can’t believe I’m not going to be there.”

“Deployment’s rough sometimes.  My parents missed a lot of holidays, birthdays, you name it.”

“I helped raise her, you know?  Our mom was always so anxious between dad never being home and minding four girls all by herself.  She needed every bit of help she could get.”

“Where’s your mom now?”

“She took dad’s pension and moved back to Earth, to be near her parents.  I visit every chance I get.”  Her head turned towards the firmly shut hatch to Liara’s lab.  “Losing dad was rough enough.  I can’t imagine being left all alone in the world.  It’s got to be killing her.”

Shepard, too, glanced towards the lab.  Liara made herself scarce since leaving Noveria.  They’d been so fixated on Benezia, it never occurred to her to ask about her father.  Nothing in Liara’s reaction indicated she had another parent from whom to seek comfort.  “We’re stopping at an Alliance base to drop off the body.  Hackett’s arranged to have it examined by experts, to see if we can figure out this indoctrination process.  Letting go so… clinically, no memorial or ceremonies... it doesn’t seem like her.”

Chakwas returned to the lab bearing the forgotten datapad, a touch flustered.  “Now, where were we?”

Shepard stood.  “You wanted to take another scan?”

“Ah, yes.  If you’ll step over here…”

/\/\/\/\/\

_28 hours post-Noveria_

Shepard slumped into a seat in the comm room and watched Anderson’s debriefing with half-lidded eyes, grateful she was not required to present visually, only orally.  He parsed her report.  “It says here, ‘Commander Shepard then executed the matriarch at close range with a single pistol shot to the chest.’”

“Yes, sir,” she confirmed, monotonous.  She always wrote her reports in third person, to provide maximum clarity regarding who did what, and when.  Previous C.O.s had informed her this was unusual; one asked her if it was a method of dissociating from events.  When she answered no, he took that as a sign of denial and sent her for a DMHS eval anyway.  Sometimes, Shepard thought she must have the best documented mental health of any marine in the fleet.

Anderson scrolled down the report.  “And then after a brief discussion, you ‘released a quantity of strong, concentrated acid into the containment tank and monitored the reaction until dissolution was complete’.  You killed the rachni queen with an acid attack?”

“Binary Helix installed the tanks as a precautionary measure.  Utilizing them to neutralize the queen presented the lowest risk to my squad.”  The queen’s rage and pain at her fate was still fresh in her mind.  She carefully controlled the inflection in her voice.  “I understand that it was not humane.”

“Nor legal for the execution of sentient beings under Council law.”

“Then it’s a good thing we were in the Traverse, isn’t it.”

“As well as Alliance law,” Anderson appended sharply.  Then he softened tone, mollifying.  “I understand you’ve formed a friendship with the asari scientist.  Killing her mother, however necessary, was difficult.  Facing the problem of the rachni immediately following that moment-“

Shepard glanced up at the comm.  “I knew what I was doing, sir.  I didn’t lack for clarity of mind.”

“Dr. Chakwas’ medical report indicated you suffered a moderate head injury.”

“So I have a hell of a headache.”  Her frustration showed.  “I don’t see how that’s material to this debriefing.”

Anderson was likewise exasperated.  “I’m trying to help you here, Shepard.  Spectres have broad authority, but between the acid and the genocide, this is war crimes territory.  Given that there was no formal cessation of hostilities with the rachni-“

“No formal cessation of hostilities?  Are you kidding me?”  It was too absurd to even laugh.  “The Council condoned the original genocide.  That’s why there wasn’t any treaty or peace accord.”

“A different Council.”  He sighed.  “A different time.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.  And I find it interesting that Saren massacres a few colonies and gets a generous hearing, whereas I kill one bug and suddenly the Council’s tossing out loaded words like ‘war crimes’?”  Shepard was angry now.  “With all due respect, fuck that, sir.  It’s been like herding cats to get them to even call this a war, much less treat it like one.  They have no right to call my actions anything.”

“Don’t lecture me on unfairness.  I’ve been dealing with these people almost longer than you’ve been alive.”

Shepard rubbed her nose and made no reply.  After a while, Anderson moved onto the next topic, echoing her earlier thoughts.  “We received the matriarch’s body.  It’s being moved to a research facility as we speak.  Please convey our gratitude to Dr. T’Soni.  Entrusting us with her mother’s remains couldn’t have been an easy decision.”

“Honestly, Captain, she was astonished to be given a choice.”  Benezia’s indoctrination was a previously unknown phenomenon.  The Alliance hoped to study her brain and discern the mechanism. 

Anderson was sympathetic.  “I imagine not much has felt in her control these last few months.”

Shepard recalled Liara in those early days especially, a quiet face at mess, retreating to her lab, earnest in her work.  “You can say that twice.  But she’s been a valuable asset to the team despite her family problems, and with no training for this kind of mission.  I’m glad we have her.”

“High praise from you.”  His tone grew a shade lighter.  “Asari can be… quite compelling.  Fascinating, in fact.”

Her head was pounding and it took her a moment to realize that he was teasing her.  “What?  No.  It’s not… no.”

Anderson laughed, a rich and vibrant rumble.  “Of course, Commander.”

The memory of standing in the snow with Kaidan flashed across her inner eye and she thought, dryly, that Anderson would be considerably less amused by the truth.  She rubbed at her aching bruise before she could think better of it and winced.  It didn’t help that Chakwas’ bone treatment was beginning to itch like old scabs as it did its work.  “About the Mu Relay data, sir…”

“Udina’s doing what he can.  Getting the Council to lift its restrictions on operating unknown relays… It’s hard in the best of times, but after this rachni mess?  Damn near impossible.”  The rachni were the reason for the restriction, the same that got a humanity ignorant of galactic law into so much trouble with the turians during First Contact.  Traversing an unexplored relay led to contact between the Council races and the rachni nearly two millennia past. 

“Saren won’t have his hands tied.  He wanted these coordinates.  The Conduit could be on the other side.”

“Noted, but there’s an additional wrinkle.  The Mu Relay is deep in Terminus space.  Even Saren will be forced to tread lightly.”

Shepard could see the logic.  “He has no way of knowing that Benezia gave us the data.  If it does lead to the Conduit, he’ll want to tie up any loose ends left here first.”

“And there are plenty of those.”  Anderson ticked them off.  “These krogan you keep finding, the obsession with Prothean relics, the bizarre research projects- first Feros, now Noveria.”

“The Cerberus connection,” she slipped in smoothly, shameless.

“Nathaly.”  Anderson expelled a sigh.

“Fine, fine.  But when this comes around to bite us don’t say I never warned you.”  Shepard slouched down further in her seat.  “Half my team’s still down on medical, so I’m taking the ship out to some of the systems with geth sightings.  Do a little classic recon and see what we drum up.”

“Good.  Send a report with what you find- the fleets are stretched thin covering the front.  It would be nice to see some more targeted patrols.  Anderson out.”

/\/\/\/\/\

_40 hours post-Noveria_

They were between systems, deep in interstellar space, on their way to Gemini Sigma.  Shepard had slept all a body could sleep, fleshed out the details on her Noveria report, caught up on the duty roster, and made the rounds on her ship until she drove her crew crazy.  Scanning planets- Shepard couldn’t imagine anything duller.  It left her antsy with little to do, and unable to relax.  She threw on her workout clothes and ran the awkward loop around _Normandy’s_ three decks until the headache defeated her.  In the end, she was left with little else but to catch up on some chores.

She gathered an armful of laundry and headed down to Deck 3.

The laundry room aboard the _Normandy_ was little more than a bolt hole down a ladder, long and narrow, shoved up against the launch ramp for the Mako and barely the span of Shepard’s arm across.  One side held a narrow shelf set just below the slots of the automatic washer where they deposited their dirty clothes.  Opposite that were cubbies set into the wall where jumbles of clean clothes were spat out by the machine in the same order they were washed.  The equipment, however, was not discerning about different kinds of clothes and worked best in small batches.  Shepard had more than one shirt torn to shreds by the heavy buckles and zippers of her utilities.  That was where the shelf came in.

She dumped her clothes across its surface and began to sort them into appropriate piles.  It was a strange line to draw, but while as a ranking officer she learned to be comfortable with her subordinates making her meals and parsing her transmissions, scutwork to free up her valuable time, certain tasks like laundry or cleaning her cabin she reserved for her personal attention.  Living on a military ship didn’t come with a high standard of privacy.  She balked at rifling through her things, even just to clean them.

The dirty t-shirt came over her head and joined the pile, quickly followed by her soiled socks.  No one aboard was formal enough to trudge all the way back to their locker for something as simple as exchanging a shirt on laundry day.  She was just reaching behind her for a clean set when there was a clatter from the hatch.

Alenko came down the ladder in his own world, not noticing her at the far end of the room, and dropped his clothes on the bench before pulling off his own shirt to add to the pile.  Shepard tried to act nonchalant, not certain what to say, not able to drag her eyes off him for more than a half-second.  She pretended to sort.

He stuffed the shirt into the machine, his utility khakis riding low on his hips.  His body was fit and lean, broader and a bit shorter than hers, long, smooth, hard lines of muscle beneath his pale skin from years of working a demanding job.  Her headache was utterly forgotten.  She caught herself wondering how he felt up close, and was momentarily so distracted that she dropped half her pile on the floor.

He caught the fumble out of the corner of his eye and started a bit, staring.  “Hi.”

“Hi.”  She felt her skin heat, her blood pound in the veins beneath it, breath harder in her throat, and all he was doing was looking at her.  His eyes brushed her up and down, and left a tingle on her skin. 

Shepard recovered her presence of mind enough to kneel and begin picking up the scattered clothing. 

“Need any help?” he asked.  He was still watching her, scrambling on the floor in her navy-issue spandex bra and sweat pants, hair pulled up in a messy pile and hardly a sight for sore eyes.   

Shepard took a rough breath.  She straightened and duplicated his glance, a quick flick of her eyes over him, excited and nervous both.  “You’re being quite helpful already.”

Alenko flushed.  He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue.  “You missed a sock.”

He bent and picked it up off the ground, holding it out to her.  She drifted a step closer to take it.  Her fingertips brushed his hand, and he held onto the bit of clothing when she tried to tug it away.  Their eyes locked just as the hatch above slid open.

They sprang apart so quickly Shepard was surprised there was no bang of air rushing to fill the void, each abruptly focused intently on their piles of dirty clothes.  Ensign Draven came down the ladder whistling, not noticing anything amiss, and plopped her own jumble on the counter between them to begin sorting. 

“Man, I am glad to be out of that corporate pit,” Draven announced as she shoved a bundle into the laundry’s hopper.  “I heard things got rough for the ground team, but it was a blessing for engineering, powered down in a berth for a few days.  We did a full check out and spot repair.”

“Good use of the time,” Shepard said on autopilot, trying for nonchalant.  Trying not to smolder at Draven for interrupting.

She pulled the almost-forgotten clean shirt over her head and hoped her continued flush wasn’t obvious, feeling clumsy as a teenager.  It was easy to guess what had her so self-conscious; she wasn’t merely attracted to him, she liked him.  And being his C.O. was fully sufficient to make that thirty kinds of awkward without throwing in the fact that he was a close friend and she didn’t want to screw that up, either.  It was _complicated._ She hated complicated.

Shepard shoveled her clothing into the machine as quickly as she could, no longer caring if it was sorted correctly, and made to leave.  Accessing the hatch required squeezing by Alenko.  With the space so narrow, contact was inevitable, but she was fairly certain it wasn’t her imagination when he pressed back against her a brief second as she slid by.  It left her slightly giddy and she was glad nobody could see her face as she climbed out.

/\/\/\/\/\

_51 hours post-Noveria_

Shepard and Joker slumped in couches on the bridge, throwing peas at the ladar pings displayed on the haptic array.  The missiles arced through the screen and bounced off the console.

“Direct hit,” Joker boasted.  “That’s gotta be at least ten points.”

“It was the system star,” Shepard protested.  “It’s the biggest thing on the scan.  If Parag was only worth five, there’s no way that shot’s worth ten.”

“Two words, Commander: Dead.  Center.  You barely nicked Parag.”

“Proportionally this pea is the size of a moon.  Nicking could do some serious damage.”

“If you want to directly contravene the part of galactic law that forbids asteroid strikes, sure.”

Shepard shrugged.  “It’s not a colony world.  Who cares?”

He plucked another pea from the cooling dinner tray on his lap and threw it at her.  She batted it off course.  It splatted against her hand.  Joker snickered.

She licked it off with a grimace.  “How much longer do we have to sit out here and run fucking scans for geth?”

“Assuming you want to do more than sit on the ship and listen to someone else run through a mission?  Two weeks, five days.”

She groaned and curled her face into her hands.

The ladar chimed softly.  She peeked through her fingers with hope in her eyes.  “Please tell me it’s something interesting.”

“Dunno.”  He flicked his fingers at the instruments, bringing up new readings.  “It’s something alright.”

Bakari’s voice came over the comm.  “Ma’am, we’re picking up a distress beacon, about 170 AU out, independent orbit but not far from the first planet.”

“Alliance?” she asked, unable to completely suppress the excitement in her voice despite the gravity of the situation.

“No, ma’am.  Commercial.”   Bakari paused as he read out the data from the beacon.  “The _MSV Worthington_.  According to the civilian monitor system, it’s been missing for six weeks.”

Shepard hauled herself out of the depths of the copilot couch.  “Send them a hail.  See if they need assistance.”

“Aye aye, Commander.”

She looked at Joker.  “Get the coordinates for this thing and set a course.”

“Roger that.”  He addressed his instruments as she made her way to the CIC.

Pressly put a datapad in her hands as soon as she came in range.  “We pulled the ship specs.  She’s a registered freighter, licensed to operate in the Traverse.  Kowloon class.”

“Registered to whom?”  Shepard scrolled through the information.

“A trading company out of Shanxi, dealing in both goods and passengers.”

Bakari looked up from his comm.  “No response to our hail, ma’am.  The distress call is automated.  Could be a derelict.”

Her eyes cut to the serviceman.  “Life support?”

“Fully operational.  So is gravity.  The propulsion system appears online but it’s not activated- they’re adrift.”  He cleared his throat.  “All the lights are on but nobody’s home.”

She returned her attention to the civilian record displayed on the datapad.   “They were bound for Hawking Eta.  That’s a lot of relay jumps from Shanxi.”

Pressly frowned.  “That’s just this side of the Terminus Systems.”

“We’ll know soon enough what they were about.”  Shepard set the datapad aside.  “I’ve ordered Joker to take us in.”

“Very good, ma’am,” Pressly said.  “Who’s leading the boarding?”

She snorted.  “Who do you think?”

“Dr. Chakwas implied that-“

“It’s a derelict.”  She waved a hand.  “Minimal risk.  The doc never said I couldn’t walk around.”

“All the same, ma’am…”

Shepard flashed him a smile as she made for the stairs.  “Don’t worry so much.”

/\/\/\/\/\

_55 hours post-Noveria_

In the end, only three people volunteered to board the abandoned _MSV Worthington_.  Derelict freighters didn’t inspire mass enthusiasm.  There was Shepard, bouncing on her toes, like a kid in the backseat of a long station wagon ride just starting to smell the beach.  There was Liara, reaching for something, anything, to distract her from the thoughts chasing around her head in circles.  And then there was Alenko, who felt neither of them should be left alone right now.

He rubbed his side, wincing a bit, as they waited for the airlock.  Modern vacuum-certified hardsuits worked on the principle of mechanical counter-pressure- using the elasticity of the suit to compress the body and provide the necessary pressurization for proper bodily function, rather than air.  It produced a less than pleasant sensation as it squeezed against his cracked rib, but it wasn’t the first time.  He could handle it.

Behind the helmet’s mask, all that was visible of Shepard was a narrow strip of her face, displaying her usual focus and resolve, if accompanied by a touch of bravado.  Looking at her now, he could tell she still wasn’t feeling her best.  By the time the Mako caravan arrived in Port Hanshan, Shepard was pretty out of it, though she put up a good front.  There was a tiredness in her eyes that belied her excitement and he’d caught her massaging the base of her skull more than once as they suited up.  Chakwas had muttered something derisive about intolerable boredom, but Alenko thought it was more that Shepard had no idea how to slow down once she got her teeth into anything.  Being forced to twiddle her thumbs while the Mu Relay data aged, waiting for Council approval and waiting to heal, made her crazy.

The _Normandy’s_ replacement docking tube sealed flawlessly to the _Worthington’s_ hull and established a hard lock.  The decontamination protocol executed, and their electronic requests to board went unanswered.  The ship made no reaction to _Normandy’s_ proximity.  Liara checked the latest scans.  “No life signs present.”

Shepard nodded towards the hatch.  “Lieutenant, take us in.”

Alenko knelt over the control panel and began deciphering the access controls.  It was a merchant vessel, so its security was somewhere between standard civilian craft and mil-spec.  As impatient as Shepard was with regard to official channels, he felt like he’d gotten altogether too much practice lately breaking into electronic systems. 

It was undeniably fun.  Creative.  The panel beeped twice and the external hatch slid open.  “We’re in.  No alarms.”

“Good.”  Shepard stepped into the airlock.  They waited a few minutes for pressure to equalize, and then the inner hatch broke into segments, admitting them to the first module of the ship.

Most commercial freighters were built to be fully customizable.  This one possessed both cargo and passenger compartments hanging off the ship’s spine, not all that different from the downed freighter on Feros.  It was lit solely by harsh blue emergency lighting that left much of the module in deep shadow. 

“It’s cold,” he said, shivering as they removed their breather helmets and stowed them away.  Their breath fogged the air.   “The ship’s life support is operating at minimal capacity.  Why?”

“To conserve power?” Shepard hazarded.

Liara pursed her lips.  “The ship is adrift.  In the absence other instructions, the VI would configure critical systems to operate as long as possible.”

A terminal was built into the bulkhead beside the hatch.  Alenko executed a few queries and frowned.  “The VI isn’t reporting any mechanical failures.  The ship’s in perfect health.”

Shepard took stock of the cargo.  “No evidence of ransacking.  We can rule out piracy.”

Alenko looked around with growing unease.  It wasn’t his first derelict, but nothing about this situation sat right.  “I don’t get it.  Where’s the crew?”

“Perhaps some manner of disease?” Liara suggested.

Shepard shook her head.  “No.  The ship’s autopilot would have continued on to their destination.”

Alenko thought about what he’d do, if he were the only one left on a ship full of the dead, succumbing to a fatal, unknown illness.  “They could have disabled the autopilot to prevent the spread, if they were sure there wasn’t any hope.  But why send up a distress beacon?”

“Alright.”  Shepard reached the end of a thought.  It was obvious in how she straightened and set her shoulders, the expression of determination that settled on her face.  He liked that about her; while he could debate with himself until he was tied in knots, once she made a decision, it was done.  Shepard didn’t deal in second-guessing or regret when it came to business.  “First, we power up the ship.  That’ll give us access to all of the module bays and with a little luck, the skipper’s logs, too.”

“On a modular ship like this, all the controls will be on the bridge,” Alenko said with certainty.  Every other part of the ship could be removed and reconfigured.  Only the engines, the main causeway, and the bridge were constant.

They made their way into the dark of the ship.  Water condensed from the air and rolled down the walls, and nearest the vents formed furry sheets of frost.  It was damn near silent.  Even for a ship with no running engines, on minimal power, it was the kind of quiet that kept Tali up at nights.  Alenko never understood why until now.  There was still no sign of the crew- not an object out of place. 

Liara noticed it too.  “I admit I am not familiar with most sorts of human vessels, but it is not my experience that they are so… tidy.”

“You must be talking about the commander’s quarters,” Alenko joked.  The state of Shepard’s cabin was something of a running gag among the crew.  She wouldn’t let anyone touch it.

Shepard ignored the barb and aimed her flashlight at a holographic door access pad.  “It’s almost like someone cleaned up before shutting everything down.  Look, no smudges.  People always touch the door by accident.”

Alenko’s light, however, fell on a different curiosity.  His good humor faded.  He squatted beside the seam where the bulkhead met the floor, and ran his finger along it.  As a natural optimist and a career marine both, it wasn’t surprising to see his worst suspicions confirmed, though it never ceased to be disappointing.  “Our mystery janitor missed a spot.  There’s blood here.”

Indeed, there was a dusting of crimson flakes decorating the fingertip of his glove.  Liara was confused.  “I don’t understand.  An injured person doesn’t simply vanish.”

Shepard’s hand slid to her sidearm.  She exchanged a glance with Alenko, her blue eyes meeting his for a split second.  He loved her eyes.  Her body might be relaxed, but her eyes were intensely expressive and gave away everything.  It was probably why Shepard wouldn’t look at anyone directly when she was upset.  Her concern was written plain, but aloud she said, “We make for the bridge.  Anything stops us, we shoot first.”

The dire instruction proved unnecessary.  They didn’t encounter so much as a stowaway mouse as they approached the ship’s controls.  Inside, they found an idle terminal and two empty couches, reserved for the pilot and co-pilot.  A long-cold cup of coffee sat beside it.  Cream congealed into a souring mess floated on its surface.  He thought that was odd, given the thorough scrubbing of the causeway.

The mystery could wait.  Alenko carefully set the cup aside and addressed the terminal.  It gave him direct access to the ship’s systems- life support, propulsion, environmental, all of it.  The interface was dated, clunky, and the VI was cheap as hell even when it was new.  It could barely monitor automated systems without supervision.  Somebody programmed the ship to go into shutdown.  Why?

Shepard and Liara were speaking quietly aft of the bridge.  Liara was uneasy; she was uneasy with everything since Noveria.  She kept to her lab, like she had shortly after Therum, though Chakwas reported the cot she kept in a corner wasn’t seeing much use.  When she did emerge it was to force down a bare few forkfuls of food over the half hour mess while insisting to all concerned inquirers that she was perfectly well, and please don’t ask again.  No wonder she wanted to get off the ship for a few hours. 

Alenko couldn’t even imagine.  His family was small, just his parents and his uncle’s family, but close-knit.  Last month, his cousin fell off his boat and for maybe five seconds there was some question of whether he’d resurface, and there were easily twenty emails making the rounds by the day’s end.  Alenko was selective regarding anecdotes from his own work.  There was no need to worry them.  That was getting harder the more notorious the _Normandy_ became, at least not without outright lying, which he refused to do. 

He finally located the correct program.  A deep base note thrummed through the ship, and a half-second later the lights came online.  The bridge flickered into life as a constellation of instruments shook off their sleep and blinked alerts.

That got Shepard’s attention.  She broke off her conversation with Liara and crowded the couch, leaning over and bracing her arm against the headrest to get a look at the terminal screen.  “Do we have the skipper’s logs yet?”

“Working on it.”  His hands dashed over the keys.  In the cramped quarters, her face as she bent down was close enough to his to feel the heat rising off her cheek.  It would take time for the ship’s temperature to stabilize.  For now, he tried to ignore the nearness of her warmth and the fact that it was making his head buzz.  She’d looked so good in the laundry.  Energized, but relaxed, like she always did after she managed to squeeze in a run, the strong, elegant lines of her body made only moreso by recent exertion, the brief sensation of her pressed against him as she slid past.  He sort of wished it’d been this cold back there…

“Try the next directory down?” Shepard prompted.

Alenko realized he’d been slack at the controls for the last twenty seconds, and abruptly straightened in the couch and navigated to the indicated files.  Neatly numbered logs filled the screen.

“Pull the last seven entries,” she instructed.  “Let’s see what the hell went wrong here.”

They started to read.  He spotted something odd immediately.  “Commander, the final entry is logged in the Horsehead Nebula.  That’s two relay stations from here.”

“And on the way to the ship’s destination in Hawking Eta, which this system definitely is not.”  Shepard keyed the log to the forefront of the screen.  They scrolled past a fluff of carefully tracked schedules and supply updates until they reached a much juicier section:

_The incident with the two passengers continues to deteriorate.  Jacob is showing no signs of brain activity since the aneurism.  There's nothing more we can do for him.  What are the odds?  Anywhere but in transit, he might have had a chance, but our med bay just isn’t state of the art._

_Being kept alive in a condition like this is a horrible fate, and we don’t have the room to maintain him like that all the way out to the colony, so we're going to disconnect the life support. Dr. Smith is worried about Julia's reaction.  She can't seem to let Jacob go, poor girl.  I don’t know about this place they were headed, but all they wanted was a fresh start, like every other young couple out here.  The stress is making her implant flare up, causing intense migraines.  She’s been very resistant to the reality that Jacob is gone.  It'll probably be easier for everyone if we don't tell her until after we take him off the machines.  Give her a chance to grieve with a proper space burial, and drop her off at her new life._

Liara wandered over, anxious, her arms wound about her middle against the chill of the ship.  She read the entry with a furrowed brow.  “There was a medical emergency, and this man, Jacob, died.”

Shepard sat back on her heels, much to Alenko’s disappointment, and crossed her arms.  “Sounds like his girlfriend took it hard.”

“Wouldn’t anyone?” Alenko asked.  “She was a biotic, too.  A shock like that can really throw an implant out of calibration.”  


“I don’t understand.”  Shepard frowned.  “She didn’t experience any head trauma to disturb it.”

Liara grimaced.  “A biotic uses their thought and their will to direct dark energy.  An implant is thus somewhat sensitive to changes in state of mind.”

“It’s best to cultivate a calm mind and a positive outlook,” Alenko agreed.

“Very Zen,” Shepard said with a hint of sarcasm. 

“You should try it.”  His mouth quirked.  “It doesn’t only work on implants.”

She sidestepped the jab.  “This still doesn’t tell us what happened.  We need to visit that med bay.”

Alenko started to shut the files, and frowned.  “There’s something else.  The VI logged a security breach, with the same date as the final entry from the skipper.  The hacker used it to register an itinerary change with the autopilot, and accessed a lot of identification protocols.”

Her eyebrows rose.  “Sounds like a hijacking.  Anyone without those identification codes would be stopped when they attempted to enter the relay queue.”

“That makes no sense,” said Liara.  “There’s nothing in this system to interest a pirate.  Everything of value is on the ship itself.”

Shepard shook her head.  “Let’s keep searching.  Something will turn up.”

Alenko stood.  “The med bay’s in Module E.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected to find there, but it wasn’t a young man strapped to a ventilator and staring at the ceiling as though comatose.  A sheet was drawn neatly up to his chest and his hands were folded over his stomach.  A subtle slick of condensation decorated his forehead, the metal fixtures of the bed, and the tubes crawling out of his mouth.  The room was silent save for the mechanical hiss of air.

Shepard checked her pistol and turned towards the hatch.  Alenko blinked.  “Did you hear something?”

“No.”  She peered out into the hall.  “There was only one person desperate to keep Jacob on life support.  Enough to hijack the ship?”

“Damn it.”  He drew his weapon as well. 

“If Julia is alive, she knows we’re here,” Liara pointed out, glancing at the ceiling.  “And she has a method of eluding a life scanner.”

Shepard glanced at Alenko.  “Is the hull void pressurized on this type of ship?”

Most ships were double-walled, leaving a gap between the inner and outer hulls that held cabling, insulation, and other necessities for keeping delicate organic cargo safe in the harsh vacuum of space.  He shrugged.  “No clue.”

They moved out into the causeway.  Liara followed.  She had a keen sense of observation trained by decades of delicate archaeological work, and every bit of it was focused on the walls and ceiling.  “These access panels aren’t sealed.  It is likely a person could survive in the interstitial space.”

“What’s this hatch?” Shepard asked.

Alenko tried to recall the layout from the computer system.  “Crew mess, I think.”

Shepard tagged it open.  The lights came up as they stepped into the module, and stopped dead. 

At last, Shepard said, “Crew mess.  You can say that again.”

Liara put her hand to her mouth.  Alenko took in the scene clinically.  It wasn’t especially gruesome, just the occasional smear of blood here or there where a tossed body hit a hard surface.  The bodies themselves were gone- disposed, he figured, out the airlock.  What was truly amazing about the room was absolutely nothing was in its proper place.  Tables were overturned, chairs scattered- one dangled from a pipe running along the ceiling- and food, dishes, flatware, playing cards, cleaning supplies, and other refuse decorated the floor like confetti.  The food was the worst.  There was no avoiding the pervasive stench of rot. 

Shepard prodded the debris with her boot.  “She cleaned up every other area of the ship, but left this.”

“Maybe she couldn’t come back,” he speculated, moving deeper into the room, inspecting the chaos.  “She didn’t want to do this, but in her eyes, they were about to kill her boyfriend.  That doesn’t leave many options.”

“Gets rid of the bodies to keep the ship habitable, and eliminates the evidence from the parts of the ship she can’t avoid?”  Shepard was dubious at best.

Liara folded her hands, a quiet gesture.  “Perhaps she wanted to pretend it never happened.  Perhaps she dealt with the bodies and then lost her stomach for the task.  We’re not dealing with a sound mind, Shepard.  Her reasons may not be entirely logical.”

The part that worried Alenko so much about what happened on Jump Zero, even fifteen years later, was that he still had no explanation for what happened when Vyrnnus snapped Rahna’s humerus.  It wasn’t a minor fracture.  Vyrnnus nearly severed her arm.  Alenko heard the sound she made, saw the bone poking through the skin, and his brain went someplace else.  He’d been terrified, furious- and fully desperate enough to do something like this.  He hadn’t even realized the force of his attack until Vyrnnus was dead.  After years of training, even at seventeen, he knew how to regulate it.  Something in him _chose_ that.  And he hadn’t been in control when it happened, not even a little.

He still had no idea why he told Shepard about it.  Alenko never told anyone that story.  It wasn’t about an old wound or an old girlfriend.  It was a lifetime of fear- that he’d hurt someone else, that he couldn’t trust himself and therefore could not be trusted by others.  People were wary of biotics.  Alenko always felt, deep down, that it was deserved.  As though if he failed to maintain a death grip on his abilities a scene like this was what awaited.

Aloud, he said, “If she overheard they planned to shut down the life support, in that state of mind, it might not have been a conscious decision at all.”

Behind them, the hatch slid open.  They spun on the spot with weapons raised.

A red-haired girl stepped into the mess, younger than Alenko expected, not even twenty, and she had a hand wreathed in blue extended towards them.  The other clutched a civilian sidearm, likely the captain’s.  Her eyes were narrowed and bloodshot in her dirty face.  “You couldn’t think I would just let you leave.”

Shepard simply waited.  Not, Alenko noticed, all that uncomfortably.  Like she’d wait forever, and Shepard wasn’t noted for her patience.

The girl laughed into the silence, and it was an ugly sound.  “I got rid of them to protect Jacob, and it was a lot harder than getting rid of you.”

“Killed them, you mean,” Shepard corrected lightly.  She didn’t seem concerned about the threat.

Julia’s face twisted.  “They would have killed Jacob.  I defended him.”

Liara attempted to step sideways, out of her line of sight.  Julia whirled.  “Don’t move!”

Alenko took a step as well, so that he was standing exactly half way between Shepard and Liara, and lowered his weapon slightly.  “You need to calm down.  How does hiding out in the middle of nowhere and killing anyone who finds you help Jacob?”

“They didn’t even try.”  There was a remembered panic, laced with grief, in how she spat the words.  “He got me out of that place.  He saved me.  And they were going to put him out the airlock like a- like a-“

Her voice broke.  Shepard moved closer with careful deliberation, trying not to spook her.  “What place, Julia?”

She licked her lips.  “Grissom Academy.  After… after we got our implants, I was assigned to Dr. Wayne’s group.  Most of us who spiked high on the tests ended up with her as our mentor.  She was always watching us.  Giving us things that weren’t really medicine, tests no one else used.  And sometimes kids went off-station for an ‘exchange program’ and never came back.”

“You left?”

Julia took a shaky breath.  “Jacob was- he was in a different group.  When I found the datapad, with the list of names- he said we needed to go.  And we did.  We worked for a year and a half under the table on some shady mining world to earn our passage out here.  You can’t begin to imagine what that was like.”

Shepard risked another step.  “I do know what it’s like, Julia.   I’ve been stationed in the Traverse for ten years.  You know how many of those mines I’ve raided to get kids like you out?  They must have loved you- tiny, bright, motivated, used to being told what to do.  They use kids for a reason.  But every time the navy shuts down one shit hole three more crop up.”

“Don’t give me that Alliance crap.  Dr. Wayne was Alliance too.”  She raised her hand higher- Alenko was a bit impressed she could hold a readied attack for so long- and glanced at each of them in turn. 

“Julia-“ Shepard began, warningly.

“Stop using my name!” Julia launched her attack without awaiting a reply.  However, she wasn’t accustomed to fighting opponents wearing shield generators.  Her singularity hung uselessly in the air, completely nullified. 

She made an angry sound and raised her gun.  Alenko felt the bullet ping off his shields.

Shepard fired at her leg.  After expending so much energy holding her biotic attack, Julia’s barrier was weak.  Still, the shot should have only disabled her.  But Julia was already ducking down.  And instead of burying itself in the muscle of her thigh, the bullet lodged in her pelvis.

Julia collapsed.  Shepard swore, and skidded across the crap littering the floor, going to her knees beside her.  “Shit, she’s a mess.”

Liara was there in a flash.  She reached for the wound.  Julia flinched and screamed.  Shepard held her down.  “It shouldn’t be bleeding like that.”

Julia’s pants were soaked.  Liara looked around for something to staunch it, and then gave up and used her hands, eliciting another moan. 

Alenko grabbed a dish rag and hurried over.  It wasn’t exactly clean, but infection was the least of her problems now.  “Here.”

Liara took it gratefully.  Alenko glanced at Julia’s face, and his heart sank.  “God, she’s pale.”

Shepard scooted towards her head.  “Julia.”

Her eyelids fluttered.  Alenko joined Shepard, giving the girl a shake.  “Julia.”

Blood seeped in puddles past the dishcloth, welling up through Liara’s fingers.  Alenko shook her harder.  “Julia!”

Shepard touched her cheek.  “She’s like ice.”

“If we can get her to the _Normandy_ , Chakwas can-“

“No.”  Shepard shook her head.  “Kaidan, look at her.  We can’t even move her a meter, much less all the way down through the airlock.”

“Liara’s not doing any good,” he argued.  “If we can just go fast, then maybe...”

“Blood loss alone-“  


“Chakwas can give her a transfusion.”  


“You can only push blood so fast.  It’s a limitation of arterial diameter.”  Shepard sat back, ran her hand over her hair.  “It’s over.”

Liara’s only reaction to that was to push down harder, putting her full weight on the wound.  Julia didn’t even twitch. 

Alenko leaned over her face, tapping at her cheek, hard enough to wake her if she was still conscious.  Her lips parted and a last light breath escaped.  The body sagged.

“Julia?”  He put his fingers to her neck, and felt not even the faint ghost of a pulse.  Something in him deflated as what Shepard had been trying to tell him finally sunk in.  Bleeding out that fast, had Chakwas been standing in this room with every instrument of modern medicine available, Julia would still be dead.

Liara was still trying to staunch the wound, though the flow of blood had stopped.  Alenko tried to pry her off.  “Shepard’s right.  She’s gone.”

She shook her head and tried to push him away.  But insistently, gently, he pulled her back, and at least she let go, her bloody hands falling into her lap.  Her eyes fixed on the girl.

Alenko sat back, flooded with sadness and frustration that it ended like this.  She was only a kid, caught up in something a lot bigger than any teenager, and just when it looked like everything would turn out alright, the person who was the only constant in her life suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage.  Aneurisms were called time bombs for a reason.  What kind of luck was that?

Shepard rubbed the bridge of her nose.  As if echoing his thoughts, she said,  “There are major arteries running through the pelvis.  Bullet must have hit or ricocheted into one dead-on.  This girl must have the worst luck in half the galaxy.”

“ _Luck_?”  Liara’s head shot up.  “You shot her.”

Shepard looked back steadily, but spoke without much inflection at all.  “If I was trying to kill her, I would have shot her somewhere else.  I aimed for her leg.”

“Yes, shooting is your solution to everything.”  It was uncustomarily bitter.  Liara pursed her lips, got to her feet, and went to the sink, where she began to wash.

Shepard watched her like there was some response she wanted badly to make, but instead she also stood, holstering her gun.  “What do you think?  Seventeen, maybe eighteen?  Hell of a lot to live through in a few short years.”

He shook his head, and likewise rose.  “That kind of stress could make anyone snap.”

“Yes,” she said, significantly, and raised her eyes to his.  “It could.”

Alenko bristled.  He stared back with a sour taste in his mouth.  “We’re not going there.”

Liara looked between them, confused.  “I feel as though I’m not hearing all of this conversation.”

Shepard held his gaze one last long second.  “Never mind.  We still have one task left.”

She stepped over the body and left the room.  Though she didn’t speak, Alenko thought by the way she walked back to the ship’s med bay, the too-heavy thud of her boots on the causeway, that she was far more upset than she let on.  Well, anyone would be.

The arrived at Jacob’s bed, where Shepard began to consult the ventilator equipment controls.  Liara peered over her shoulder.  “Should I contact Dr. Chakwas?”

Shepard shook her head.  “No.  This Dr. Smith’s notes are very clear.  I’m not leaving him like this until whatever company owns this ship gets around to retrieving it.”

“How smart or informed could a doctor working on a ship like this possibly be?”  Liara laid her hand over the Shepard’s.  “By their own admission in the captain’s log, their equipment isn’t the best-“

“-hence why they couldn’t save Jacob, not why they couldn’t bring him back.”  She glanced at the man lying on the bed.  “He’s brain dead, Liara.  This is no way to… exist.”

Liara interposed herself between Shepard and Jacob.  “His medical records say he was nineteen.  Isn’t it worth a try, or haven’t we killed enough children today?”

Alenko swore the temperature of the air dropped ten full degrees as soon as the words left her mouth.  Even the hiss of the ventilator shrank from the room as Shepard straightened like a steel rod and said, in icy, measured tones, “I understand this is difficult for you after recent events.  I make allowances.  But do not ever speak to me like that again.”  Her stare was flat and sharp.  She bit off each word.  “Do you think I like this?”

Liara drew herself up and fled to the causeway, tagging the hatch shut behind her.

Shepard ran her hand over her hair.  “It was a mistake to let her come.”

“It was a mistake to come here at all,” he replied before common sense could intervene.  Insubordination, however mild, was a bad idea when she got like this.  He swallowed.  “I… don’t know why I said that, ma’am.”

“Because it’s a derelict ship, not even a navy ship, and there isn’t any good reason we should be here.”  Her half-smile held neither light nor humor.  “What did that foolish girl think she was going to do, Kaidan?  Hide out here for years until the power ran out, with nothing but a breathing corpse to keep her company?”

“Or search the extranet until she found someone or something she thought could save him.”  Beside them, Jacob stared motionless up at the bulkhead.  Alenko glanced at him.  “It’s not such a bad way to go.  He probably didn’t even feel anything.”

“This is the worst way to go,” Shepard said, clinically, like it was an academic subject to which she’d devoted some study.  “The worst way to die and the worst way to live, stuck, at the mercy of mindless machines and the indifference of those who operate them.  If it were me I’d hope for the kindness of a bullet to get it over with.”

Alenko eyed her.  “You really don’t like doctors, do you?”

“I don’t like people who think they know what’s best for me.”

He glanced at the hatch.  “Liara… just... She’s upset.  It might help her to know you’re upset, too.”

“Liara doesn’t want me to feel upset.   She wants me to feel regret.”

“You don’t?”  He blinked.  That was cold, even by the standards of Shepard trying to distance herself from something she didn’t want to deal with.

“Of course I wish it hadn’t happened like that.  But I didn’t make a mistake.  I’m not in the habit of second-guessing myself on the job.”

Alenko eyed her.  “You’d really do it again.”

She held his gaze, mouth fixed in a stubborn line, for long enough that he assumed that was her answer.  Until she looked away and wrapped her arms around herself.  “See if you can raise Chakwas on the comm.”

It took a few minutes, and then another fifteen or twenty for Chakwas to remotely review the medical charts and machine outputs.  As they waited for Chakwas’ response, Liara came back in the room, nervous and contrite.  “I’m sorry.  That was uncalled for.  I know you don’t…

Shepard didn’t look at her.  “She attacked us, Liara.  I didn’t want to hurt her but I wasn’t going to give her a chance to kill either of you.  First priority is to eliminate the threat.”

“There are other ways of subduing people.”  In her own way, Liara was just as stubborn as Shepard.  “You had two biotics with you.”

Shepard rubbed at her nose.  Still not looking Liara’s way.  “Yeah.  It’s just I usually don’t.”

Liara was likewise quiet.  “Sometimes I forget this is your life.  Not just something you’ve stumbled over.”

Unspoken but hanging in the air were the words _like it was for me._

Alenko cleared his throat.  “It’s not all bad.”

The three of them looked at the breathing corpse, a contradiction so blatant it was comical.  Shepard’s shoulders started to shake.  Alenko bit his cheek hard. 

But it was Liara that cracked first, an absurd chuckle escaping her lips.  Her hand flew to her mouth in shock.  “I- I’m sorry-“

Then Shepard lost it, laughing so hard she bent in half.  Alenko felt his last resistance give way and his own laugh rose out of his belly despite himself.  They stood their wheezing and leaning on each other, and every time they nearly came to a stop, someone would let out a final chuckle and set the others off again.

These had been the worst three days of his life since becoming a marine.  First they killed Liara’s mother, and then ended the last hope of an entire species, and now this.  But there were no people in the galaxy he’d rather have gone through it with.  It was a bond that went beyond camaraderie.  They were family.

Chakwas came back to the comm.  “I regret to say Dr. Smith’s findings are correct.  There’s nothing further to be done for the boy.”

“Thanks.”  Shepard cut the connection, shook her head, and went back to the console.  “Let’s do this and get the hell out of here.”

Though Alenko offered to have a look at the ventilator computer, it seemed a task Shepard wanted to do herself, so he folded his arms, leaned against the bulkhead, and waited.  Liara stood near him, hovering, twisting her fingers together.

Watching Shepard work with anything electronic was an exercise in patience.  She was built of contradiction, bright enough to have been good at just about anything, but her technological incompetence seemed almost more like a grudge than a deficiency. 

She couldn’t set foot on a habitable planet without lodging a complaint against the weather- but she’d positively reveled in the snowstorm on top of Port Hanshan.  He enjoyed her delight probably more than he should.  Something changed between them, somehow, on Noveria.  Shepard was more relaxed. She didn’t speak so carefully or mind so much when he didn’t either.

Maybe Liara was family, but Shepard was… something else.  Beyond even that.

It was unusual for Alenko to feel as close to anyone as he did to her.  They were good friends.  Better than good.  He'd liked her since he first met her, because she was confident and relentless and guarded and crazy and it showed in everything she did.  She’d turned a stiff upper lip into an art form.  In the med bay down in the hot labs, as he tried to pick the glass from her hair, Shepard had tried so hard to pretend everything from Liara’s loss to Ash’s injury to her own concussion was nothing more than the odd bad day.  As though anything less would have let everyone down.  He had to stop himself from wrapping her in his arms and telling her it would be ok.  It felt like the most natural impulse in the world- but Shepard hated anything that made her feel less than invulnerable. 

Just like now, as she worked doggedly to disable Jacob’s ventilator, another dead teenager behind them.  She hadn’t lied- she didn’t like doing this, but she’d go on doing it anyway, as often as the situation called for it.  No matter the cost.  She was so hard and so alone.

And he didn’t have the faintest idea what to do about any of it.  There was no next step.  She was his C.O.  Saren or no Saren, that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.  The only choice was to learn to live with these confused and clouded feelings without letting them get in the way.

Shepard pressed one last cue and stepped away from the console.  “That’s it. Now we… wait.”

She faced Jacob and stood at a parade rest, her hands locked behind her back and her eyes fixed ahead.  Alenko quietly came up beside her and adopted the same posture.  Liara stood at her other side.  They waited.

The hiss of the ventilator died.  Jacob’s chest stopped inflating with mechanical regularity.  It took a few minutes, but his heart monitor began to shriek a warning.  Shepard turned it off and noted the time. 

After the first several minutes, he glanced at her.  She saw out of the corner of her eye, though she didn’t move so much as a hair, and answered his silent question.  “Field emergency response says eight minutes.  You know that.”

He’d known, but forgotten since his training, years ago.  It wasn’t something that came up often with the kinds of injuries he saw.  Shepard had a mind like a steel trap when it came to information.  They waited some more. 

As minute eight concluded, she flicked the power switch on the equipment and the terminal died.  She reached forward and shut his eyes.  “She loved you very much, and you did all you could.  I’m sorry I couldn’t protect her either.”

There was nothing more to say or do.  They left the room.

As they waited for the airlock to cycle, Shepard spoke suddenly, chewing her lip.  “One thing does still bother me.”

Alenko finished locking his helmet into place, not believing for a second that it was only one thing.  “What’s that?”

“Their destination.”  The look she gave him was haunted.  “There’s no colony in Hawking Eta.”

/\/\/\/\/\

_68 hours post-Noveria_

Shepard was soundly asleep in her cabin when Lowe’s voice came over the intercom.  “Commander, we have a priority one call from the _SSV Reese._ ”

She’d been enjoying a rare episode of completely dreamless rest, which after events on the _Worthington_ was an absolute miracle.  Her headache pounded with renewed vigor.  _I am going to rip Rag’s eyes out through the goddamn hologram._  

“Right,” she said tersely.  “Be right there.”

The transmission was already piped in when she arrived in the comm room.  She laid into him straight away.  “Lieutenant Commander Laine, I do not have time to do your goddamn job for you, babysitting fucking batarian terr-“

“Shut up and listen to me.”  It was then that she realized she’d never seen him so pale.  “Nath, it’s not a normal cell or a slaver raid.  Balak’s leading them.”

“The survivor?”  She could feel the blood draining from her face.  It was the last name she ever expected to hear again.  “Fuck me.”

“Yeah.  Talk about your chickens coming home to roost.”

Shepard folded her arms and cocked her head.  “Does he know?”

“Do you think he’d be doing this if he didn’t?”  Laine’s voice had a strained and anxious edge to it that worried her more than everything else put together.

The old mission was all too clear.  Bursting into the building dressed as mercenaries, because assassination was strictly prohibited by galactic law, and invasion of batarian space was an act of war.  People erupting from the rooms.  Everything happening too fast to even really know who or what they were shooting.  Four of five targets confirmed.  The AA gun hitting them on the way out of the system. 

She shook her head.  “But if he knew, then the Hegemony-“

“They were separatists, remember?  They didn’t want the Hegemony’s attention any more than us.  Maybe he figured it out on his own and didn’t tell anyone except his crew here.  Maybe he’s blinded by revenge.  How the hell should I know?”

She took a breath.  “What is it that he’s done, Rag?”

“He’s hijacked a mining asteroid.  He’s going to turn Terra Nova into a crater.”


	40. Lieutenant Commander Laine

For a creaky, lumbering bureaucracy, it was amazing what the navy could accomplish in a few short hours when the need was great.  They were twenty minutes from the Hades Gamma relay that would take them to Exodus and Terra Nova.  All traffic had been cleared from the node pending their arrival. 

Shepard spent the approach finalizing strategy with Admiral Hackett in _Normandy’s_ comm room.  His infamous calm remained intact.  She wished she felt the same.  Balak’s name was a thin black needle swimming through her stomach, leaving ulcers wherever it pierced the lining.  Lately the universe was going out of its way to hand her bad situations and rub her face in her mistakes.

Hackett folded his hands behind his back.  “Commander Laine is awaiting you at the Utopia system relay.  He’s been tracking this cell for six months.  You’ll need his insight.”

She nodded, all business.  “We’ll pick him up on the other side and proceed to Asgard System.  My engineers tell me if they tweak our system performance above spec we’ll arrive with dry tanks, but we can get there in about twenty hours.  According to Laine, Balak’s cell is still en route, and their ships should be slower.  They should only have a few hours on us by the time we arrive.”

“We’re anticipating that by then they’ll have acquired their target.  There are over a hundred discrete mining operations scattered throughout the system.  About half of those have some form of crude propulsion for handling the asteroid.  We’ve increased our patrols and deployed marines to each, but realistically we’re spread too thin to hope for anything more than slowing them down.”  His blue eyes settled on her.  “That’s where you come in.”

“Once we know which asteroid is the target, the _Normandy_ will fly in using the stealth drive.”  She pulled up a simulation representing a likely landing scenario.  “The ship will set down opposite the propulsion sites, using the bulk of the asteroid to shield our approach from any batarian eyes watching the sky.” 

Most commercial asteroids these days were fitted with basic engines, to maneuver them into more convenient orbits for haulers.  Small lines lit up on the surface of her hypothetical asteroid, leading from the ship to various sites.  Shepard continued, “We then proceed in the Mako.  Priority one is reacquiring the propulsion systems to avoid collision with the colony, but I plan to deploy a small strike team to simultaneously neutralize the batarian ships.  When these terrorists decide to cut and run, I want their asses grounded.”

Hackett paused a moment, studying her.  “I reviewed Balak’s dossier.  Don’t make this personal, Commander.  More than four million lives depend on the success of your mission.”

She straightened.  “You don’t need to doubt my commitment, sir.  I fully appreciate the gravity of the situation.”

He shuffled through his datapad.  “Moving on- Dr. Chakwas submitted a note of concern regarding your current medical condition to my office.  I’m inclined to put Commander Laine in charge of field operations and leave you to coordinate from the _Normandy_.”

“That’s-“  She bristled immediately, dismissive and defensive, but she forced herself to bite back the incendiary comment and take a breath.  He wasn’t like Anderson.  Only dispassion and logic, not raw emotion, would persuade him.  “Sir, I’m not experiencing any symptoms aside from one hell of a headache, for which I’m not taking painkillers.  I’m not lightheaded, my ears aren’t ringing, my vision is within parameters and I’m better rested than before we got to Noveria.”

“Be that as it may-“

Shepard wasn’t finished.  “Additionally, sir, while my people are professionals, I’m the one who’s spent months earning their confidence and trust under stressful conditions, not Laine, and we need every edge we can get.  These are exceptional circumstances.  I can do this.”

Hackett stared at her a long moment, critically.  She lifted her chin.  He shook his head.  “When I was young man, moving up the ranks, it seemed like there wasn’t a warm body in the navy who didn’t covet that N7 commendation you’ve got emblazoned on your chest.  But not me.”

“Why was that, sir?”

He snorted.  “I wanted to live to see the latter half of my life.”

She felt herself flush.  “We’re dedicated, not reckless.  We like to do our job.  We spent a lot of time learning to do it well.”

“Noted.”  He set the datapad down.  “I leave the matter to your discretion.  Once you’re through the relay, you’ll be operating in radio silence, so I’ll say it now.  Godspeed and good luck, Commander.  Get it done.”

Shepard gave him a firm nod.  “Yes, sir.”

“Hackett out.”  He reached forward and terminated the transmission.

/\/\/\/\/\

The docking of the _MSV Reese_ proceeded without delay.  Shepard waited on the _Normandy_ side of the airlock while their guest cycled through decontamination, and took a deep, steadying breath.  No matter what happened in the next few days, or how many ugly drawers this mission might reopen, she was determined to keep calm.  Pressly and Alenko stood with her, as ranking officers aboard ship, and Joker oversaw the docking operation from the bridge with thinly veiled curiosity.  Her head throbbed.

Alenko took in her rather stiff posture.  “So what’s the deal with this guy?”

“He’s the one who uncovered Balak’s plans.  He’s been tracking this cell for months.”  Shepard licked her lips.  “We used to be close.  Not so much these days.”

“What happened?”

“Balak.  A year ago.” she said shortly.

He raised an eyebrow.  “Explains why you’ve been drawn tighter than piano wire since we found out he was coming.”

The hatch split apart.  Laine was much as she remembered, stocky, swarthy, and space-pale, without so much as a single strand of his mop of auburn hair combed into place.  He broke into a smile when he saw her.  “Bo.”

He moved in as if to offer her one of those back-thumping hugs of old comrades-in-arms.  She stepped smartly out of reach and offered her hand.  “Welcome aboard, Commander.”

Irritation flashed across his face.  Shepard saw it, and derived some small satisfaction from the easy way it slid off her shield of professionalism.  Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult after all.  Or maybe between Noveria and those two kids on the _Worthington_ , she was just too wrung out to care. 

Laine shook hands with perhaps a bit more force than necessary.  “So this is your new digs, huh?  Cutting edge frigate fresh off the line?”

“Beats the hell out of a corvette.”  Shepard could not have stopped herself if the Conduit were staked on keeping her mouth closed.

Laine laughed.  She remembered the sound.  Laine was loud and charming, when he cared to be- he filled up a room.  His laughter was like that, larger than life, and only half genuine.  “I heard a rumor the last time I was in Brazil, that you were thinking about teaching at ICT.”

Her stomach twisted.  She flashed him a bright smile that was only faintly fixed.  “And give all this up?  Never.”

“That’s what I told them.”

Before he could launch into more gossip, she took charge of the conversation, gesturing to her crew.  “My executive officer, Navigator Pressly, and the _Normandy’s_ marine detail commander, Staff Lieutenant Alenko.  This is Lieutenant Commander Laine, special liaison for this mission.”

They offered salutes, which Laine returned with customary insouciance and a raised eyebrow.  “The queen of micromanagement has a marine detail commander?  Next you’ll be telling me she actually sleeps at night.”

Alenko’s polite deference to a superior officer didn’t waver, but he was eyeing Laine like a puppy who just peed the carpet.  Shepard intervened before he was forced to reply.  “If you ever took your head out of your ass, Rag, you’d realize a crew of forty doesn’t run itself.”

Laine let that one go.  He ran his hand through his hair.  “Took you long enough, Nath, but thank god you’re here.  FUBAR doesn’t begin to cover it.  I hope this bucket of bolts can do more than limp to Asgard.”

“Once we’re underway, I doubt we’ll be moving at your usual speed.  You might want to hang onto something,” Shepard shot back.  It was scary how easily she fell back into their tired, habitual one-upmanship.  She glanced at her helmsman.  “Joker, get us the hell out of here.”

Joker rerouted his eyes to his control panel.  “Aye aye, ma’am.”

Laine rubbed his hands together, eager to begin.  “Where are we set up?”

“Comm room.  Follow me.”  Shepard walked briskly aft, Laine and Pressly in tow.

Joker and Alenko exchanged a look.  The pilot snorted.  “Didn’t know South America grew assholes that large.  Almost as surprising as watching the commander let him get away with it.  She’d have my ass for lunch if I talked to her like that.”

Alenko folded his arms and let out a sigh.  “It’s going to be a long flight.”

“And they’re both redheads.”  Joker made a face.  “Two N7s with tempers the size of Shepard’s crowded onto one measly frigate.  What could possibly go wrong?”

Shepard glanced over her shoulder from halfway across the CIC, realizing that they were short a member.  “Alenko!”

The lieutenant sighed again and made to follow her.  “Wish me luck.”

“Better you than me,” Joker said, and set them on a course out of the Utopia system.

/\/\/\/\/\

At 0140 the alarm sounded, signaling engagement and summoning the crew to their posts.  Shepard was already awake and waiting in the CIC when her senior officers stumbled in.  She spent all night pacing the deck and waiting for confirmation of their target, ever since the _Normandy_ dipped into Asgard’s gravity well.  A simulation of the system stood in place of the galaxy map with each mining facility highlighted.  One was circled by a blinking red halo.

Alenko spotted it and visibly fought off the dregs of sleep.  After ten years of service she rather thought he should have mastered the trick of waking quickly, but it continued to elude him.  He rubbed his eyes.  “We have the asteroid?”

Joker interrupted on the comm, sounding tense.  “ETA thirty minutes, ma’am.”

“Thanks.” 

Laine raised an eyebrow.  “Thirty minutes?  We’re that close already?”

Shepard nodded at the map.  “They’ve made landfall on the metallic asteroid X57.”

Alenko’s brow furrowed.  “X57 sounds familiar.”

“It should.  There was a big press release about six months back- the colonists planned to place it orbit around Terra Nova for transformation into a space port.  The batarians chose well.”  She zoomed in on the map until a holograph of X57 stood front and center.  It was a pockmarked potato, the gray-brown color of nothing, dotted in several places by white prefabs.  Three fusion torches shone white-hot like miniature suns against the planetoid’s underbelly.  “Which brings us to the bad news.  The operation was only days away from orbital insertion.  Balak accelerated X57 out of a gravitational capture trajectory and onto a collision course.”  

“Am I reading this right?”  Alenko glanced at her.  “We have four hours at the outside before the collision trajectory becomes irreversible?”

Laine crossed his arms and sat back on his heels.  “The place isn’t that big.  We ought to hang back a few more hours just to make things fair.” 

Alenko rolled his eyes as Laine’s attention returned to the projection of X57, but the gesture was a half-second premature.  Laine caught it in his peripheral vision and his cocky grin widened considerably.  “Don’t worry, L.T.  Bo and I’ve been through plenty worse.”  He elbowed Shepard.  “Just like out in Styx Theta a few years back.”

“That was a hell of a ride,” she said before she could think better of it.  It was as hard to forget the first ten good years of their friendship as the last twelve awful months.  She was annoyed with herself.  Alenko was shooting daggers at Laine, who seemed to enjoy it.

“That’s an odd nickname,” Garrus commented to Shepard as he joined them in the CIC, closely followed by Wrex.  “Bo, I mean.  I’ve never heard anyone else use it.”

Shepard felt her face heat.  “I got stuck with it in training,” she muttered.  “It’s a pun on my name.  A bad one.”

Laine scratched his head.  “I could’ve sworn we started calling you that after you lost the group of ‘scientists’ during that exercise on Etrana-”

“And let’s not forget how you got the name Ragtop,” she cut in.  “I told you that cave was too low for a Mako.  Scraped the turret clear off and almost sent yourself through the goddamn forward port.”

Garrus’ face was blank.  He looked at Alenko, who shrugged.  “Human inside jokes.  I’ll explain later.”

The lieutenant’s lips twitched.  Shepard swore she saw a smirk behind them, and her face grew several degrees hotter.  “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

Alenko struggled against laughter.

Wrex was out of patience.  “Why’d you call us up here?  I hope it wasn’t to trade old war stories.”

“Right.”  Shepard, glad to return to the point, zoomed in further until they were looking at a cluster of small batarian ships crouched on the surface.  “I’ve got a special task.  I’m going to take my team and hit the fusion torches, one by one, but I need the two of you to cover the exit.”

“These pictures are live?”  Wrex leaned into the map.

“Fifteen minutes old.  The rotation of the asteroid took it out of view.”  Shepard crossed her arms.  “Balak’s in this for keeps.  He won’t evacuate X57 until he knows collision is inevitable.”

Garrus glanced at her.  “You talk like you know him.”

“Not well,” she said.  “Enough.”

For the first time since coming aboard, Laine seemed unsure.  He licked his lips.  “We encountered Balak during a classified mission last year.  He wasn’t supposed to survive it.  He’s a Hegemony officer, nominally, but for this guy it was more of a day job.”

Wrex let out a grunt that was half startled and half grudgingly impressed.  “You were sent to assassinate him?  I didn’t know the Alliance had the spine.”

Shepard reached a decision.  There was too much at stake to keep her team in the dark, OPSEC considerations or no, and after their last few missions, she had lost patience for keeping secrets.  “We were deployed to eliminate a cell of Hegemony dissidents inside batarian space.  The batarian government might be secretive, repressive, and paranoid, but they’re predictable.  The navy likes the enemy they know.  They spent years fighting to end the raids and the slaving.  A successful coup could upset that fragile peace.  That’s why they sent us.”

Laine glanced at her.  “I’m not sure they need all the details.”

“Fuck it,” she said, without a trace of passion.  “The Alliance wants to charge me, they know where to find me.  I’m tired of- I’m tired.”

Alenko frowned, that little line appearing between his eyebrows.  “I can see why he’d be upset.  But destroying a colony of four million?  That’s overkill.  It doesn’t add up.”

Shepard answered matter-of-factly. “The mission went bad fast.  The dissidents, Balak among them, holed up in a kind of town hall on Bash’bat.”

“More of a community temple,” Laine interjected.

“That makes it sound so much worse than it was, and it was bad enough.”

Garrus tilted his head.  “I thought batarians didn’t have much religion.”

She shrugged.  “It’s not something most humans, at least, would recognize as religion, and batarians themselves don’t translate it that way.  More like… elevating fatalism to an art form.”

Laine snorted.  “It’s time worship.”

“At any rate, it was a building used by the residents of Bash’bat for governmental and ceremonial purposes.”  Shepard dragged them back to the point.  “An unexpected move, but our orders were clear.”

“There were civilian casualties,” Garrus clarified.  Alenko’s frown deepened.

“Yes,” Laine said succinctly.  “They weren’t above using them as shields.  Some of them volunteered.  In the confusion, Balak escaped.  We believe he was the one who called an antiaircraft strike against our ship on the way out.  Our drive was severely damaged.”

Shepard shook her head.  “I don’t know if they left us for dead or their equipment reported our ship destroyed.”

Laine crossed his arms.  “Either way, it was a hell of a long trip back home.”

“Longer for some of us than others,” Shepard retorted sharply, before her brain had a chance to stall her tongue.  That was the last topic she ever wanted to revisit in front of her crew.

Laine swallowed, once.  Garrus looked between them, taking in Shepard’s glare, and moved back to business.  “So this could be about retribution, or just a standard act of batarian terrorism.  I’m not sure it matters.”

It mattered, because it was the former, their largest colony was at risk, and it was their fault, hers and Laine’s.  But Garrus was correct that debating was a waste of valuable time.  “I don’t care how you ground the batarian ships, but I want their bellies glued to this rock.  Can you do it?”

Wrex rubbed his chin.  “They don’t look fortified.  Your terrorists spread themselves thin taking over this piece of space junk.  But after we’re inside, it’ll be defensible.”

Garrus studied the images.  “I want Tali.  If anyone can take out a drive core, it’s her.”

“No explosions,” Shepard cautioned.  “Those ships are sitting on top of X57’s main facility.”

His mandibles flared, exposing sharply pointed turian teeth.  “Explosions aren’t what I had in mind.”

Alenko glanced at her.  His voice was slightly flat. “How are we going to cover the other sites?”

She adjusted the map, zooming out and across the surface to the fusion torches.  “Every torch we disable buys us a little time, but not much.  If we shut down all three inside the four hour window, X57 will narrowly miss Terra Nova and continue into the inner solar system.  If not…”

He studied the holograph.  “X57’s what, twenty klicks long?”

“Twenty-two.”

A look horror replaced the faint disapproval.  “Everything within about a thousand kilometers of impact will simply burn.  Further out, the fatalities will still be high, and the infrastructure damage alone...  The debris will wreck the planet’s ecosystem, maybe for millions of years.  Even if it hits the middle of nowhere the colony’s finished.”

Shepard let that sink a few moments.  “Then we better get this right.”

/\/\/\/\/\

There are few rocky surfaces in all the universe older than those of the asteroids.

Metallic asteroids like X57 began life as larger bodies, planetoids or true planets massive enough not only to pull themselves into spheres but differentiate their inner layers, metals migrating center, abandoning the lighter elements scattered through the frothy, crinkled surface as the body cooled.  But the passing of a large gas giant exacted its tidal toll, its gravity ripping the young planet into so many pieces- asteroids- and leaving them to languish for billions of years at the trailing Lagrange point of its orbit.

So it was for X57, until five years ago when a mining company discovered its rich veins of iridium, and the government of Terra Nova selected it from several candidates to serve as its new space port.  Propulsion from the array of fusion torches caused the orbit to decay, a slow inevitable spiral towards Terra Nova, as engineers sold its guts as down payment on the construction and began drilling the first of many tunnels to serve the commerce of the colony.

Now, the _Normandy’s_ Mako rambled across the rolling, silent surface throwing up lazy arcs of the gray-brown powder, which coated X57 almost a foot thick in places after so many eons of powderization by microimpacts and other cosmic abuse.  The vehicle had no room for six; Shepard, Alenko, and Laine clung to its sides as it jounced along barren hills washed in earthshine from the looming bulk of Terra Nova.  There was no atmosphere to blur the lines between rock and space, or between stars and land.  The horizon line bit so harshly into the void that it seemed unreal, a line inscribed on an old tin plate.

Their shadows, too, were crisp against the surface, excised in precise strokes of deepest black.  It was true that every Alliance marine passed through zero gee training as a matter of course.  Low gee, however, was a different matter entirely.  X57 might be a very large asteroid but it had no gravity worth mentioning; escape velocity was barely twelve meters per second.  A careless visitor could be tossed gracelessly into the sky following an overeager leap or an ill-advised burst of gunfire, with no hope of recovery.  Even simple walking presented certain challenges.  Inside the prefabs laid out by the Terra Nova engineers, artificial gravity would make navigation easier, but the surface dangers remained.

And so, due to vehicle constraints and lack of training alike, Shepard reluctantly left the bulk of her marines back at the ship, with orders to guard it.  She didn’t trust the batarians to not mount an attack in spite of the distance from X57’s facilities.  These sentinels were arrayed along the graceful wings and fuselage of the ship itself, where their mag boots could do them some good.

It was a silent ride.  Little sound came up through the vibrations of her suit where it touched the metal of the tank.  To keep the Mako pinned to the surface, its core generated a mass effect field oriented with a half gee of downward force.  Her forearm and ankle felt uncomfortably strange where they pierced the field, a knife edge of different gravities, but she did her best to ignore it.  So far from camp there were no vehicle tracks, no footsteps, not even scoured patches of rock from the rude flare of intrasystem engines.  They were the first creatures to set foot on this part of X57 since the asteroid was formed.

Shepard’s thoughts, however, did not dwell on their isolation.  The enemy ships to which they must deliver Garrus, Wrex, and Tali were parked immediately beside the underground facility that housed most of X57’s workers and vital systems.  It would be crawling with batarians.  She hoped to find only a patrol or two present on the surface, but their deaths would bring others as surely as pouring boiling water on an anthill.  They’d have to be quick, and not a little lucky.

Wrex grunted into the comm.  “Two minutes out.  Nothing on the scanners.”

The squat, dirty white pillbox that was the above-ground entrance to the main facility now sat on the horizon.  Shepard thought she could make out a pair of surface crawlers parked beside it.  There were no guards at the door.  All of their radio contact was encrypted, they’d made no long-range transmissions, and the IES board was green, but the lack of activity worried her all the same.  “We’re sure they didn’t pick us up?”

Tali sounded as anxious.  “As sure as we can be.  I’m hearing some chatter over typical Hegemony frequencies, but can’t break its encryptions.  I think there would be a lot more activity if they spotted us.”

The longer they could remain unnoticed, the better their odds of success.  The ships came into view, clustered tightly, a protective formation.  Shepard was about to give the order to halt when a burst of radio static assaulted her ear.  Her free hand clamped over her helmet instinctively.  “Agh!  What the hell?”

From the way Alenko and Laine were wincing across the top of the Mako, she guessed they heard it too.  Her omni-tool struggled to damp the signal into bearable range. 

“I don’t know,” Tali said, her voice also pained.  “It’s not one of ours, it’s not one of theirs-“

“…line… can anyone hear… arians control… held… Simon…”

The barely intelligible transmission died in another burst of static.  Shepard’s interest sharpened.  “ _Normandy_ , did you copy that?”

Lowe answered.  “It seems to be coming from the asteroid’s comm system, ma’am, the one used by the miners and engineers.”

“The workers are still alive?”  There was no scenario she’d considered with her team or Hackett that allowed for the possibility Balak would not execute every last inhabitant of X57 during the initial takeover.  The idea left Shepard incredulous- and surprisingly uplifted.  A grin crept over her face behind the breather helmet mask.  “Holy shit.”

“It seems so, ma’am.”

“Can you clean it up?”

“Trying- there’s only so much we can do at this end.  It’s a bad signal.  Their equipment might be damaged.”

Pressly joined the conversation.  “Commander, I see a comm tower in the surveillance images.  There are fresh vehicle tracks all around it.  I can’t tell if it’s damaged, and we might not be able to afford the time to check it out.”

“Send me the coordinates.  Nobody expected survivors.  I need more information.”

“Yes, ma’am, transmitting now.”

Garrus brought the Mako to a halt beside the main facility.  There were still no signs of the batarian presence.  The Mako passengers climbed out carefully, mindful of the light gravity, and Shepard’s team similarly floated gently back to the surface.  She extended her hand.  “Good luck.  Stay sharp.”

“You too, Shepard.”  Garrus gripped it firmly for a moment, before the three took off towards the ships in slow, graceful bounds.

Meanwhile, Shepard ambled towards the crawlers.  Laine pointed behind them.  “Hey, Nath?  Mako’s this way.”

“We don’t know where the batarians are.”  She tried a handle and found the door unlocked.  “If they’re holed up here, I’m not going to make it easy for them to follow us to the torches, or anywhere else.”

She retrieved the knife from her boot and pried off an access panel under the dash.  From there, it was quick work to sort through the mess of cabling and neatly slice the power line to the wheels.  They’d still be able to power up the vehicle and turn on the main systems- it would take longer than Shepard had to disable it entirely- but without physical patching they’d never make it move. 

Laine trailed after.  “How can you be sure that wasn’t a fluid line?  These tanks have some pretty nasty stuff floating around in them.”

She gave him a withering look.  “I’ve been able to identify a power line into an accelerator since I was seven years old.  My father would be ashamed to show his face if I screwed up something that basic.”

Shepard moved on to the second crawler.  He crowded her as she climbed up, so she planted her heel in his chest and shoved.  Not enough to cause injury, just to get him out of her space.  He laughed as he tumbled back in the low gravity.  “Same old Nathaly.”

She began working on the second access panel.  “What I’ll never understand is how I knew you for as long as I did, but it took Chahine’s death for me to realize what a complete bastard you are.”

Captain Chahine was the commanding officer of the mission where they first met Balak.  Shepard had been her second.  She was annoyed at herself, a little, for not calling the incident what it was- murder- but there were some stories she still hoped to avoid telling before this operation was finished.  Any one of her crew listening on this frequency could hear them when they were forced to communicate like this, over their helmet comms.

Laine sighed.  “How long are you going hold one mistake against me?  It doesn’t seem fair.”

“How long have you got?” she asked tersely, and cut the second power line.  “We’re finished here.  Move out.”

Alenko was already positioned in the navigator’s seat, tracing a route across X57 that would take them to the transmission tower.  Laine passed through to the gun, and Shepard took up the driver’s station.  If Alenko was paying attention to their conversation, he had the tact not to mention it.  “Coordinates are set.  Ready to roll on your order, ma’am.”

Shepard was not so polite as she threw the tank in gear.  “I’m glad someone on this squad can put himself to better use than dogging my steps.”

“You’ve done nothing but snipe at me since I came aboard your ship,” Laine complained.  “I kind of hoped we could put this behind us.  You know, new mission, new leaf.  It’s been a year, for crissake.”

“Hard left here,” Alenko interrupted.  They were navigating a narrow ridge, a bare wrinkle in the asteroid’s surface that led to the high ground and the antenna.

Shepard flicked her hands across the controls.  “I’m not interested in making amends with you.  But it’s never about what other people want, is it, Rag?  That’s how Chahine ended up dead.”

“I don’t know if that mission was special or if you’ve just been knocked through this way too many times, but you threw a bender.  It’s still riding you.  Maybe you’re right and I am a bastard, but that doesn’t mean you get to blame me until the end of time for your unresolved issues.”

“You’re the one so obsessed that you went out to the Terminus to track Balak down.”  She half-turned in her seat, glaring over her shoulder.  “That’s why you didn’t tell me straight off this was Balak, the first time you called, right?  You thought you could deliver his head on a platter and everything would go back to how it-“

“Shepard, cliff!” Alenko yelled.

“Shit!”  Her arms blurred as she struggled to turn the tank.  It veered away with some speed, necessitating a further correction.  Shepard wrestled the controls.  They bounced along for a good twenty meters like a wayward rubber ball before finally coming to a stop dead center on the ridge. 

Shepard sat back and drew a shaky breath.  Laine held the gun sight with a death grip.  Alenko pinched the bridge of his nose, and was first to speak out of the stunned aftermath.  “Ok.  This has gone far enough.”

Laine bristled.  “I don’t recall anyone putting you in charge, Lieutenant.”

Alenko refused to be quieted.  “For the past day, everyone on this crew has endured your little pissing contest.  You’re mad as hell at each other over something nobody else understands.  We get it.  But there’s at least a few people on this rock and four million on the planet below depending on us working together.  Shouldn’t that be our focus right now?” 

He paused for breath.  Laine was red with anger.  There was a curdle in Shepard’s stomach that felt like shame.  She licked her lips and hit the accelerator, gently.  In a much calmer tone, she said, “This ridge is narrow, but it’s the best path to the radio transmitter.  I need to concentrate.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”  Alenko sat back as well, returning his attention to his instruments.

After a moment, Laine said, “You’re going to let him get away with that?”

“I’m not in the habit of chastising my officers for being right.”  She steered the vehicle gently left.  “Anyway, my head hurts too much already for this shit.”

“Are you sure you should be driving with a head injury?” Laine asked, skeptical.

Shepard snorted and accelerated up the hill.

They drove to the transmitter with little further conversation.  There wasn’t much to it- a tall antenna situated on the highest point within the miner’s camp, complete with a control terminal at the base.  The terminal was offline.  Alenko shook his head as they approached it.  “No wonder the transmission was garbled.  There was nothing to boost the signal.”

Shepard crossed her arms and stared up its length, silver against the night.  “Can you fix it?”

“Give me a few minutes.”  He brought up the keyboard and started exploring the software.

Laine sauntered up beside her, but for once he didn’t crowd her space, or try to lighten the mood with a joke at her expense.  He, too, stared up at the antenna.  “You’re not the only one who still thinks about that mission, you know.  I’ve been looking for twelve months but I never thought I’d actually have Balak in my sights again.”

She started a bit, caught off-guard.  “You’ve been searching for him since that mission ended?”

He folded his arms, not taking his eyes from the tower.  “Since the day we were returned to active duty.”

Shepard blinked, flabbergasted.  “Why?”

“It was his fault.  He shot out the drive. What happened to you-“ Laine cleared his throat.  “What happened to all of us, that’s on him.”

It was both too hard and too easy to remember Rag as he was a year ago, her stalwart friend, as she watched him wait without pushing the issue or making forced jokes.  It was the most natural he’d seemed over all their scant communication in that time.  Shepard left Arcturus the second the medical officers released them, boarding the first shuttle to anywhere and didn’t bother to leave a note.  By the time her shore leave ended, Laine was out on another mission.  They never talked about it.  What happened between him and Chahine was not explainable, but she also wanted to forget everything.  He was an uncomfortable reminder.

For a small moment, though, none of that mattered.  She allowed herself to wonder if it was possible to put the mission behind them.  If he wasn’t so damn stubborn in his insistence on her forgiveness instead of taking some iota of responsibility…  But maybe Rag couldn’t handle it either. 

Shepard likewise folded her arms.  “Do you remember when we fixed that transmitter out on that Terminus colony?”

“The one where the colony mayor kept complaining that she didn’t need a pair of N7 agents working on a simple comm tower?”

“Yeah.”  Shepard chuckled.  “In fairness, if I’d been carrying the kinds of messages she was on that tower I wouldn’t have wanted us messing with it either.”

“Yet still not as surprising as the idea that either of you could fix a transmitter,” Alenko interrupted.  The cutting remark was unlike him.  However, before Shepard could do more than furrow her brow, he continued, “Speaking of which, we’re finished here.  I can try scanning for the transmission we heard earlier.”

Shepard ceased examination of the antenna and walked over to him, slow, careful steps that were more like leaps in the low gravity.  “Do it.”

He adjusted the frequency until he found a human voice.  His brow furrowed.  “Wasn’t it a woman speaking before?”

“Must be another survivor.  Patch us in.”

With the transmitter repaired, the signal was crystal clear.  “This is Simon Atwell.  Is anybody hearing this?  Kate?  Aaron?  Hymes?  Anyone?”

Shepard activated her comm link’s encryption and patched it through.  “This is Commander Shepard, Systems Alliance.  Do you read?”

There was a pause.  “Oh, thank god.  I guess those marines they sent up were good for something after all.  They told us it was a training exercise!”

“I’m sorry, but we couldn’t risk a leak.”  Shepard leaned against the terminal.  “Can you tell me what happened?”

“The batarians landed maybe five hours ago.  I was out checking one of the excavation sites- I’m the chief engineer, so sooner or later, everything’s my problem- talking to one of my engineers, Katie, over the radio.  Really amazing girl, one of my best-“

“Stay focused, Mr. Atwell.”

“Right.  Anyway, from her end I heard a lot of noise, breaking glass, yelling, that kind of thing, and then gunfire.  I’ve been trying to raise her or any of my other people on the line ever since.”

“And the batarians haven’t found you yet?”

“No- I’ve kept moving, looking for my people out in the field when the attack hit.”  His voice wavered.  “I- I found one of them.  Mendel.  Somebody- those alien bastards beat him up good before they shot him in the head.  I’m at his mobile hab, now.”

“I want you to stay there-“

“No, listen.”  He coughed.  “You’ve got to shut down the fusion torches.  They’d been turned off for months, but we were prepping them for final orbit insertion a few days from now.  This guy, their leader, tortured my people for the access codes and fired them up.  I listened to it happen.  He’s had the torches going full blast since then.  Is he really trying to bombard the colony?”

“Yes.  He’s got X57 on an intercept trajectory.  If we don’t get the torches offline in the next three hours, we won’t be able to alter the course to avoid impact.”

“Oh, god.  My family- my kids, my grandkids- they’re all in Arones.  Along with a lot of other people.”

“Mr. Atwell, we will shut down those torches.”  Ships could break their bones on the wall of Shepard’s determination.  “But I need your help.  Specifically, those access codes.”

“Right.  I’m sending them now.”  Numbers flashed up on the terminal.  “Also- we were about to put in a tunnel right next to Torch No. 2.  The area’s littered with buried mines, all active.”

Shepard rubbed her helmet.  “And here I forgot to requisition a cow before we left.”

“If you can find a path through, you can disarm them inside the torch building.” Atwell sounded lost.  ”What does the Hegemony get out of this, after sticking to their own space for so long?  I saw them smash the faceplates of guys working vacuum.  They’ve set varren on people with no escape and laughed.  I heard them.” 

Alenko met her gaze through the faceplate.  Some days she thought she did this job out of an overdeveloped sense of duty.  Laine did it for the rush.  Kaidan did it because it was the right thing to do.  Though there was likely something very wrong with her, the flash of righteous anger in his eyes as Simon described the workers’ treatment made her heart race.  She cleared her throat and looked back at the terminal.  “We think these are dissidents, not representing the Hegemony.”

“I’ll tell you this, their leader?  Balak?  All the others are scared stiff of him.  Maybe he dragged them along, too.”

“Maybe,” Shepard said, though she doubted it.  “Sit tight and stay hidden.  If I need you, I’ll call again, but otherwise stay off the comm.  If they find you-“

“Yeah.  I know.  Just- just don’t fail.  My wife and I came to Terra Nova with the original settlers.  I don’t want it to end like this.”

“It won’t.  I promise.  Shepard out.”  She stepped back from the terminal and looked at her team, only to find Alenko and Laine both staring over the edge of the ridge.

Spread out below them was the whole of the camp.  The early recon made it look as the though the torches were clustered together; from here, it was obvious each was tucked into a small valley surrounded by jagged ridges that knew nothing of erosion.  Here and there, smaller mobile habs dotted the surface.  Shepard wondered how many of their occupants were still alive.

Alenko glanced at her.  “It’s going to be work, getting from torch to torch.”

“The timeline might be tighter than we hoped,” she acknowledged.  “But I’m not going to let Balak get away with this.  I don’t care what axe he’s grinding.”

Laine shrugged.  “That guy, Atwell, had a point.  What does Balak hope to get out of this?  Six months ago, he fled batarian space for the Terminus and started putting together a team.  Until a few weeks back it looked like the Hegemony finally chucked him out, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Don’t look at me,” Alenko said.  “I’m still processing the fact that the Alliance apparently intervenes militarily in the governments of hostile foreign powers.  Whatever happened to the classics, like stealing an election or smuggling in propaganda?”

Shepard eyed him, not sure if the sarcasm was derisive or humorous.  “I suggested we drop bales of badly translated pamphlets onto Bash’bat, but no.  Everyone wanted to go the exciting route.”

“Like you’re ever happy if you don’t get to kick down a few doors,” Laine groused.  “Pamphlets my ass.”

They climbed back into the Mako and started making their way down to the first torch.  Shepard begrudged every crucial minute she spent navigating the rough terrain.  She could feel their temporal cushion growing thinner ahead of them.  Orbital mechanics was an exacting, demanding science and moving an object the mass of X57 was no mean feat.  It wasn’t the sort of task she could fudge and pull off at the last second.  And it wasn’t as though Terra Nova could be adequately evacuated ahead of the catastrophe.  Maybe if they had a year or two of warning.

At long last, she parked the Mako beside the entrance to the torch control facility.  Two hours, thirty nine minutes remaining.  Shepard signaled her team, drew her rifle, and slipped inside.

The sudden return of just under a full gee of gravity was disorienting.  She was grateful there were no batarians waiting in the foyer alongside the racks of envirosuits and other outdoor equipment.  Beyond the inner hatch, however, she could hear feet scrambling on the metal floors.  Some of them sounded like they had claws.

The squad formed up beside the hatch.  Shepard took a breath and tagged it open.  Immediately, fire from at least five combatants thundered through the doorway. 

Batarians were not widely considered an attractive race.  Lacking both the raw and apparently universal aesthetic appeal of the asari and the sharply defined grace of the birdlike turians, they seemed a grotesque hodge-podge of features.  Large, bony heads with elaborate skull crests housed four deep-set eyes and flaring nostrils laid flush to the face.  The meaty jowls of their jaw muscles framed bulbous lips, flowing up to meet tiny goblin ears.  Their short, powerful frames were well-suited to the life of constant conflict that was their best-known cultural hallmark. 

Now, they hunched down, shoulders squared and mouths set in determined lines.

Chips of plastic and fiberglass flew up from the far wall where their bullets sank into the habitat, pelting her suit.  In that brief glimpse before she was forced back into cover, however, she saw the batarians arrayed behind makeshift cover of supply crates, desks, and terminals.  None of it seemed likely to be bolted to the floor, nor particularly heavy.

She got Alenko’s attention over the noise.  “Clear out those barricades!  We’ll cover you!”

“Got it.” He crouched on the floor by her knees and leaned out a half-second after Shepard and Laine began firing diagonally across each other from their cover, sowing chaos in the room beyond and clearing a window through the onslaught. 

Alenko swept out his hand and a wave of blue shot out across the floor, taking a crate concealing two batarians at the middle and flinging it back, barreling over the men behind it.  Its trajectory knocked over a storage locker and revealed a third batarian.  Shepard and Laine were quick to take advantage. 

“Varren!” Laine called as the animal charged down the center.  Alenko hoisted it into the air while Shepard poked it full of holes. 

They advanced into the room as the last of the initial wave of defenders died.  There was a click and a whir from port.  Shepard dove behind a pillar just as it opened fire.  “They’ve got drone turrets!”

“Shielded!” Laine confirmed as his shots bounced off the flying tripod. 

Shepard saw Alenko wedge his pistol under his arm and activate his omni-tool.  She shot a second varren as it came around the corner before it could close on his position, buying him time.  There were a few loud pops in rapid succession, like firecrackers, and Alenko announced, “Shield generators offline.”

Laine landed a well-aimed shot straight at the turret’s power supply and it exploded with satisfying finality and more shrapnel than was desired in an enclosed space.  He let out a whoop.

Not to be outdone, Shepard sighted on the crest of a batarian just visible above the surface of a desk and fired, moving her aim smoothly down and continuing to shoot through the modesty panel to his body.  The figure fell back and did not rise.

Eventually, the fight was over.  They stood in the smoking remnants of a control building-turned-warehouse and took in their handiwork.  Laine dusted off his armor.  “Didn’t tell me your Lt. Marine Detail Commander was a biotic.”

“He’s standing right here, you know,” Shepard said crossly, though Alenko couldn’t have looked less interested in the conversation.  He was sifting through the contents of a desk.  “And the fight would’ve gone a lot slower without him.”

“It’s alright.  Leaves more for me when he doesn’t do any actual fighting.”  Laine flashed her a grin.  “I figure I got six.  You?”

“I don’t do kill counts,” Shepard replied smoothly, even as her brain said, _Six, seven if you count the one of yours I shot just to be sure_ , just the answer she would have given a few years back _._   It crossed her mind to wonder if her real problem with Rag was sometime over the last decade, she’d grown up, and he was still waiting.

He turned to Alenko and rolled his eyes, put out.  “She used to be fun, if you can believe that.”

Alenko regarded him evenly.  “They were using this facility for storage, while they cruised to Terra Nova.  I’ve got inventory logs.  Nothing interesting.”

“We’re looking for a control panel,” Shepard said, ignoring Laine.  “Spread out.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”  Laine snapped off a lazy two-finger salute and sauntered off.

Shepard removed her helmet and folded it away, running her hand over her hair.  Alenko copied the gesture and looked around.  “Ten years in the navy and I haven’t seen this many triple-tapped corpses all together.  N7 may be fifty percent assholes based on recent observations, but they sure train you guys well.”

“I’m sorry.  He’s used to people who enjoy these stupid posturing games.”

“I can’t say I care much what Commander Laine thinks of me, but you have to stop letting him bait you like this.” 

“I know.  He just… I’ve known him a long time.”  She shook her head and looked after Laine, darkly.  “He’s pissed at me, he knows every button to push, and if I don’t respond, he’ll only escalate in other ways.”

“He’ll start pushing the ones that really sting,” Alenko said, a rather more pertinent observation than she preferred.  “You don’t tolerate this kind of disrespect from anyone.  What is he holding back that could worry you like this?”

_You were hoping to avoid it, but it’s going to come out_ , her thoughts whispered, matter-of-fact.  _Rag will make certain of that.  Better to beat him to it._   She licked her lips.  “Kaidan, about the other mission- it wasn’t just the deaths-“

“Bo, I got something,” Laine called, leaning over an upper balcony.

Alenko raised an eyebrow at her.  She shook her head.  “We have work to do.”

They walked up a ramp and found Laine in a small back room, outfitted with a table and a handful of storage lockers.  The far wall was entirely occupied by a large control terminal flashing with hundreds of status lights.  Its surface was plastered with brightly-colored stickers warning of the safety consequences of improper procedures.  The roar of the plasma torch was a mechanical vibration shuddering down through the wall and into this console, ever-so-slightly blurring the text of the screen. 

“Torch control terminal?” she asked.

Alenko approached the machine.  “Looks like it.  Problem is, we can’t just shut it down and leave it.”

Laine shrugged.  “Why not?”

Shepard sighed.  “Because we don’t have anyone to guard it.  Balak could send another team to turn it back on.  I really wish I had three Makos right now.”

He tilted his head and folded his arms.  “Split into teams and hit all the torches at once?”

“I swear, the next ship I command, I’m requisitioning enough ground transport for half the crew.”  She joined Alenko at the terminal.  “We need to find a way to lock them out.  Change the access codes after we’re done, maybe.”

“We can do that, I think.”  He tapped in Simon’s code and showed her the menu.  “These systems aren’t designed for military security, just to keep idiots and malcontents from messing around.”

“Good.  Shut it down.”  Shepard took out her breather helmet and began to fasten it back into place.  “One down, two to go.”

“Just a minute, ma’am.  Something’s odd here.”  He parsed the menu.  “The message light’s blinking.”

“See what it says.”

Alenko tapped the icon.  The speakers crackled.  A woman’s voice, hushed and frightened.  “Are you there?  Can anyone hear me?”

Laine grew interested for the first time since entering the room.  “Hey, that sounds like the girl from the first transmission.”

Shepard leaned forward and pressed the reply function.  “This is Commander Shepard, Systems Alliance.  Who are you?”

“My name is Kate Bowman.”  She was speaking as quietly as possible, so much so that it was difficult to make out each word.  “The batarians rounded up everyone at the main facility and they’re holding us hostage.  You’ve got to get those torches shut down.”

“We’re working on it.”  Shepard wasn’t going to disclose their progress on this line.  “How are you contacting us if they’re watching you?”

“They’ve got guards outside the door.  They haven’t checked on us in forty-five minutes or so.”

Taking hostages didn’t make any sense, if cratering Terra Nova was Balak’s plan.  They needed answers.  “What are they doing?  Have they made any demands?”

“No.  I don’t know.  They don’t seem to want anything.”

“They’re an insurance policy,” Laine said suddenly.

“Against what?”  Shepard was at a loss.

“People like you.  The kind who think they can storm the castle _and_ save the girl, and won’t accept any other outcome.  All he has to do is force you to run out the clock.”

“I have to go,” Kate hissed.  “I can hear them at the door- I need to-“

Shepard leaned into the console.  “Kate?”

There was no reply.  Shepard dashed her hand against the console.  “Damn it!”

Alenko touched her shoulder.  “She’s playing it safe.  She’ll be alright.”

Laine crossed his arms.  “She shouldn’t be playing on the damn comm.  She’s either going to get the hostages killed, or she’s a trap to distract us from our objective.”

Shepard knew he was correct, but it didn’t stop her from offering a frigid glare as she brushed past.  “She’s a civilian.  She doesn’t know what the hell to do.”

She stalked back towards the Mako, securing her helmet as she went.  Laine watched her go, a muscle clenching in his jaw.  Alenko took that in, shook his head, and started to go.

As he reached the hatch, Laine said, “You shouldn’t try to pass off that sunshine and rainbows crap to her.  She’s a pragmatist.  She knows better.”

“She wishes she didn’t,” he said.  “And seeing as you’re such good friends and have so much history, sir, you might have noticed this isn’t like every other mission.  Maybe if you did, she wouldn’t despise you quite so much.”

Laine blinked, actually taken aback.  “She doesn’t despise me.”

“Whatever you say, sir.”  Alenko left the room, and they returned to the Mako, where Shepard was already waiting with marked impatience, her eyes fixed on the clock.

It took another half hour to reach Torch 3.  Shepard elected to save Torch 2, the one surrounded by mines, for last, though it cost them in travel time.  Two torches disabled would make a bigger difference to the asteroid’s path than one and buy them some leeway to deal with the most problematic torch.  They parked by the door, noting the crawlers scattered to either side, and opened the hatch to another slew of batarian defenders.  Working together, they shut down the resistance just as swiftly as before.  Balak’s crew was not well-trained.

“Looks like the same layout.”  Laine adjusted his utility belt.  “Want to bet the torch controls are in the same location?”

However, Shepard was unsatisfied.  She removed her helmet and prodded the remains of one assailant with her booted toe, dumbfounded.  “I don’t get it.  Where are all of Simon’s workers?”

Alenko set down a datapad he’d found on the floor and asked, rather airily, “I don’t know, Commander Peep, where have all the workers wandered off?”

Her sidelong look as they made their way up the ramp could have withered cactus.  “You’ve been holding that one in for hours, haven’t you.”

“I don’t know what the sheep you’re talking about.”

She glowered.  “I will have you scrubbing toilets until the end of time if you ever bring this up again.”

He considered.  “Could be worth it.”

They arrived at the control room.  It was messier than the last, with open containers of food littering the tabletop and shelves crammed with spare gear piled high above the storage lockers.  Laine complained as he tagged open the hatch.  “So he gets to poke fun at you, but every time I try, you jump down my throat.  That’s fair.”

Her patience, slowly stretched over the last twenty-four hours, finally snapped.  Shepard wheeled on Laine.  “Maybe you should have thought about that before you put two rounds into our commanding officer’s head.”

The room rang with abrupt silence.  The blood drained from Laine’s face.  He swallowed, licked his lips.  “I wasn’t in my right mind.  I was hungry.  Half a meal a day for four goddamn weeks-”

“We were _all hungry_ , Rag,” she replied, brittle.  “And somehow the rest of us managed to avoid committing murder over an MRE.  How the fuck could you think we could be friends after that?  What the hell is wrong with you?”

He stammered a bit.  “I thought after your report when we got home-“

“I covered for you with the navy because there was no way to cover the rest of it without saving your ass in the bargain.  None of us ever wanted to discuss what happened after Chahine was dead.”  A bitter taste filled her mouth.  She moved towards the control terminal.  “Don’t think I wanted to spare you.  Don’t think I’ve forgotten how criminally selfish you are.”

“Selfish?”  Anger was rapidly replacing shock.  He jabbed his finger at her.  “That screw up saved all of our lives.”

That Shepard summarily ignored, striking the haptic keys with such force that they failed to register more often than not. 

Alenko tried to head off the argument by offering assistance and a change of subject.  He moved up beside her.  “You need to hit the valve icon, there, it takes you right to the torch controls.”

Laine, however, continued to rant, with defensive fury greatly exceeding any common sense.  “Wasn’t even much of a dodge- you told the brass the captain died of injuries sustained during the mission and that we gave her a proper space burial, which is entirely true.  What was left of her, anyway.”

Shepard went rigid at the terminal.  Even her mind felt frozen, stuck on that tiny ship, in the dark and the cold, doing what was needed, in all its gruesome detail.  Rag was right.  They had been hungry.  She hadn’t allowed anyone else to help with the work of it.  Ordered them out of the corvette’s common room.  She spared Chahine that final indignity, however slight. 

The moment was poised on the edge of a cliff so tall Shepard couldn’t see the bottom, the one she’d been avoiding for the last twelve months.  All it would take was another careless word to push her over.  Her stomach was an acid knot.  All she wanted was to make it end, give the order, raise her fists, anything but stand here, a useless, spineless ragdoll snared by inability to overcome one lousy memory that wouldn’t go away. 

_Please_ , she silently begged the universe, _make him stop._

At that moment, one of the groaning shelves parted ways with the wall and spilled a heavy host of spare parts onto Laine’s head.  He ducked and covered his skull with his hands reflexively.  “Ow!  What the hell?”

Color returned to her world.  She found she could take a breath.

“Guess the fasteners finally gave out under all that gear,” Alenko said.  He made no move to assist Laine.

A confirmation message blinked up at her from the terminal.  She punched _yes_ and felt the torch high above their heads shudder and die.  Another breath.  Her lungs felt absolutely ragged.  “Two down.  Move out.”

They climbed in the Mako.  Alenko put the coordinates of the last torch on the nav system.  Shepard turned the tank towards the next valley.  Driving always soothed her mind, but the quiet worked against it now, replaying the conversation with increasing unease.  She hadn’t felt like that since the first weeks after they got home.  It worried her that Laine could evoke that again after only a few days’ provocation.  It worried her that Kaidan hadn’t said anything about her reaction.  He had to notice. 

The dead landscape of X57 offered no reply.

After a while, Laine spoke, tentative.  “Bo, I’m sorry.  I don’t-“

The officer in her finally found her tongue.  It was about time.  Any naïve, wistful thought that they might be able to salvage something of their friendship was completely dispelled.  “Commander Laine, I am ordering you to restrict all communications to mission-critical information.”

“What kind of crap is-”

“I’ve asked politely more than once and you haven’t gotten the message,” she snapped.  “Let’s see if the threat of an insubordination charge will do the trick.”

He snorted.  “You’re bluffing.”

“You’ve heard me bluff.  Is this what it sounds like?”

He closed his mouth.  His anger was obvious, but her shield of calm had returned, however tentative, and she didn’t care. 

“Incoming transmission,” Alenko announced after a moment.  “It’s routed through the _Normandy_.  Probably Garrus.”

She glanced at the radio.  “Put it through.”

The turian’s voice filled the cabin.  “We’ve secured the ships.  No casualties on our end.  About twenty dead batarians.”

“Are the ships grounded yet?” Shepard asked.

“Negative.  Tali’s working on it now.  But there’s another problem.”

She groaned.  “Naturally.”

“I don’t know what to do with all the noncombatants.”

Certain she hadn’t heard that right, she asked, “Say again, Garrus?”

“The non-combatants.  About a dozen humans and half as many batarians they brought along for the more dangerous and tedious jobs aboard ship,” he explained with palpable disgust. 

The other shoe dropped.  “They’re slaves?”

“Yes.”  He paused.  “The batarians are sullen but… present.  We’re keeping an eye on them.  The humans…”  Garrus trailed off, unusual for him.  He cleared his throat.  “If you tell them to do something, they come alive, like dolls, but after they’re finished, they go back to staring at the walls.  And they’ve all got these ugly scars on their necks.  It’s the damnedest thing.”

Behind her, Laine was muttering curses.  Unlike Shepard, he had been at Torfan.  Alenko stared at his instruments.  Shepard kept driving, the muscles of her neck taut.  “Control rods.  They’re from implanting control rods.  My mother told me it’s what the slavers did to the people taken from Mindoir.”

There was a long pause.  Garrus was both disgusted and chagrined.  “The turians haven’t tangled with the batarians since humans arrived on the scene, before my time.  And even then they weren’t so bold.  I guess they were afraid of us, or the Council.  We thought you humans were barbarians with the way you dealt with them.”

“One good turn deserves another,” Shepard said.

“Indeed.”  A grim satisfaction haunted Garrus’ tone, the irony of her reply perhaps a bit lost upon him. 

“Keep them in a room somewhere, separated.  We’ll ask Command what to do about them once this is over.”  She couldn’t think of a better plan.

“Roger that.  How’s it coming on your end?”

“Getting close.  I’ll contact you to regroup when it’s done.  Shepard out.”

No sooner had she terminated the call than Alenko got her attention.  “Shepard, there’s something on the scanners.  Looks like a prefab field habitat.”

“Where?”

“Just ahead.”  He sent the map holo across the dash.

Shepard glanced down at it.  “Got it.”

“We’re stopping?” Laine asked, surprised.

She nodded.  “It could be one of Simon’s people.  We still don’t have a good force estimate.  Don’t worry, we won’t stay long.”

The factory-made trailer rested lightly on the dust.  It was a common type used by many survey and scientific teams the galaxy over, a rugged Baria Frontiers creation.  However, it was immediately apparent that nothing alive remained here.  The windows of the hab were blackened and cracked, remnants of an explosion.

Shepard dropped lightly from the tank and made her way to the ruin, trailed by her team.  Alenko tried to peer through the port.  “What happened here?”

“Don’t know.”  Shepard spotted an instrument package deployed on the ground.  “Their experiments are still running.”

Laine tried the door.  Though the haptic interface to operate the hatch remained online, it refused to open.  The whole hab vibrated as the motor ground away, unable to move the door more than a centimeter or two along its track.  “Stuck.”

He worked his fingers into the gap and tried to pry it open by force.

“Let me try.”  Shepard’s hand barely touched the interface when it slid open.  “Huh.  Guess whatever was blocking it finally gave way.”

Inside, they found the remains of two batarians mingled with that of a human woman.  A char of black ash covered every surface.  Alenko identified the source of the destruction.  “She overloaded the environmental system batteries.  She must have heard them trying to get in.”

“And decided to take them with her,” Shepard said grimly.  She shook her head.  “This is appalling.”

“This is nothing compared to what Terra Nova will look like if they succeed.” 

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Shepard said, yet again, never doubting it for a moment.  Balak was hers.  It was long overdue.  “Let’s go.”

As they crested the ridge, the entirety of the Torch 2 facility site was laid out on the valley below.  Red lights flashed in an irregular arc surrounding the minefield.  Within its perimeter were the signal lights of each individual mine, a quilt of yellow pinpricks, a geometric constellation against the dark of the dust in the shadow of the white-hot torch. 

Shepard’s head throbbed.  She thought she knew tired, and then she became a spectre.  There was no tired like racing against time while injured and confronting some of the worst of her past.  Her eyes found the clock- one hour remaining.  Or put another way, ship’s time was approaching five in the morning. 

Shepard expelled the word as a breath.  “Shit.”

Laine leaned forward to get a better look.  “Why does anyone need that many explosives?”

“Clearly, it was going to be a doughnut-shaped spaceport, and this is the hole in the middle,” she said dully.

Alenko, too, raised himself a bit in his seat to take in the view.  “We need to get closer before we can figure out what to do.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks.”  Shepard started forward again.  “We’re screwed if it is, anyway.”

The Mako rambled down into the valley, right up to the warning line, and the three marines climbed out.  The hatch to the control facility looked impossibly far away across the sea of yellow lights.  Shepard rubbed her helmet. 

Laine hooked his thumbs through his belt.  “Could we drive the Mako across on autopilot?  Clear a path?”

Shepard considered.  “It might survive the first two hits, maybe as many as four.  There’s a lot more than four between us and safety.  And we need the tank to get back to the main facility afterwards.”

“Fire into the field, then, with the cannon.”

“No.  We might set them all off accidentally.”  She glanced at Alenko.  “Can you clear them out?”

“Biotically?  No.  Wouldn’t even know where to start.”  He shook his head.  “Maybe I could find the firing frequency, but you’d have the same problem of controlling which ones detonate.”

Shepard turned her eyes back to the minefield with a sigh.  There was a precise geometry to how the mines had been laid; the engineers, at any rate, knew what they intended to accomplish though Shepard lacked the skill to read their pattern.  A thought struck her.  “The batarians got through somehow, to ignite the torch.”

She started running down the line, as fast as she dared in the low gravity.  Confused, Alenko and Laine trailed behind.  She drifted to a stop at about twenty degrees off line-of-sight from the door.  “There.”

Alenko’s brow furrowed.  “What?”

“The gap in the lights.  You see it?”  She pointed.

Laine blinked.  “And there’s another beyond it.  The batarians set them off to clear a path?  How?”

“Who cares?  We can follow it in.”  She crossed through the red warning lights and began picking her way to the hatch, trying to match caution with haste.

It was nerve-wracking.  Not all of the safe patches were obvious to the eye, and in the middle of the field, not every active mine was clear either.  A near-miss almost tossed Alenko into the sky.  She managed to snag his ankle just in time and was nearly lifted from her feet herself.  She hauled him back to ground with a grunt.

He sucked in a breath.  “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”  She got to her feet, dusting off her suit.  “We’re nearly there.”

At the hatch, they found the control switch for the mines.  Shepard switched it off with a sense of relief.  The alert lights winked out. 

The hatch, however, hung partially open, atmosphere vented to space.  They fell silent as they stepped inside.  There was no batarian resistance awaiting their arrival.  There was, however, the remains of the staff. 

The painted metal floor of the largest room was sticky with blood.  Corpses lay tumbled here and there, wounded by bullets and bite marks alike.  Those who weren’t wounded showed clear signs of vacuum exposure.  The scene was only too easy to read.  “The staff at the other facilities must have fled to the surface when they heard the invasion over the radio.  Here, they activated the mines and assumed that would protect them.  Hell- maybe that’s why the batarians left after they were finished.  Built-in security.”

Laine shook his head.  “Let’s get this last torch shut off.  Then we’ll have all the time in the world for dealing with the rest of these rats.”

They headed up the ramp to the final control room.  Shutting it down wasn’t any harder.  Shepard was about to go when, once again, the radio lit up.  She hit the button.  “Come in.”

Kate Bowman’s hushed voice spilled into her ears.  “It’s me again.  They’ve started taking people out of the room.”

“Try to stay calm.”  Shepard wished she could reassure her that help was on the way, but for all she knew, Balak was standing over her shoulder taking in every word.  “Who’s in there with you?”

“People from work.  Engineers, miners.  Security staff- my brother.”  Her breath was heavy as she crowded close to the comm.  “The marines, too, at first, the ones sent up from Terra Nova-“

She stuck on the qualifier.  _At first._ “Kate, are any of the marines still alive?”

“No.”  Kate’s voice wavered.  “After we were taken hostage, the Alliance contacted them for a check-in.  Balak ordered them to affirm no suspicious activity.  They refused.  So he shot them, one by one.  But the very last, she- she just looked up at him and told him to get it over with.  It was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.  I- I turned on the comm when they left us in here and started looking for help.  I didn’t want it to be for nothing.”

Shepard let out a long breath.  They hoped, of course, when they deployed the reconnaissance force following Laine’s panicked revelation, that they would radio confirmation of a batarian landing.  However, they all knew this outcome was just as likely- the alert presenting as a failure to respond, the only asteroid to do so out of the fifty under surveillance.  “Kate, you need to get off the comm.”

“Wait.  You have to hurry.  Those people he took?  He forced them to open the munitions locker.  The batarians are setting charges all around this area.  I think he knows who you are.  He’s so angry-“

Another voice came on the transmission, deeper, demanding.  Shepard recognized the strong batarian accent though he spoke crude English.  “Get away from there!”

Kate cried out.  “Don’t shoot- please- no-“

The radio whined and crackled.  The batarian spoke again, his voice closer this time, clearer.  “Who is this?”

Shepard closed her eyes and forced herself to stay silent, against every clamoring instinct that she had.  If they were going to kill Kate, nothing she said would change that.  All it would do was give away critical intel for nothing.

The voice changed yet again, as if the speaker were looking away from the mic.  “Who’s shutting down the torches?  Is it Shepard?”

There was no reply.  Shepard distinctly heard the quiet mechanical click and electronic beep of a pistol unfolding.  A second batarian said, “We won’t ask again.”

There was a long, silent pause, and a single shot.  The transmission died. 

Batarian brutality wasn’t a novel concept to any of the three marines in that room.  But the Systems Alliance had been undisturbed for five years following the show-down at Torfan, free of state-sponsored batarian terrorism and “cultural” slave runs alike.  Up until Saren’s attack on Eden Prime, there were only small raids from the Terminus Systems to threaten their peace.  To see it start anew, now, in such intimate circumstances, was sickening.

They weren’t given much time to dwell on the execution.  From the room below came the sound of a hatch sliding open.  Shepard strode to the balcony, without a care for stealth, fully prepared to kill whatever was below.  She wanted it.  Under different conditions, it might have worried her just how much she wanted it, but for now, there was only the determination and the desire.  She was vaguely aware of Laine and Alenko scrambling after her.

A pink-skinned batarian with red markings on his crest patrolled below, flanked by four henchmen.  Shepard opened a general communications channel.

“Hey!” she yelled.  Keeping to English herself, though ten years of war and secret ops had made her fluent in Dherak.  She wouldn’t pay him that kind of courtesy.

He started, and peered up at the balcony, into the muzzle of Shepard’s rifle.  Not speaking her language.  “We can do this the hard way, or we can end this peacefully.”

“Fuck your peace.”

He sighed.  “Look, this isn’t what I signed up for.  Balak promised me a cut of a small slave grab he was planning if I added my men to his forces.  Business between old friends, a reminder of better times for our people.  I didn’t know he was planning this.”

“Like that isn’t reason enough.”  She spotted something out of the corner of her eye, and on a whim, drew her pistol and took aim.  The shot streaked through the air like a miniature comet, burning brightly.

The batarian started to laugh.  “Not even close.  I thought you were supposed to be good.”

In the midst of his laughter, he drowned out the faint hiss of gas. 

She smiled.  “I wasn’t aiming for you.”

The second shot’s modified round struck the pipe anew and its jacket of fire sparked against the leak.  The explosion ripped through the room, smashed Shepard and her team back against the far wall and made a mangle of the thin sheet metal barricade flanking the balcony.  There wasn’t even time for the batarians below to scream before the fireball engulfed them.  It took the human corpses below as well, cleansing away the blood and odor.

A few moments later, the white flash faded and her vision began to return.  Her skull was a solid band of pain, centered on her fracture, and the situation was not helped by the ringing in her ears.  From the look of things, her team was experiencing similar problems.  The balcony shuddered alarmingly as she got to her feet and made for the ramp.

Not one of her brightest ideas.

A minute longer and her hearing began to clear.  Down below, desks, cabinets, lockers, and crates were tossed like toys.  She glanced at her pistol, smiled, and put it away.  A stupid trick, maybe, but goddamn was it satisfying.

Laine eyed her.  “Were those explosive rounds?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” she said.  “But I ordered it awhile back and finally had a chance to install it while we were scouting for geth.”

Alenko sighed.  She shrugged.  “What?  The Alliance only bans their use against enemy combatants.  Pipes don’t count- or machinery, in the case of the geth.”

He sidestepped the comment.  “We should get this debris cleared from the hatch.”

They began the tedious work of clearing a path back outside.  None of it was especially heavy, but it was all twisted and jammed together.  Laine jerked on a desk that refused to budge.  “Ugh, this one weighs a ton.  Can I get a hand here?”

Alenko ambled over and pulled.  It came loose of the pile without much effort.  Laine stared. 

“Maybe you pulled your back trying to yank open the hatch earlier?” Alenko suggested, nothing but perfect concern in his tone. 

A little too perfect.  A sneaking suspicion entered Shepard’s mind.  She concentrated on levering a crate out of place so neither man could see her face through the helmet mask.

“I don’t think so,” Laine said, bewildered.

Shepard straightened and dusted off her hands.  “That should do it.  Now, we go get Balak.”

Laine grinned.  “The grand finale.  Finally.”

He stepped through the tunnel in the debris and out the hatch.  Shepard grabbed Alenko’s arm as he made to follow.  He raised an eyebrow at her.

She leaned in until her helmet was touching his, transmitting the sound of her voice off the comm.  “Look, not that this isn’t hilarious, but save it for back on the ship.”

“Save what, ma’am?” he deadpanned.

“Come on.  The shelf, the hatch, the desk just now.  That was you, right?”  Her mouth quirked.  “The jig is up, Lieutenant.”

“Gosh, ma’am, I’d never do anything like that.  Especially not after he’s spent this whole trip trying to upset you and endangering the mission in the process.”

“Of course not.”  She snorted and stepped back.  “Back to the Mako.  Move out.”

The first thing she did upon sliding back into the tank was radio Garrus.  “Are those ships disabled yet?”

The comm crackled a bit.  “All done here.  Nobody’s leaving without hours of work, or so Tali says.”

Tali’s voice murmured in the background, presumably agreement.  Shepard reversed the Mako, orienting it towards their final destination.  “Good.  Leave Wrex and Tali with the noncombatants and regroup with us back at the main facility.  We’ve got a little clean-up to do.”

“Roger that.  Coming back in.”

He was waiting for them when they rolled up.  Shepard was gratified to see at least one dead batarian hanging out of the disabled crawler.  Garrus grinned as they hopped down to the surface.  “We watched the torches go out.  Balak’s goons were going crazy over the comm.  I don’t think they were expecting you to get anywhere.”

Her sense of satisfaction grew.  “I have to be honest- when we find them, I hope they fight.”

“You may get your wish.  None of the ones we’ve met were interested in reconciliation.”

“We met one who was interested in allowing us to stop the attack on Terra Nova provided we let him skidaddle off this rock with a hold full of human slaves.”

“Doesn’t quite have the ring of a good offer, does it.”

“No.”  Shepard approached the hatch leading to the subterranean facility and used Simon’s access code to spring it open. 

The elevator slunk several levels underground and deposited them into a sterile metal-lined gerbil tube carved through the rock.  On the way down, Shepard filled in Garrus on recent events.  They had scarcely stepped through the doors when they heard the murmur of a batarian patrol up ahead.  The guards sounded agitated.  Evidently, they had yet to find a way to override the altered control codes for the torches, and with the window to redirect the asteroid closing, Balak was furious. 

Shepard put a finger to her lips and pointed forward.  They eased down the hall on silent feet.  The batarians’ backs were to them.  Shepard and Laine trained and worked together for years, too long for their recent disagreements to override, and in wordless agreement each picked a target, flowed forward, and snapped their necks before they had a chance to even notice the incursion.  The bodies hit the floor with heavy thuds.

He half-smiled at her, tentative.  She found herself returning it without conscious thought, and then dropping it just as quickly.  The ease of working with him, built over years of danger, was undeniably comfortable.  It was when they opened their mouths that things became difficult.

Garrus seemed mildly impressed by the coordinated display.  Alenko, on the other hand, was annoyed.  “Their absence won’t go unnoticed for long.”

“True,” said Laine.  “We need to find Balak ASAP.”

Alenko crossed his arms.  “With due respect, sir, I think our first priority has to be securing the hostages.  If what Kate said about the explosives is accurate they’re in extraordinary danger.”

“Which is why, _Lieutenant_ , we need to disarm Balak as quickly as we can.”

They started to argue, Alenko unmovable, Laine incendiary. Shepard watched for a few moments, all sense of goodwill gone.  Garrus glanced at her with disbelief.  She shook her head.  From a command standpoint, this mission was a fiasco, and as the officer in charge and a willing participant, she owned most of that.  It was an embarrassment.  The only good things she could say was that nobody was dead and it was almost over. 

Shepard took a step towards the pair.  “Enough.”

They were both startled, as though they’d forgotten she was there.  She chose the most expedient solution.  “Commander Laine and I will find Balak.  Alenko and Garrus, locate and secure the hostages away from any ordnance.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Alenko said.

“Maintain radio contact.  There can’t be many of Balak’s team left.  Dismissed.”

Garrus and Alenko turned and started back the way they came, to begin their search.  Shepard massaged her forehead and shut her eyes to rest them, just a moment.  When she opened them again, she caught Laine giving her a look.  “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, averting his gaze.  “It’s not like you to fail to enforce a certain amount of deference from underlings.”

She raked the loose hair off her face, thoroughly annoyed given how Laine himself was one of those underlings, and he’d been nothing but undermining.  “It’s been long months out here, Rag.  We’ve been cut off from most support while running down an enemy possessing every possible advantage.  I don’t know what the _Normandy_ is, but it’s not a normal crew anymore.”

“Ok.”  Laine shrugged.  They started down the hall towards the atrium.

Shepard told herself to leave it at that, but after a minute, she found she couldn’t resist.  “I can’t believe that’s all you have to say about it.”

“You’ve hardly been in command-“

“I’ve been in command plenty of times,” she protested.

“You’ve been a second plenty of times,” he countered.  “There was always someone else, back on the ship if not on the ground with you.  Hell, you were supposed to be _Normandy’s_ X.O. until the whole spectre thing happened.”

“Do you have a point, or are you just picking away at my ego in one more sad attempt to make me crave your approval?”

He ignored the jab.  “You’ve always had this fantasy that you’re an ordinary person with an unusual job.  One of the guys.”

“I can’t believe I actually asked you to explain this.  I don’t know what I expected.”  She shook her head.  “I changed my mind.  I don’t need your bullshit.”

“But you’re not ordinary.  You’ve never been ordinary,” Laine continued as though she hadn’t spoken.  “Your life will never be normal and you’re not one of the guys.  But you think you are.  That’s how you end up with a crew that operates on consensus instead of hierarchy, and that’s why you never got your own command until you tripped into it.”

_Your life will never be normal_.  There it was at last, the one that stung, lashing out at her from the font of nasty reminders that followed Rag wherever he went.  Over the last day, Laine pricked, pulled, and punched.  He used their shared experiences to humiliate and undercut her.  More than once, he caused her to question her ability to perform her job and drove her to shameful conduct, and for no better reason than he was pissed to not have her esteem. 

Until that comment, he hadn’t yet emptied her. 

They walked in silence.

The hallway opened up to a large pressurized chamber hewn from the asteroid and shielded from leakage, radiation, and microimpacts by the thick layer of rock overhead.  It wasn’t very sophisticated; more expensive enterprises used mass effect fields to achieve the same objectives.  It was, however, effective, and it was clear from the moment they stepped inside that X57’s staff made it their home.  Two stories of balconies wrapped the oval room, with twin staircases leading down to the center, one on each end.  An artificial park of towering trees and well-tended flowers flourished beneath the suffuse glow of artificial daylight. 

Shepard took in little of it, pausing at the head of the stair.  She stood there for so long not looking at anything that Laine grew nervous, touching her arm.  “Bo?”

Her voice was quiet, and came from far away.  “Who are you to judge me?  I picked up the torch that was handed to me and I’ve carried it as best I could, when you would have tossed it in the dirt.”

“That’s not true,” he protested.

But she was implacable.  “It is true.  Fuck, Rag, I even had to bail you out on your own operation, right here on this asteroid, and it’s not like it’s the first time.”

“Oh, come on.  We’ve both had each other’s back for-“

“You want to know why I allow Kaidan so much leeway?” she interrupted, completely uninterested in arguing.  “If I’d ordered him to come clean up this mess you made, he would’ve gotten it done, no fuss and no whining.  I trust him because he’s a great officer who doesn’t think he deserves a gold star for doing his job.”

“Kaidan,” he said flatly.  There was a wealth of sudden understanding in the way he said the name.

Shepard cursed herself.  “Go to hell.”

He grabbed her arm as she tried to push past him.  “Do you think he’s going to make you feel better about any of this?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“The kind I ask because I’ve known you ten years and you make the worst romantic decisions I’ve ever seen.  I’m always the one to show up with a tub of ice cream and a fifth in hand after each of your misadventures and I’m fucking tired of it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  We’re not together,” she said, jerking her arm free.  “Besides, I think you learned a lot from those visits.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Like what?”

“For one thing, that a root beer float is infinitely improved by a shot of rum.”

“I’m not messing around here, Nath-“

“Shh.”  She shushed him, raising her rifle.  “Did you hear that?”

The balconies led to a shallow maze of offices, barracks, mess halls, and the other necessities of human habitats.  Unfortunately, between the garden and the warrens, line of sight was nonexistent. 

Shepard headed into the trees.  What the indoor park lacked in size, it made up in density.  The brush was so thick it was difficult to navigate.  The batarians knew it too, and were waiting in the impenetrable cover.

The first and only warning she had was the rustle of branch near her head as something caused it to stir.  She ducked behind a tree.  A second bullet thunked into the trunk.  Shepard showed no hesitation in leaning out and firing blindly along its trajectory and was satisfied to see a hunched form stumble out of the way.

Laine was opposite her, crouched amid the bushes, every sense on alert.  They both jerked their heads up as wood creaked.  Shepard sighed.  “They’re in the trees.”

Which was when one of the lofted batarians flung a grenade at her feet.

It was one of those moments when time seemed to slow down.  She recognized it instantly as a remote

detonation.  The brush was too thick to run away.  The branches above her were too high to reach.  She kicked it with all her might, and by some grace the toe of her boot hooked under the grenade and gave it just enough loft to clear the bushes. 

At the same time, the grenade’s owner reached for his omni-tool and keyed it to ignite.  The resultant mid-air explosion flattened the underbrush in a three meter circle and knocked Shepard off her feet.  The stumble saved her life.  The heavy spray of a shotgun blast tore a section from the trunk above her head.  She looked up and saw Balak’s sneering face peering through the leaves across his gun before he whirled and vanished into the park. 

“He’s here!” she yelled, her blood loud in her ears.

“I saw him,” Laine snarled, returning fire.  A batarian yelped and fell from his perch.

Shepard found a target of her own and dropped him, but her hearing betrayed more hiding, who knew how many.  It was Balak’s last stand with the very last of his followers.  She spied another brightly-crested batarian high in the branches and fired.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Balak’s deep, grating voice boomed through the trees.  English.  Balak wanted to be certain they both took his meaning.  “I remember you.”

His voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.  She spun on the spot.  Laine fired into the shadows.  “Names are cheap.”

“No, they’re quite expensive.  I paid a lot for yours.”  He laughed without humor.  “I’m glad you’re here.  It’s fitting.”

Shepard’s eyes searched the foliage.  “Your grievance is with us, not a civilian colony.”

“Oh, how quickly we forget.”  Balak made a tsking sound.  A blast from his shotgun took out the branch over her head, forcing her to duck.  “All targets are military targets.  The Alliance taught us that.  How many civilians died in Bash’bat?  How many navy personnel are hiding among your civilians down below?”

The shot and the diatribe gave Shepard’s eyes an area to search.  “Come out, and we’ll deal with this personally, the way it should be done.”

The comm crackled to life in her ear.  Alenko.  “Two patrols down.  We found the hostages.  This whole quartile is rigged to blow.”

“Roger.  Stay on it,” she hissed, hoping it was too low to hear, hoping the batarians hadn’t broken their encryptions. 

“Kate’s brother is dead.  They shot him to try to make her talk.”

The flash of anger at the news sent her concentration into overdrive.  She spotted the hint of sallow yellow behind a far tree, an unusual color even amongst batarians and peculiar to Balak.  She fired and was rewarded with a groan of pain. 

However, it also exposed her own position.  She was forced flat to the ground as a hail of gunfire erupted overhead.  She peered at Laine from beneath the arm covering her skull.  “We need to drive them out of here.”

He was doing his best to return fire, but their targets remained stubbornly elusive.  “How?”

The smoking patch ruined by the grenade blast gave her an idea.  “Give me your grenades and cover me.”

He was dubious, but there was no time to argue.  He forked over the four he carried and crouched beside her as she worked.  She whipped off her utility belt and clipped them alongside her own, rigging them all together.  Laine eyed the contraption.  “What craziness are you plotting now?”

“Stand clear and be ready to move.”  Shepard wrapped it around the nearest tree, as high up as she could reach, tangled in with the lowest of the branches.  A bullet struck her shields.  She gritted her teeth.  “That should do it.  Go!”

They retreated, firing as they went, until they were nearly clear of the park.  Shepard drew her pistol and shot at the now distant package, relying on her explosive mod.  It took a few hits, but she was soon rewarded with a flash of fire and a sharp crack as the tree split.  Smoke from the burning wood spiraled towards the ceiling.

“One tree won’t be enough to bother them,” Laine observed, skeptically.  As well-tended as the park was, the fire was unlikely to spread.

“Wait for it.”  Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, well above the smoke, urging it upward.  “Come on…”

The gray tendrils brushed lazily against the roof.  The batarians took advantage of their lack of cover.  Laine fired back one-handed while he tugged at her arm.  “Bo, we have to get out of here!”

“Now,” she said, and suddenly gobs of foul-smelling foam were gushing from the ceiling to the park below. 

A chorus of yells started as it covered the trees and shrubs.  The stuff was truly noxious, even at a relative distance; so close, and with their many eyes and nostrils to irritate, it was hell on the batarians.  They began stumbling from the park wiping at their faces. Shepard smiled.  “Stations don’t waste water on fire suppression.”

“Fun fact of the day.”  Laine tugged at her arm again.  “Come on.  The stairs-“

They ran, sliding a bit here and there on puddles of deflating foam, shooting the half-blind batarians wherever they crossed paths.  The pair split at the stairwell, Shepard taking the upper balcony while Laine circled the lower.  That they were searching for Balak went without saying.  He was the lynchpin to this entire operation. 

So it was also unsurprising that when they did find him, he was attempting to flee towards the elevator, alongside two of his comrades, and bleeding heavily from one shoulder.  Laine fired a shot that went wide.  “Stop!”

They pushed onward, until Shepard appeared at the top of the stairwell, her weapon likewise raised.  “It’s over, Balak.”

He spat.  “Predictable.  Typical human trouble.”

The barrel of her rifle never wavered.  “I’m just getting started.”

The comm buried in her ear came to life again.  Alenko sounded anxious.  “We’ve dismantled several of the bombs, but the one with the hostages is wired to the door.  This could take a while.”

She couldn’t respond directly.  But her discussion here with Balak grew loud, their voices carried, and the hostages weren’t far.

Balak, oblivious, snorted his contempt.  “This is over.  Either I leave, or I blow these charges and your inept informant and the rest of the hostages die.”

“You know I can’t let you do that, not after what you’ve done.” 

“What I’ve done?”  His eyes bulged.  He turned sideways, to take in both Shepard and Laine at once.  “You humans think you’re so noble.  You think you can use your strength and cunning to control us.  We learned these tactics from _you_.”

Laine wasn’t having it.  “We never destroyed any of your colonies.  Not like this.”

“No.  You’ve done worse.”  Balak clutched at his shoulder, which bled freely from the wound Shepard inflicted earlier.  “We’ve been forced into exile.  Forced to survive on table scraps while you- you upstarts, you _infants_ , lap up our portion of the feast.”

It was the worst possible analogy he could have made.  Shepard raised her rifle another fraction.  “Don’t you dare plead innocence, not to me.  You brought this on yourselves.”

“You invaded our space.  You took our resources.  The Council brushed us off, because we’re not pretty and we don’t wear smiling faces while we stab our enemies in the back.”  Balak actually took a step towards her.  Courageous, if unwise.  “We were left to defend ourselves.  But you humans were stronger.  The Council knew it and they still left us to die.”

“Don’t stand there like everyone loved you until we showed up.  The Council wanted you gone long ago.  They were happy to let humans carry the cost in credits and blood.  Maybe if you’d spent more time befriending other races instead of enslaving them-”

“Enough!”  Balak’s eyes flashed wide.  “I won’t be lectured by a feckless assassin on the merits of my culture!  It was you!  You and your kind are the reason we’re standing here today, like this, on this rock.  You’re the reason we have to go to such lengths to get your attention.”

She took a step towards him herself.  “Was that Elysium?  A way to get our attention?  Well, you got it, and once you had it, you ran like cowards, just like you’re doing now.”

He was almost shaking with rage.  She took another step, until they were nearly nose-to-nose, her quiet, mocking tone unchanged.  “Yes, we tried to kill you.  You should have thanked us.  Because if your coup had succeeded and batarians poked one toe over the ceasefire line, the navy would have come surging across it like the wrath of god and obliterated what’s left of your miserable civilization.”

Balak leaned forward, his breath hot on her face.  “If you want the hostages to live, I suggest you step aside.”

Over the radio, Kaidan’s voice said, “Stall him.”

She glanced down at Balak’s hand poised over his omni-tool, and then up, into his eyes, and took a breath.  “If you kill a human colony, Terra Nova or any of the others, you’ll kill the last hope of survival for your people along with it.”

Balak’s fingers flicked against the trigger without any preamble or warning.  The last remaining bomb detonated in a crashing of glass and a ball of fire that engulfed the balcony.  She saw it clearly over Balak’s shoulder.  An instant later, the shockwave struck, causing them all to wobble on their feet.

The suddenness of it stole her breath.  The comm was dead in her ear.

Her wide eyes flashed back to his face and she knew he saw it there, the flicker of fear and grief and pain she was too shocked to suppress, saw him see it in the triumphant smile that broadened his lips just before they parted to speak.  “I hope it was worth it.”

The next thing she knew her fingers were wrapped around his face, thumbs pressing towards the sockets of his eyes, and they went tumbling down the stairs.

She wasn’t aware of her rifle clattering to the floor as she moved.  She was barely aware of the sharp corners of the steps biting into her with bruising force as they fell.  Laine shouted somewhere in the distance.  Balak’s hands were locked about her wrists in a death grip as he tried to push her away, the tips of his fingers digging deep into the webbing and leaving bruises.  His legs thrashed and caught her several solid blows.  But at that moment Shepard was beyond the coercive power of pain and all her attention was focused on this singular task.

They reached the bottom with a final heavy thud.  Shepard was fortunate enough to land on top.  As a disoriented Balak attempted to rise, she flung his head back into floor.  It made a meaty, pulpy sound, and smeared the concrete red.  Blood flowed freely from one eye where her assault was successful.

The remaining three stared up at her, woozy, shocked.  Balak coughed, wetly.  “What-“

Shepard drove her fist into his injured shoulder.  He howled.

There was gunfire from the top of the stairs, and yelling, as Laine dealt with the two remaining batarians.  Belatedly, she realized she’d left him outnumbered, but it seemed he was holding his own. 

In her momentary distraction, Balak reached weakly for his pistol.  Shepard slammed her knee into his hand, feeling several of the bones snap.  He fell back, twitching with pain, and, smoothly, she seized that same pistol off his belt and took aim at Laine’s assailants.  The shot caught a batarian in the leg.  He rolled down the stairs. 

Shepard hauled herself off the prone Balak and went to finish him off.  Three shots, just like in school, chest chest head.  She called up the stairs to Laine.  “You ok?”

“Yes.”  He was breathing heavily.  The second batarian lay dead at his feet.  His gaze strayed to the smoking ruin of the upper balcony.  “Holy shit.”

From behind her came another episode of hacking coughs.  She turned.  Balak managed to pull himself up against the wall.  Blood flecked his lips.  His hand closed over the shoulder wound.  “You humans think you’re so superior.  But you’re no better than us.  I gave you a chance to save them-“

Kaidan and Garrus’ faces flashed through her mind.  Her shot blew a hole the size of a grapefruit out of the concrete beside Balak’s head.  He started, and laughed.  “You’ll have to do-“

She put a bullet through his lung.  He slid down the wall, struggling for breath.  It took longer this time for him to regain his voice.  It was barely intelligible, ragged and hacking.  “One day soon, the human race will pay for what you’ve done.  It’s coming.  You can’t stop it.”

For the first time since Laine’s emergency call, Shepard felt firmly in control of herself.  It didn’t matter what shape that control was taking.  She needed this.  Even if it wouldn’t erase the last year.  Even if it was only a single deluded man. 

Even if it wouldn’t bring Kaidan or Garrus back.

Shepard stepped forward and blew out his other shoulder joint.  Though he had to be expecting it, he still let out a garbled scream as it tore through his flesh. 

Laine came up beside her, glancing between the ruined man and her cold mask, and swallowed.  He touched her shoulder tentatively.  “I think he’s had enough.”

Balak stared up at them with sullen eyes.  “You think killing me will make any kind of difference?  There are thousands more-”

She lowered her aim by a fraction and sent a third shot into his abdomen.  He groaned and folded up like a paper doll. 

Balak wheezed.  “When… when the vids flash… with your colonies in flames… you’ll know the rebellion… has begun.”

Shepard raised Balak’s gun again.  Laine pushed her arm down, alarmed.  “Nathaly, enough already. Look at him.”

“No.”  Balak said.  “Let her kill me.  I’m done waiting.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” she said, the words hard as stones in her mouth. 

“I won’t tell your Alliance anything,” he growled.

Shepard dropped Balak’s pistol on the floor and hauled the injured man over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, deaf to his cries of pain at being so roughly manhandled.  Balak attempted to struggle but no strength remained.  She started up the stairs.  His blood ran down her armor.

Laine was growing nervous now.  “Bo, seriously, think about this-“

“He said he wasn’t going to talk to the navy.  I believe him.  Don’t you?”  She stalked past her fallen rifle and made a sharp turn at the top of the stair, heading into the warren of offices off the atrium.  It didn’t take long to find what she sought- an empty storage room, half filled with boxes, and pitch black. 

Shepard didn’t so much set as hurl Balak into the room.  He coughed like his lungs were trying to flee his body.  She stared down coldly, waiting for him to stop. 

“You can’t do this,” he said, the words more wet garble than language.

“There’s some chance the Alliance will find you before you bleed out.”  Her eyes were distant.  “I hope not.  Goodbye, Balak.”

His angry protests were lost to his injuries as she tagged the hatch shut.  Laine started to speak.  She drew her pistol and shot out the control panel for good measure, essentially locking it out.

“What,” she asked into the silence in the wake of the gun’s report, a question that was not a question, chill and lifeless as the asteroid’s surface.  “You wanted him to pay for what he did.”

Laine didn’t seem to know what to say.  He licked his lips, glanced away.  “We should… we need to look for the bodies.  Of the hostages.”

Shepard holstered the pistol.  It didn’t feel real yet.  It was like something that happened in a bad dream, and she was very familiar with those.  She nodded, dully.  They left the storage room and headed towards the site of the blast.

She was not going to call over the comm for them out of vain hope.  She wasn’t going to give Laine or anyone else the satisfaction of witnessing that, even though her heart cried at her to try.

Her steps grew heavier with every meter.  She split the team, and for what?  Because she was tired of arguing?  Because she wanted to be done quickly?  Because both plans were valid and she couldn’t make a decision?  It was her fault, all of it, even the original mission last year, the one that led them here.  Those orders were shit and she knew it.  Saying so would have taken her off that run.  She should have eaten the insubordination charge and the blow to her career.  Maybe they wouldn’t be here now… maybe they wouldn’t…

She was vaguely aware of Laine’s hand at her elbow, guiding her.  They rounded a corner and suddenly the destruction was front and center.  Her knees turned to water.

In the middle of a blackened circle, beside a ruined wall, a soot-caked Garrus was helping Kaidan sit up.

Laine blurred into the distance as her feet flew forward.  Kaidan was coughing dry and hard as his chest tried to evict a wealth of ash.  Garrus braced him, glancing at her as she approached.  He looked shaken.  “Shepard.”

She expected to find dental records for both of them and was having some difficulty forming proper sentences.  “What?  How?”

“It sounded like negotiations were taking a southward turn.  And we weren’t certain what we were doing with the last explosive.”  Garrus shrugged, with the feigned nonchalance of a man who’d recently seen his life flash before his eyes.  “A barrier seemed like good insurance.  The bomb was bigger than we thought.  Knocked Alenko out cold when it went off, along with our comms.”

Shepard took Kaidan’s weight from him as Garrus hauled them both to their feet, sliding her arm under his shoulders, not caring in the least that he was covered in glass and dust.  He groaned a bit.  “The hostages… I couldn’t…”

“It’s alright,” she answered, glancing at Garrus.  “Are you injured?”

He shook his head.  “Banged up a bit.  He keeps clutching at his head, so I’m guessing another migraine.”

“This… is not… a migraine,” Kaidan choked out, wincing with every word.  “This is a solar storm inside my skull.  Is it ok if I keep my eyes shut?”

“I’ve got you.”

They stumbled forward a few more steps.  He sucked in a breath.  “Is Balak-“

“Balak’s dead,” she said sharply, harsher than she intended, enough to draw a stare from Garrus.  She could feel Laine’s hesitation and overrode that, too, before the sudden ice in her gut could rise to the surface.  “It’s over.  We won.”

“Good,” he said, and slumped against her.  They migrated slowly towards the elevator.

“You’re welcome,” Laine called to their retreating backs with elaborate sarcasm.  “It wasn’t any bother, really.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Aboard the _Normandy_ , Alenko winced and shied away from the bright lights of the med bay exam tables as Shepard gently sat him down.  Chakwas was quick to dim their glow as Shepard explained what happened.  The doctor frowned.  “Have you taken your dose of vylex?”

Alenko shook his head, pain flashing over his face in instant regret of the gesture.  “I doubt I could keep it down.”

Chakwas pursed her lips.  “In the circumstances, I’m going to skip ahead to the intravenous form, and also hang a bag of halidyne.  It might make you a bit woozy.”

He nodded his understanding.  Shepard helped him lie back on the table, and watched as Chakwas expertly located a suitable vein and began the treatment. 

Several beds over, Chief Williams propped herself up on an elbow, peering over the scene.  “Wow.  He’s never had one that bad before.”

“He never tried to fend off a bomb at close range before.”  Some time had passed and Shepard was better able to disguise how truly shaken she was by the incident.  By all rights, Kaidan and Garrus should be dead.  She had to stop herself reaching over to touch his hand just to be sure he was really there. It would not be decorous.

“I recommend quiet,” Chakwas emphasized, drawing the blinds and further dimming the lights.

Ash harrumphed.  “I’m not hanging around in a cave.”

She hauled herself off the table, making a small face as the movement twisted her wounded abdomen, wrapped the blanket around her, and went in search of better accommodations. 

“Is that safe?” Shepard asked.

Chakwas shrugged.  “She’s ready for some mobility.  I’ve been trying to prod her out of bed, but she was so put out at being left behind on this mission that she refused to budge.  Still, I’d best go see to her.  Excuse me.”

The doctor hurried after her wandering patient.  Shepard glanced down at Alenko.  He was visibly relaxing as the drugs did their work.  She bit her lip.  They relayed their success to Alliance Command from the Mako, but Hackett was eager for a full report, her head was throbbing, and she doubted Kaidan wanted company.  “I should leave you alone.”

He caught her hand as she made go.  “No, please.  It’s a good distraction.”

She looked down at her hand in his and felt her cheeks warm.  His head lolled towards her and his eyes opened a fraction.  “Are you ok?”

“Me?”  Shepard blinked.

“You took a serious mental beating out there.”  He shifted his weight, seeking a more comfortable position.  Chakwas’ tables weren’t known for their pillow tops.  “A lot of stuff stirred up.”

Her first instinct was for something flippant, but instead she slumped against the table.  “No, I’m not ok.  I’ve been telling people for ages I’m not ok and nobody seems to believe it.”

“You do tend to say it like a joke.”  He hesitated.  “You ever think of telling someone for real?”

“What the hell am I supposed to say that wouldn’t make it worse?” She looked at the floor.  “This job doesn’t have time for me to get better, anyway.”

“Shepard-“

“Kaidan,” she sighed.  “Trust me, all I need is a long hot shower and a few hours of calm and I’ll be back to normal, if not precisely fine.  I’ve been here before.”

His expression was dubious.  She changed the subject. “You’re one to talk.  What the hell were you thinking, crowding up to that bomb?”

“Trying to save Kate and the others.”  His face slid back towards the ceiling, his eyes closing again.  He folded his hands over his stomach.  “We couldn’t though.  I hate Laine for being right about that.  We had to choose.”

“Well, you’re paying for it, all right.”  His breathing was harsh, forcibly steadied.  Every so often a muscle in his face would twitch.  Every line was drawn taut.  She bit her lip, hesitating, but recalled how nice his fingers had felt against her head on Noveria and tentatively reached forward, massaging his scalp.

She was shocked when he pushed into her hand and let out a deep sigh.  “If you want to keep doing that forever, go right ahead.”

His hair was filthy with soot and sweat, thick as thistles and twice as tangled.  But it was also soft, and by the way he seemed to melt into the bed, she was doing him some good.  She perched on the edge of the bed and let her fingers roam.  “We are in sorry shape.”

“It’s one of those moments where you really hope nobody’s noticed Laine ranks Pressly.”

“Do not give that suggestion any hold on reality.”

“Well-“

“Shh.” She pressed her finger against his lips.  “Not a word.  Otherwise some piece of crap is going to fall from the ceiling, knock us out, and we’ll wake up to a damn mutiny.  That’s just how this day is going.”

He chuckled.  “As you say, ma’am.”

A little time passed before he again shifted on the table.  “At least Balak’s gone, and the colony’s safe.  Not so bad a day.”

Shepard paused by the briefest moment.  “Yeah.  It is.”

The memory of stuffing Balak into the storage room rose like scum on the soup of her scattered thoughts.  It all seemed so clear at the time, but now…

He creaked an eye open, glancing up at her.  “Something wrong?”

“Nothing.  Just tired.”  Her fingertips encountered something flat, smooth, and cool.  She frowned, feeling around the edge of it.  “Kaidan, what-“

His arm flew up and snagged her wrist.  “Don’t touch that.  It’s a real pain to recalibrate.”

It had felt like a small square of metal.  “What is it?”

“Amplifier.”  He let her go.  His words were starting to run together a bit, heavy and tired.  “They designed the implants with an external port for running diagnostics and performing data sweeps, so they didn’t have to cut into us every time it needed a check-up.  A few years after that, they realized auxiliary equipment could make use of it just as easily.”

It seemed like every time she thought she wrapped her head around how biotics worked, she peeled back another layer of ignorance.  “This thing requires a lot of upkeep.”

“Massive,” he agreed.  “But it’s just a machine.  Compared to people, it’s uncomplicated.”

The conversation died down into companionable quiet.  They sat there, in the dark and in the silence, her hands slowly working through his hair, until she realized the drugs had sent him to sleep.

/\/\/\/\/\

It took the _Normandy_ another two days to make it back to Utopia, after refueling and wrapping up the mess on Terra Nova.  Shepard did everything in her power to avoid Laine for much of the flight.  In that regard, it was hardly surprising when Alenko appeared in her stead to see him off.

Which wasn’t to say Laine didn’t express his displeasure.  “Oh, come on, this is just petty.”

Alenko folded his hands behind his back.  “The commander regrets that she and the X.O. are preoccupied with Council paperwork.”

It was somewhat true.  The Council had delivered their initial decision regarding use of the Mu Relay and they were huddled in the comm room teleconferencing with a young man from Alliance legal on the best method to contest it.  But she could have taken five minutes to visit the bridge.

Laine got the message.  There was a nasty edge to his reply.  “She is ungodly stubborn when she whips herself into one of these self-righteous episodes.   There’s no stopping her.  Just like what happened with Balak.”

"What are you talking about?"  Alenko expected a few cheap shots and a certain amount of irritation.  "Balak’s dead."

Laine stared at him, then shook his head with a humorless chuckle, all trace of spite and aggression gone.  "You don't even know this girl, do you."

"And I suppose you're going to enlighten me."  Alenko’s expression soured.

He scratched a finger across the bulkhead, drawing out his thoughts, slowly.  "People deal with shit in different ways.  Nathaly’s always… internalized things.”

“Nobody has a right to make those kinds of assumptions about someone else’s state of mind.”

Laine glanced at the airlock.  "What screwed her up so badly on the Bash’bat mission wasn't the civilian deaths, it wasn't losing Chahine, it wasn't even…”  He trailed off, cleared his throat.  “It was that every day for months she was forced to confront how far she's willing to go to survive and she couldn't run away from it.  That broke something inside her.”

“I have to question the motives of anyone who can watch his friend struggle and mock her instead of trying to help.”  Alenko was like a stone.  “A lot of what happened on X57 is your fault for leaning on her until she snapped.”

He snorted.  “I don't goad her to be cruel.  I goad her because I've loved her a hell of a long time and I know if she can't make peace with the things she’s been forced to do, it'll destroy her.  You haven't watched it happening over the last ten years.  So stop talking like you know something when you don't understand shit about any of this."

Alenko regarded him evenly.  “Have a pleasant flight back to Arcturus.”

“Yeah.”  Laine took himself off, through the airlock to his ship, and Alenko watched the hatch cycle until he was certain he’d gone. 


	41. The Birthday Ball

Liara T’Soni rested her elbows on the countertop and rubbed her forehead.  “Tell me again why we’re going to Arcturus Station?”

She was standing in the mess, cleaning up after breakfast, along with Shepard and Tali.  Shepard sighed.  “This ship singlehandedly saved one of the oldest and largest human colonies.  The Alliance wishes to congratulate us.  It’s a command performance, I couldn’t get out of it.”

“And we’re staying for some kind of… party.”  She handled the word with linguistic tongs.

“Our visit coincides with the thirty-fourth anniversary of the chartering of the Systems Alliance.  Founder’s Day.  It’s tradition for the navy to celebrate.”  Shepard shrugged.  “Since we’re in port anyway, might as well let the crew blow off some steam.”

Liara reached the end of a thought.  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to visit Arcturus.”

“We’ll only be there a few days at most.”

Tali crossed her arms.  “I’m with Liara.  This is the heart of the Alliance.  I doubt a quarian has ever been aboard their station.  Who knows how they will react?”

Liara twisted her hands.  “I can’t imagine Benezia is a popular woman there right now.  If they elected to detain me-“

Shepard was exasperated.  “Nobody is being detained.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time a quarian was arrested for being the wrong species,” Tali added darkly.

“Nobody is being arrested either.”  Shepard eyed the pair of them.  “Some people have been watching too many extranet tabloids.  It’s a space station, not some kind of… military prison camp.”

Tali and Liara exchanged a significant glance.  She rolled her eyes.  “Anyway, nobody’s forcing you to leave the ship.  The party’s navy only.”

“I may take advantage of that,” said Liara.

Tali, however, drew back a bit and rubbed the toe of her boot into the ground.  “Actually, Specialist Tucks from engineering sort of asked me to go with him.  At least I think that’s what he was asking.  His voice squeaked alarmingly.”

“There, you see?”  Shepard packed away the last of the condiments and shut the cabinet.  “You’re going to be just fine.”

Liara eyed Tali askance.  “Nobody invited me.”

“You do keep to yourself,” Tali pointed out.

“No more than you do down by the engines.”

“Who are you going with, Shepard?” Tali asked, a deflection.

“Myself,” Shepard answered crisply.  It wasn’t a subject she wished to explore.  That path was littered with all sorts of uncomfortable questions, like who she might want to invite.  It’d give the navy a whole new set of complaints about her, that was for damn sure.

Tali started suddenly.  “You could take Liara.  Then we could all go- I don’t think Garrus or Wrex care.”

The suggestion caught her off-guard.  It was a moment before she could concoct a graceful excuse.  “I’m sure Liara doesn’t want to be ogled and gossiped over all night, which is exactly what happens when she shows up to something like that with me.”

“Indeed, I do not.”  Liara pushed away from the counter.  There was a distinct chill to her tone.  “I should return to my research.  Excuse me.”

Shepard’s brow furrowed, but before she could ask, Liara disappeared into the med bay.  Noveria was scarcely behind them- maybe the occasional bad mood was to be expected.  Certainly it wasn’t the first time these past few weeks.  She resolved to let it go.

Once Shepard was certain Liara was out of hearing, she lowered her voice, glancing around for other eavesdroppers.  “Not that I want to steal your fun, Tali, but is your date going to interfere with the little project we discussed?”

“Not at all.”  She seemed surprised by the suggestion.  “I’ll set up my program to execute before we leave for the party.  If anything, it’s a great alibi.”

“We’ll be at the station this time tomorrow.  Will you be ready?”

She nodded once, quite sure.  “I’ve been preparing since we first spoke.  You have nothing to worry about.”

Tali’Zorah was about to hack into one of the most secured servers in the Alliance.  Shepard heartily believed she had everything to worry about, but it was beside the point.  There was no safer way to proceed.  “Good.  We’ll let you set up shop, and then we can all forget about it for a few hours until the data’s ready.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard entered the bridge as the _Normandy_ prepared to hurtle down the length of the final mass relay that would deliver them to the Arcturus Stream.  She exchanged a nod with Joker.  “What’s our status?”

“Board is green,” he announced with great satisfaction.  “We are going home.”

“I heard a rumor you grew up on Arcturus.”

“For once the scuttlebutt gets it right.”  His hands danced over the controls, orange holographs flashing beneath his fingers.  “Your quarters are there, too, or so I heard.”

“My stuff is there,” she corrected.  “I don’t know that I’d call it home.  Splitting a two-room flat on base isn’t much.”

Shepard thought about getting her own place, more than once, but space was tight on a station.  Her salary wouldn’t buy much more than a broom closet unless she was willing to take on multiple roommates, and that seemed to defeat the purpose of moving out.  She could barely tolerate the one she already had. 

“Better than what’s waiting for me.”  Joker made a face.  “I’ve got a storage unit and if I really need a bed, I stay with my mom.”

“She has a big place?”

“Nah.  She and my dad split years ago.  My kid sister went with him out to the colonies.  But her old room’s still there, for when she visits, covered in crappy band posters and old stuffed animals.  I can feel their beady little eyes watching me at night.” 

Shepard made her best attempt at a straight face.  He glanced up at her.  “Let me guess.  You never collected stuffed animals, did you ma’am?”

“No, Flight Lieutenant, I can’t say that I did.”

“It’s not great, but it’s free, and I don’t have to split it with some ham-fisted officer who thinks doing cargo runs make him a pilot.”  There was a murmur from the comm.  Joker reached up and toggled a virtual switch.  “Roger that, _Normandy_ locked for final approach.”

They sped towards the relay.  The immense size of it, so dwarfing the frigate that it seemed a planet beside a sun, never ceased to startle Shepard despite hundreds of transits.  A lick of blue lightening reached out from the core, touched their hull, and suddenly they were somewhere else.  She always thought if she watched closely enough this time she might be able to see the magic.  It was hopeless, of course.  The translation was as close to instantaneous as any physical event could be.

They floated from the Arcturus Relay at a rather sedate cruise.  Arrayed before _Normandy’s_ forward ports was the elegant wheel of Arcturus Station.

A silvery-white hoop five kilometers across, the space station spun with stately grace above a hanging mirror reflecting sunlight into the ring, bringing day to its 45,000 residents.  The only rotational station larger than Arcturus was the Citadel itself; though massively larger in scale, the latter was a relic of a people long dead, whereas Arcturus was a triumph of the living.  With the advent of artificial gravity stations built in expensive wheels and cylinders passed out of style.  Shepard had lived on both types, and while the spin-induced mock gravity required a certain amount of adaptation, she found she preferred its mechanical reliability.  Arresting the motion of something the mass of Arcturus Station took considerably more effort than sabotaging a mass effect field generator.

It was surrounded by a halo of darting ships bearing passengers and cargo.  Punctuating the throng were dozens of hollow asteroids mined out to build the station and now used as auxiliary space.  The largest, housing immigration processing for the Systems Alliance, was so busy it had acquired its own bustling, transient fleet.  On the station proper, pressurized bullet trains made toy-like by distance zipped along their tracks around the outside of the wheel, across the four sturdy arms, and down the delicate central spindle that contained most of the critical systems for station function.  Shepard knew, although many did not, that the spindle was also the beating heart of the station comm system that coordinated the many fleets of the navy.  Arcturus was home to Parliament, the naval command center, and the highest court in Alliance space, not to mention the headquarters of numerous corporations eager to maintain close ties with the government.  Without Arcturus, space-faring humanity was lost.

The turians in particular questioned the wisdom of placing their most important government and military functions aboard a relatively fragile station not even located within their home system.  But for a human, it wasn’t hard to guess.  The Arcturus Stream relay was the only relay known to connect to Sol, but it branched out into many other systems as well.  It was the bottleneck.  Any would-be invasion of the cradle of humanity by necessity would pass here first, and Arcturus would be ready, first line of defense and early warning system both.  And out here, in the middle of nowhere, none of the ancient, entrenched, squabbling interests of the homeworld could interfere with the burgeoning multi-world Alliance.

Shepard adored it.  There was no stronger symbol of human freedom and independence in all galactic space.  Much more than Earth, anyway, where she had only lived briefly as a young child, and was as unfamiliar as most alien worlds.

The _Normandy_ flew past the giant shipyards, angling for the navy port in the third quartile of the station.  The frigate settled into the pack of warships festooning the bulkhead like moths, from dreadnoughts to shuttles, and made hard dock while most of the crew crowded the hatch.  Shepard ordered a general leave, excepting the few who would be needed to assist with maintenance procedures and resupply.  Everyone was looking forward to a little R&R.

Their commander was no exception.  Once they cleared the protocols and decontam, hers were the first boots off the ship.  A few keen reporters shouted questions from the end of the docking tube, but she managed to ward them off with stock non-answers referring them back to Alliance Command.  The PR circus could wait for the ceremonies that afternoon.  Right now, she was on shore leave, the first real one since Saren crushed Eden Prime.

It might not be home, per se, but she knew the ins and outs of the station, and her face was less famous here than on the Citadel, where spectres carried more weight.  She was able to slap on her utilities and go for a jog without being disturbed.  On days she found herself in residence, she used to do laps of the entire station, nearly sixteen kilometers a circuit.  Despite months without real practice she was stubbornly convinced the feat remained within her grasp.

Four sections known locally as quartiles divided Arcturus, roughly defined by where the four bracing arms made contact with the ring.  The military span alone was more than three klicks long.  Shepard was just hitting her stride as the utilitarian buildings gave way to shops and homes.   Plain metal walkways became real sidewalks.  Cars flit overhead.  This was hardly the Presidium- nobody trucked in acres of dirt and water to create a terrarium- but here and there, small container gardens flourished under the watchful eyes of the residents.  They paid her no mind as she ran by.  So close to the base, military personnel were a common sight and many military families lived in these neighborhoods. 

She’d forgotten how good it was to really stretch her legs.  Running was an indulgence.  Shepard didn’t understand those who found it a chore.  When all she had to do was concentrate on the cadence of her feet, blood and breath thudding in her ears, life became very simple.  She’d lost track of the number of worn-out shoes since receiving her N7 commendation.  Balak alone had cost her three pairs.

With all the prudence of a careful gardener, judiciously weeding out undesirable seedlings, she steered her thoughts into more comfortable waters.  Complain though she might about time wasted on ceremony, her crew earned the accolades they were scheduled to receive before Parliament that afternoon.  Four million people were alive thanks to their efforts.  Calculations completed after the fact predicted X57 would have cratered near the capital, where the damage would be worst.  This wasn’t a political maneuver.  It was honest gratitude for a victory that cost her quite a lot.  No sour memory would take that from her.  Balak could return to the darkness that spawned him.

The quiet neighborhood streets gave way to the industrial utility of fourth quartile, her least favorite sector of the station.  Here lay the commercial spaceport, warehouses, and those shipping businesses that called Arcturus home.  It stank of the millions of tons of rocks, metals, and less savory materials trucked through to build the station, an unpleasant perfume time could not defeat.  A runner here garnered more attention; it was not a popular route.  But mere stares couldn’t stop her, and the thugs who lurked in the quartile’s shadows sensed it was better to leave this particular target alone.

In comparison, first quartile was ostentatious, garish and flashy as commercial enterprises jostled with high-rise apartments for space.  This “downtown” reinvented itself every few years.  Old buildings went down as new rose to take their place.  It boasted the highest population density on the station and saw billions of credits flow through its businesses annually, and that was before taking account of the stock exchange also housed in this sector.  Shepard dodged shoppers and air cars alike as she proceeded through.  The run was taking longer than she expected, and her feet began to ache.

The buildings grew more ornate as she left the crush of the city behind.  Second quartile was the government sector.  The sprawl worsened every year as the endless agencies required to keep afloat a massive bureaucracy gobbled up offices.  The primary houses of government- Parliamentary Hall, the courthouse, the embassies, and a few others- were done in a style meant to last the ages, with plenty of space to properly display such working monuments, but everywhere else in the sector was built as tightly as safety regulations allowed.  Everybody wanted to be close to power. 

Her calves twinged now as well, as her body’s mute protest ascended upward through her legs, and her lower back was threatening mutiny.  The circuit was ambitious given her sporadic training, but it wasn’t in her nature to admit defeat.  She was determined to return to the military dock if she had to limp the last few klicks.

As her route carried her into Grissom Square, however, fate intervened.  Shepard was forced to a slow walk by the crowds.  Founder’s Day always brought increased tourist traffic, and the skylight above the square was already open to view the military demonstration scheduled for that afternoon, a rare and spectacular view.  The tenuous haze of the large mass effect field containing the station’s atmosphere shimmered over the aperture.  Shepard mistrusted it.  Compared to the solidity of a bulkhead, even a retractable one, it was vulnerable. 

Vendors, too, were out in force, taking advantage of the crowds.  Lunchtime loomed.  Once the scent hit her nose, Shepard found she was starving.  Capitulating, she bought a few slices of pizza, along with a selection of other choice vices hard to come by aboard ship.  The press of overexcited visitors grew tiring, and so she took her loot and made her way into the quieter center of the quartile.  The security checkpoints near Parliament did wonders for thinning the throng.

She sat down on the steps and polished off her food before fishing the brand-new packet out of her pocket.  The last time she saw her mother in person, she made the mistake of lighting up.  Hannah threw her remaining cigarettes in the toilet and told her that modern medicine was no excuse for treating her lungs like a pair of paper towels.  Shepard was still trying to come up with a good rejoinder.

Even for artificial weather it was a nice day.  The temperature and humidity controls were functioning properly and there was even a light breeze, likely caused by the change in thermal conduction that went with operating the skylight.  Shepard in her sweat-stained clothes made quite a sight on the Parliament stair.  She ignored the scandalized glances of well-dressed citizens making their way in and out of the building in favor of concentrating on the feel of the smoke between her lips, and the rare satisfaction of not having anything in particular to do.

So, naturally, she wasn’t left alone for long.  “Excuse me, Commander Shepard?”

She withdrew the cigarette and expelled a cloud of smoke, scanning up the polished shoes, tailored wool suit, and expensive leather briefcase until she found the face of the man addressing her.  “That’s me.”

Stylish suit had a stylish haircut to match, a bit more foppish than she preferred, and a well-trimmed goatee.  He held out a perfectly manicured hand.  “Charles Saracino.  It’s an honor to speak with you.”

Shepard got to her feet, shifting the cigarette to her left hand, suddenly self-conscious of her grimy utilities.  They shook hands.  “You told me your name but I still don’t know who you are.”

“I suppose you have been rather too busy to keep up with Alliance politics.”  He sounded disappointed all the same.  “With the retirement of Ebele Sall, one of the five seats reserved for spacers in Parliament has opened up.  I’m running as the Terra Firma candidate.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.  I’ve been a constituent of Sall’s for years.  Voted for her three times.”

“Then you’re familiar with the, ah, baroque requirements qualifying a citizen to vote as a spacer resident- more than six months a year in space, and not more than a month of it spent in any one settled system.”

“I grew up in space.  I hope you didn’t come over here to bother me with an eighth grade civics lesson.”

Saracino cleared his throat.  “No, Commander, my apologies.  I had hoped-“

She took another drag and blew it out.  “Terra Firma damn near started a riot on the Citadel last week.”

Her days were preoccupied, but she didn’t live in a total news vacuum.  She awaited his response with a measured gaze.

“It was a demonstration, not a riot.”  He produced a winning politician’s smile, reassuring as it was condescending.  “We were protesting the alien appeasers aboard the Citadel who would limit our potential as a species, as we have every Armistice Day for the past twenty-six years.”

“Uh-huh.”  She placed the cigarette back in her mouth.

“The war taught humanity a lesson some would rather forget.”  He straightened a bit.  “If we don’t stand up for ourselves, no one else will.”

Up until then, she was merely disinterested, but with that he crossed the line into offensive.  “Mr. Saracino, I stand up for humanity every day, alongside thousands of other enlisted men and women, often in the face of bullets.  This is the first morning I’ve had off in four months.  Are you seriously going to lecture me on how a bunch of self-entitled weekend warriors with cardboard signs are making a difference?”

He deflected.  “Our core value is that we must stand firm and independent in the face of alien influences, politically, culturally, and if necessary, militarily.  It’s true that some of our members take a harder line than others, but they’re entitled to their opinion.”

“That’s one theory, anyway.” 

“I find it surprising that a freedom-loving officer and spectre would embrace censorship.”

“Who said anything about censorship?”  She tapped off the ash.  “Of course they can express an opinion.  But by providing an uncontested platform for their racist views, you’re tacitly endorsing them.”

“Commander, I assure you, all I want as candidate is what’s best for humanity, same as you.”  He waved the smoke out of his face.  His irritation was beginning to show through the façade.  “I can’t believe someone with such a physically demanding job would smoke.”

“There are healthier alternatives, but as it turns out, being on call 24/7 really limits opportunities to get high,” she said without a trace of shame.  “Nicotine doesn’t impair my ability to make sound decisions.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Ok-“

“Let me take a shot in the dark.”  She pointed the butt towards him.  “You came over here hoping for an endorsement from the first human spectre, with all the implied weight of the military behind it, because you’re small fry and none of the navy brass will take your calls.”

“I can’t deny intentions along those lines,” he said stiffly.

“So, ignoring the fact that it’s completely inappropriate for an active-duty officer to comment on politics, what on earth made you think I’d be a Terra Nova supporter?”

Saracino blinked.  “Well, it’s like you said.  You defend humanity on the battlefield.  We defend humanity through the democratic process.  We’re natural allies.”

“As a spectre, I have a responsibility that encompasses all galactic citizens, not just the ones who look like me.  And don’t you dare tell me I don’t have humanity’s best interests at heart when I’ve been busting my ass to stop these attacks on our colonies with very little public support.”

“The war is exactly what I’m driving at.”  Saracino was exasperated.  “Saren is a turian, and the turians have protected him at every turn, as have their asari allies.”

“I like asari,” Shepard snapped, her mouth running away with her.  “In fact, I’m escorting one to the SAN birthday ball tonight.”

A look of revulsion skimmed his face before practice could bury it.  “I can see we are forced to disagree.  I’m sorry I won’t have your support, Commander.  Good luck with the war.”

“Thank you.”  She crushed the remains of her cigarette beneath the toe of her boot as she watched him go, thoroughly annoyed.  Her grandmother didn’t grow up in a world of aliens, just ordinary human beings who thought her accent and her brown skin entitled them to superiority.  Some people would always fear anything different from themselves.  Zelena made peace with it, and she tried to communicate that lesson to her granddaughter, but it seemed Shepard was still learning all these years later.

And that same unchecked indignation placed her in a small conundrum.  Her loose tongue got her into more trouble than her guns ever did.  Damn it.But nobody could say she wasn’t as good as her word, and Shepard wasn’t about to start now.

She located a taxi stand, a small concession to new priorities, and returned to the _Normandy_.

Liara was in her lab, hunched over a computer terminal with a small frown of concentration. She started as Shepard walked through the hatch.  “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

She bit her lip and prevaricated.  “What are you working on?”

“I’m researching the Mu Relay.”  Liara enlarged the image, a line drawing of the galactic relay system.  “If and when we receive Council approval to use the relay, records indicate it linked to hundreds of destinations.  And those records are very old, even by asari standards- I doubt they’re entirely accurate.”

Shepard crossed her arms.  “I don’t suppose one of them is cleverly named ‘Conduit’ in some obscure Prothean dialect?”

“No.”  Liara chuckled, her hands falling into her lap.  She swiveled on her stool to face Shepard.  “But I doubt Saren has any idea either.  The news reports still show the geth attacking multiple systems, searching for clues.”

“And destroying thousands of homes in the process.”  Shepard let out a breath.  “Where do we get more data? 

“We’ve run short of leads.  Maybe, if we followed the krogan link…  I don’t know, Shepard.”

Or the Cerberus connection, Shepard thought, but she was keeping Tali’s project need-to-know.  Cerberus was obviously tracking Saren’s research, many steps ahead of Alliance intel.  She was cautiously hopeful.  Aloud, she said, “The Mu Relay is in the Terminus Systems.  Wrex used to run with merc groups out that way.  Maybe some of them use it for piracy, or secret transportation.”

“It’s worth trying.”  Liara tilted her head.  “You still haven’t told me why you’re back early.  If anyone deserves a rest from all this, it’s you.”

“I’ll rest when I’m dead.”  It was a feeble response.  She took a breath.  “I… have a favor to ask.”

“Of course.  What is it?”

Shepard twisted her hands, embarrassed.  “I need you to go to the party tonight.  With me.”

That caught her off-guard.  “I thought you didn’t want gossip.  What changed your mind?”

Her intent was to tell the truth, but the belated realization that she’d turned her reclusive friend into political pawn to win a petty argument left her shamed.  Her cheeks flushed.  “Tali was right.  I don’t want you to feel left out, and you’ve been cooped up on this ship for months.  You deserve a break as much as any of us.”

“I… do not know what to say.”  Liara blushed a bit, though she seemed pleased.  “Thank you.”

“You might regret that.  The first half of it’s godawful boring- dinner, speeches, that kind of thing.”

“It does not sound much different from functions hosted by my university.  I’m sure I can manage.”

“You’ll also need something formal to wear.”  As the difficulties mounted, Shepard felt bad about imposing on Liara.  “Look, if it’s too much trouble, I understand.”

Liara rose, smoothing the front of her lab tunic.  “Fortunately, humans and asari are of a size.  It seems I need to go shopping, though I do not know where to start.”

“You’ll want to catch a cab over to first quartile.”  Shepard wasn’t about to try to explain Arcturus’ mass transit to a complete newcomer, not for one excursion.  She glanced at the time.  “And I need to grab a shower and get dressed for this abominable ceremony.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Parliament’s commemoration was every ounce as long-winded and tedious as anticipated.  At least a dozen people wished to make remarks, and they droned on until her head felt full of cotton and her ears began to buzz.  The only way she avoided falling asleep were bone-deep lessons from basic training. 

Because no good deed ever went unpunished in the Systems Alliance, following the formal ceremony was a press conference on the building steps.  The Prime Minister read a prepared statement congratulating the crew of _Normandy_ for their remarkable accomplishment and conveying the gratitude of the colonies before shaking her hand.  It was her first time meeting Minister Shastri, though she met his predecessor after surviving Akuze.  Neither man impressed her much. 

Then he fed her to the press and she was abandoned before the podium, looking out over an ocean of reporters and floating VI cameras.  She cleared her throat and braced herself.  “I’ll take your questions now.”

They surged forward as one body.  Shepard selected one at random.  The woman lowered her hand.  “Commander Shepard, any reaction to Parliament awarding your ship the Palladium Star for heroism on Terra Nova?”

That was a softball.  She folded her hands atop the wood.  “We’re deeply honored.  Every member of the crew has proven time and again that nothing substitutes for commitment, dedication, and loyalty.  I’m privileged to lead such outstanding people.”

The press began to shout again, but the first reporter called above the crowed.  “A follow-up, Commander.  The MP from Terra Nova has stated his intention to nominate you personally for the Star of Terra.  Care to comment?”

_Three shots.  Chest, shoulder, abdomen, all expertly placed and all equally unnecessary.  The sack-like weight of Balak’s body as she pitched him into the storage room like so much old garbage, the satisfaction of leaving him injured in the dark the way he left her ship._

Shepard swallowed.  The Alliance would eventually locate the body even if Balak was dead when they found him.  There wasn’t even the slightest chance they’d award her for that.  “Of course it would be an honor to be nominated, but that decoration is reserved for acts of valor far beyond the call of duty.  What happened on X57 was a textbook mission with extraordinary consequences.  Again, allow me to personally commend the crew for a well-executed job in stressful circumstances.”

The Parliament public relations assistant was attempting to bring order to the press by queuing up another question as soon as Shepard finished.  The new reporter, a young man, raised his voice to be heard.  “Can you comment on the progress of the war?”

“I can’t comment on classified information, but we have Saren on the run.  What we witnessed on Eden Prime, on Feros, is never far from our minds.  We’re pressing Saren and his geth on every front we can find.”

Another hand shot up from the crowd.  “Commander, are you aware that following your remarks on the Citadel some weeks ago the Asari Republics have discussed offering limited economic support to offset the effects of the war?”

Somehow, that bit of news escaped her notice.  A surprisingly warm feeling crept through her.  It was… nice, almost overwhelming, to see anything come out of battering her head against the vast wall of political indifference.  Even if nothing came of the discussions, even if the asari were only looking after their own investments, it was something.  She recovered gracefully.  “I can’t comment on matters of military command or diplomacy, but we’re all in this together.  When the threats are this broad, we’re all one galaxy.”

She pointed to the next reporter.  “Yes?”

“Councilor Sparatus made a scathing remark to Citadel press following last week’s open Council session.  To quote, ‘Giving the humans spectre authority is like handing a child a loaded gun.’  What do you make of his obvious disrespect?”

“Councilor Sparatus has a right to his opinion.”  She leaned against the podium and tilted her head.  “What do you think?”

“I think he’s pissed his spectre started a war.”

Shepard smiled.  “That’s what I think too.”

The PR assistant singled out another reporter, who pushed herself up on her toes to be seen.  “Commander, do you anticipate more batarian attacks in the weeks to come?”

“I do not.  The evidence suggests these terrorists acted alone, without support from broader terror networks or the Hegemony.  However, the Alliance is monitoring the appropriate channels closely.”  She was a bit taken aback by the tone of the questioning.  For once, there was nothing combative or accusatory in the press’ behavior.  The veneer of civility threw her off-balance.

The public relations woman stepped towards the podium.  “That’s all we have time for.  Thank you for your attention.”

As Shepard turned to go, one of the reporters, evidently consumed by enthusiasm, yelled out, “Give ‘em hell, Commander!”

And that was when she realized the difference.  Instead of blame, this was support.  Maybe it was being back on Arcturus or the fact that she just saved a colony, but it didn’t keep the grin from her face as she departed the conference with a final wave to the crowd.

/\/\/\/\/\

By the time the politicos finally cut her loose, Shepard was well behind schedule.  She sped back to the _Normandy_ and bent over the sink, wiping off the vid pancake in favor of something more natural.

Williams was the last crew member left in the restroom, her preparations slowed by her injury.  Chakwas said she was making excellent progress; Shepard only hoped Ash wasn’t pushing herself too hard.  “You alright there, Chief?”

“Just fine, ma’am.  I’d be done already if I didn’t have to keep this dressing dry.  It doesn’t even hurt much anymore.”  She gathered her hair into a tail and arranged it in the mirror.  “Looks like you’re the toast of the town.”

“The talking heads are on my side now.  Next week, something else will happen and things will go back to normal.”

Williams glanced at the commander.  “Something’s been bugging me, ma’am.”

“Great.”  Shepard’s lips twitched with a resigned smile as she fished through her cosmetics bag.  “Let’s hear it.”

“It’s about your dress uniform.”

Shepard glanced down at herself.  It was freshly cleaned and pressed, properly for once, in preparation for the ceremony.  “What about it?”

“Well, I mean- a skirt, ma’am?  Really?  Isn’t that a little… archaic?”

She couldn’t help but laugh.  “You’ve been unhappy with what I say, what I think, and what I do, so I suppose policing my clothes is a natural progression.”

Williams turned pink.  Shepard pulled out her blush compact.  “There’s no mystery here, Ash.  It might be an unusual choice these days, but it’s still on the books for female naval officers.  I like skirts, and I don’t have that many opportunities to wear one.”

She bit her lip and continued fussing with her hair.  Shepard doubted she’d be able to keep her mouth closed, and sure enough, Ash was unable to overcome the temptation to press the point.  “I don’t mean it like that.  It’s just… women fought for centuries to be allowed to do the same things as men, including wear the same clothes.  Skirts aren’t practical for fighting.”

Shepard lowered the brush and gave her a very dry look.  “You think exposing the lower half of my legs inhibits my ability to shoot?”

“You know what I mean!” 

Shepard rolled her eyes.  “Keri Finch wore a skirt.”

Williams was exasperated.  “Who the hell is Keri Finch?”

“Admiral Finch was the first commanding officer of the UNAS navy special operations division.  She played a pivotal role in the Second American Civil War at the turn of the century.”

“Ok, but that was eighty years ago.”  From the way she said it, eighty years might as well have been geologic eons.

“You know, when the Systems Alliance was chartered, they inherited the military traditions of eighteen nations, but predominantly UNAS because they supplied most of the resources in the early days.  Hell, even this ball we’re going to derives from their customs.”  Shepard began applying her lipstick.  “Special forces was one of the last bastions of sex-restricted combat roles and her career broke a lot of ground.  To this day, female N1 candidates are called finches in her honor.”

Ash snorted.  “Yeah, ‘cause that’s not at all sexist.”

She replaced the cap on the tube and thought about how to respond.  “Towards the end of Finch’s life, someone asked her thoughts on sexism, and she replied that women had won the right to do everything in life except behave like women while they did it.”

“I don’t understand.”

Shepard zipped the bag shut and turned towards Ash.  “She was making the point that women don’t need to become men to be equally valuable.  Sometimes it’s as inconsequential as wearing a skirt instead of trousers without making a scene.  Other times it’s deeper, like accepting cooperative leadership as a valid style.”  It was her turn to make a face.  “If I never have another male officer tell me I’m too friendly or lenient with my crew to be an effective leader, it’ll be too soon.”

“People have actually said that to you?”

“I’ve gotten it from Anderson more than once, and a handful of others, most recently Commander Laine.”

Ash was disgusted.  “Laine couldn’t lead his way out of a wet paper bag.”

Her mouth turned up at a corner.  “I know.”

Williams stopped messing with her hair and squared her shoulders, suddenly quite serious.  “Ma’am, I’ve never served under a finer officer than you.”

Shepard stared for a long moment, completely taken aback and rather deeply touched.  “I…  thank you, Chief.”

“I’m sorry I made fun of your skirt.”

“It is kind of hard to run in,” she conceded.  “You got a ride over to the thing?”

Ash shook her head.  Shepard nodded.  “I think everyone else is already there.  You should snag a taxi with us- I just need to round up Liara and we can leave.”

Williams blinked.  “You’re taking _Liara_?” 

“It’s a long story.”  Shepard sighed as they left the restroom.  “She should be waiting-“

They rounded the corner into the crew mess.  Liara was standing outside the med bay windows in a deep blue dress, wringing her hands self-consciously.  Shepard’s mouth dropped open.

“Damn,” Ashley said.

Liara bit her lip.  “I know it’s a bit… low.  I don’t believe human fashion sensibilities agree with me.”

Shepard collected herself.  “No, it’s just… very different from lab scrubs.”

“You don’t think it’s too revealing?” she asked, anxious, tugging at the long skirt.  Twin lengths of fabric flowed down her shoulders, over her breasts, and crossed at her abdomen before settling into a rich drape that fell to her ankles, leaving a tasteful yet tantalizing peek at her bare sides, along with a not immoderate glimpse of cleavage.

“Not at all.  Trust me on this one.”  Shepard offered her arm.  “In that getup, you’re going to give them better things to worry about than being Benezia’s daughter.”

The taxi flew them around the ring, to the fancy hotel the Systems Alliance Navy booked for the purpose.  Nothing on base was quite large or formal enough for the event.  Balls of this kind were taking place on numerous stations and worlds throughout human space tonight, but the one at Arcturus was by far the best attended and most ostentatious.  The Fleet Admiral along with other senior Alliance dignitaries would be in attendance.  Shepard had gone before, though not for several years, and not as a spectre.  Her fervent hope was to be simply left alone to enjoy herself, her patience for politics spent for the day.

A few stragglers were still making their way inside as the trio stepped out of the car.  They found Alenko waiting for them just inside the door. “Where have you been?  Joker’s saving a table for us.”

He took in Liara with faint surprise.  His brow creased.  For Shepard’s part, she had nearly forgotten Liara was there at all.  She gave him a big smile.  “Thanks.  Things at Parliament ran a bit over schedule.”

Alenko returned it with one of his own.  “It’s alright.  We should still have time to get our drinks before they start serving dinner.”

They proceeded across the lobby and down the hall towards the ballroom.  Shepard kept glancing at Alenko, unable to stop herself.  It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him in his dress blues, of course, but those situations were usually stressful- meeting the ambassador, preparing remarks for the Council… 

He caught her peeking and raised his eyebrows.  She didn’t bother to hide the appreciative gleam in her eye.  “You clean up well, Lieutenant.”

Ashley suppressed a snicker.  Alenko ignored it.  “You do alright yourself, ma’am.”

Liara was taking in the other attendees, navy personnel and civilian guests alike.  “I’ve never seen so many humans all dressed up in one place.  Everyone looks so nice.”

Williams wrinkled her nose.  “Wait until you get a load of the younger enlisted and their dates.  It’ll be neon and sparkles for miles.”

“Eighteen-year-olds with an innate sense of class are a rare breed.”  Shepard shrugged.  “Let them have their fun.  They’ll look back at the pictures in a few years groaning.”

“Someone wore her hair out of regulation at her first formal.”

“No, actually, I was nearly bald at my first.  Not going to comment on what my date wore, though.”  Shepard’s hair tonight was in a familiar conch shell braid circling the back of her head, her favorite formal style.  She left it a bit looser than usual, for a softer look, and hoped it would hold the whole evening.

They entered the ballroom.  What seemed an acre of round tables draped in linens spread out beneath half-dimmed chandeliers.  Pleasant music as unobjectionable as it was uninteresting played against a background of murmuring voices.  Most guests were seated, though a few still milled about, sipping drinks, and a healthy crowd lingered around the bar.  At a long table at the far end of the room, hotel staff were settling the last of the notables.  They didn’t have much time.

The group made a beeline for the bar and put in their orders.  Williams and Liara received their drinks quickly and left in search of the table, leaving Alenko and Shepard tapping their fingers and watching the clock nervously.  Nobody wanted to be the marine stumbling to their seat while the Fleet Admiral gave his opening speech.

“I didn’t know Liara was coming,” Alenko said. 

“I’m sorry.”  The apology was instinctive, and bewildering.  It wasn’t like she wronged him.  “She would’ve ended up sitting in her lab all night dissecting relay data.”

“It’s not- It’s just-“  He floundered.  “I wasn’t expecting you to bring a date, that’s all.  Don’t know why not.”

He sounded disappointed.  Shepard tasted instant regret.  “I didn’t think it through.”

“No, I’m glad she’s here.  She’s earned some fun.”  The bartender set down their drinks.  Alenko handed Shepard her glass.  “Shall we?”

The _Normandy_ crew commandeered a section of tables towards the starboard side of the room, about halfway back.  It was a good location to observe the ceremonies without drawing much attention, and close enough to the bar for efficient refills.  Tali and Specialist Tucks were seated at the table next to Joker’s.  There was little Tali could do about the envirosuit, though she’d tied a skirt and sash not unlike a sari around it.  The look was surprisingly coherent.  She turned towards them and waved.

“About damn time,” Joker complained as Shepard slid into her seat.  “I’ve been sitting here looking like a lonely sack of bones.”

“I’m sure everyone thought this was just enough room for you and your pilot’s ego.  Barely.”

Liara turned towards Shepard.  “So what happens here? We eat dinner, and then…?”

“There’ll be some speeches, some during dinner, some after.  A little pomp and circumstance.  After dinner, someone important will do a recitation of general orders followed by a presentation of the flag.  Then they’ll cut the cake and start the dancing.”

“Gotta pay for the fun with a few hours of boredom,” Joker said, sipping at his beer.  “That’s the navy way.”

Alenko eyed him.  “Those dress blues look like they’ve spent the last year at the bottom of a footlocker.”

“Probably have.”  Joker lacked any trace of shame.  “No, wait, two years- I was somewhere in interstellar space last Founder’s Day.”

Williams popped open her omni-tool and snapped a picture before Joker could put his hand in the way.  “Hey!  What the hell!”

She cackled to herself.  “It’s always good to have a little blackmail tucked away.”

Dinner was served.  The chicken was as dry as the speeches, with a sauce that did its best to make up for it.  As late as the _Normandy_ was in accepting the invitation, there was no time to account for dietary requests, and Shepard found X57 and the old memories it drudged up remained too near the surface to stomach the entrée.  The vegetable sauté and potato gratin, however, were cooked to perfection.  She hoped Tali ate before she came.

Alenko spotted her barely-touched chicken and pushed his vegetable towards her.  “Trade you?”

She gladly switched plates.  “I guess the kitchen is about as sensitive to biotic dietary requirements as they are vegetarians.”

“I think I saw a vegetarian plate go by for one of the pre-registered guests.”  He took a bite and swallowed.  “Pasta with red sauce.”

“I have eaten oceans of pasta with red sauce at these kinds of things.  That and lasagna.”  Most caterers seemed incapable of crafting any other form of vegetarian dish.

Liara was working through her plate slowly.  “One would think after months of living aboard a human ship I would be accustomed to human food.”

“You’ve become accustomed to crappy human food,” Shepard corrected.  “This is decent human food.”

Joker gestured towards the head table.  “I bet none of those guys have eaten a freeze pack meal in decades.”

“Maybe you should suggest it for the menu next year.”  Alenko grinned.  “Really get the nostalgia going.”

One of the admirals had just finished his remarks on the history of the navy, and at several points veered into personal anecdotes from his glory days.  Even from all the way back here, Shepard swore she saw Hackett roll his eyes.  He was seated towards the end of the long table, taciturn as always, and seemed eager for the dinner to end.  As they began to slice the cake, she saw him rise and slip out a side door.

Williams noticed too.  “There must be something big happening if the admiral can’t be bothered to stay for dessert.”

“Or maybe he’s been to so many of these he doesn’t care anymore,” Joker reasoned.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” Shepard said.  “Otherwise I suspect our own evening will be cut short.”

The servers dispensed the cake with fresh fruit and caramel sauce, and the second the last plate hit the final table, the band struck up a faster tune, and the first wave of dancers hit the floor. 

“Finally,” Williams sighed, leaving her slice of cake untouched and hurrying towards the front of the room.  Shepard watched with amusement as she dragged the first hapless marine she found into a dance.  From the way Ash moved, no one would guess how recently she’d been shot.  Chakwas could go up for sainthood.

Alenko rose as well, picking up his empty glass.  “Another round?”

Liara shook her head.  Joker hoisted his half-drunk beer as a way of declining.  Shepard looked up at him.  “Scotch on the rocks?”

“Coming right up.”  He disappeared into the crowd swarming the bar.

Joker took a big pull of his beer.  “Ah, now we’ve reached the ‘everyone tries to get laid’ part of the evening.  It’s just about time for me to find the poker table hidden in the kitchen.”

“You don’t like your odds?” Shepard asked dryly.

“I’m not saying I couldn’t try, I’m just not feeling a broken hip tonight, you know?” 

Liara was watching them askance.  Shepard sat back in her chair.  “Don’t listen to him.  He’s just in a foul mood because his bum’s not used to a chair that hasn’t molded to it over months of continual use.  Unlike our pilot, most people are here to have fun.  No ulterior motives.”

“Ouch, Commander.”  Joker took another drink.  “I don’t see you having much fun.”

Almost on cue, Alenko returned, setting her drink in front of her.  She raised the glass to her pilot.  “I’m having fun now.”

He rolled his eyes and resumed watching the dance floor, and suddenly straightened a bit.  “Hey- is that Chakwas and Adams?”

Alenko squinted into the crowd.  “Sure looks like it.  I hardly recognize them in their dress uniforms.”

Shepard watched them for a few bars of music.  “Wow, the doc can really dance.”

Indeed, though her style lacked flamboyance, Chakwas moved with an ease and effortless grace that bespoke many years of practice.  They were laughing as they navigated around the other dancers.  Williams also remained on the floor, with a new partner now.  Tali and Tucks lingered at the edges, the quarian stumbling a bit through the unfamiliar steps, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves.  Other members of the _Normandy_ crew appeared and vanished with the swirling of the crowd.  They were about evenly split between those on the floor and those lingering over drinks and dessert at the tables.  Almost everyone elected to attend.  Those who hadn’t were mostly residents of Arcturus spending their lone precious evening aboard station with their families. 

Joker swallowed the last of his beer and rose, a touch unsteady on his braced legs.  “If I’m going to stick around, I need a few more of these.”

At that moment, a young man Shepard didn’t recognize, an ensign by his insignia, came over and somewhat nervously asked Liara to dance.  It took the asari a moment to realize he meant her, and an even longer moment to recover from the surprise.  She glanced at the commander.

Shepard laughed.  “Go.  Enjoy yourself.”

She smiled, blushing a bit, gathered her skirt in her hand and allowed him to escort her to the floor.

Shepard sipped at her scotch.  It felt nice, a warmth in her veins that colored the whole room.  “Think they’ll throw a party this good when we finally nail Saren?”

Alenko likewise sat back and addressed his drink.  “I think it’ll be a ceremony twice as bad with half the party.”

“Another bunch of lawn chairs set up in the Council chamber with Sparatus looking like he swallowed a fly?” Shepard asked, recalling her spectre induction.

“Sounds about right.”  He took another swallow.  “I don’t think he honestly wants Saren to succeed, but it’s going to kill him when a human ship takes him down.”

“Pride goeth before the fall.”

Alenko looked over at her.  “I’m glad we’re doing this.  You’ve been pretty ragged the last few weeks.  It’s nice to see you unwind.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that.  It was true, and his concern was touching, but their problems weren’t going away.  “A part of me knows that we couldn’t pull out of port tonight anyway, but another part says every moment we spend here, Saren and the geth get that much further ahead.”

“Let’s not talk about it then.  Just for one night.”

Shepard thought it over.  It sounded really nice.  “Alright.  No more war, just for a few hours.”

She held out her glass and he clinked his against it.  They both drank.  “It’s a deal.”

The hours flew with the party in full swing.  Shepard got up to dance a handful of times, in the spirit of things, but as the night aged she felt more inclined to park herself at the table and continue talking to Alenko between drive-bys from friends and colleagues.  Arcturus was her official posting for more than six years, and she knew quite a few people.

Joker soon ensconced himself at a table of pilots passing a bottle and telling increasingly fabricated fish tales.  Liara returned occasionally to rest her feet; she had no shortage of dance partners, nor conversational partners for that matter.  Any asari on Arcturus stood out, and Liara was definitely not just any asari.  She was a bit flustered by all the attention but gave every appearance of quietly enjoying it.  Shepard imagined it had to be a heady experience, after spending all her life in her mother’s shadow.

Meanwhile, over at the bar, Chief Williams was trying in vain to get the server’s attention.  So many guests crowded the area that it was like swimming upstream in the heart of salmon season just to get to the front.  She finally caught his eye only to have him look away, distracted by another patron’s call.  She banged her palm on the bar.  “Hey!”

Another marine slid in beside her, leaning easily against the wooden counter.  “Yo!  Double shot of tequila, over here!”

The bartender nodded.  “Coming right up.”

Williams let out an exasperated sigh.  The marine glanced down at her.  Concern flashed over his face.  “Hey, I didn’t cut you out, did I?”

“A little, yeah.”  Williams was of middling height with the strong build of a soldier, but she was realizing that beside this man, she was almost tiny.  He stood a solid foot taller, broad of shoulder, and with rock hard muscles obvious even beneath the swath of his dress jacket.  He had a square jaw, brown eyes, and somehow managed to make a basic buzz cut look suave. 

Her irritation was rapidly giving way to another sentiment entirely.  She, too, leaned against the bar and tilted her head.  “You better find a way to make it up to me.”

He laughed.  “Tell you what.  How about I get you a drink too, and we stand here and drink them and see what happens?”

She smiled back.  “Vodka tonic.”

He waved his hand to get the bartender’s attention and placed her order.  “I like to know the names of the people I’m drinking with.”

She slid a bit closer and offered her hand.  “Gunnery Chief Williams.”

“Gunny, huh.”  He ambled a bit closer himself, until they were only a few inches from each other, and shook.  “You look it, every inch.  What’s your posting?”

“ _SSV Normandy_ ,” she answered smugly.

He blinked.  “You’re shitting me.”

“Would I lie to you?”  She smirked as the bartender dropped off their drinks.  “What’s wrong?  Can’t compete, Lieutenant…?”

“Vega.”  He picked up his shot, tossed it back, and pointed a finger at her.  “And sure I can compete, I just don’t want to break out the good stuff too early, you know?”

“Riiight.”

He waved his empty glass at the bar.  “You’re really _Normandy_ crew?”

Williams, who had just spotted a familiar face elbow her way to the bar over Vega’s shoulder, raised an eyebrow.  “I’ll prove it.  Hey, skipper!”

She waved.  Vega’s brow furrowed as he turned.  Shepard squeezed past a pair of drunken civilians.  “Williams.  I wondered where you wandered off.”

She gave the gaping lieutenant the once-over.  “Who’s the meat mountain?”

He snapped to attention and actually saluted, displacing a neighboring patron with his elbow.  “Commander Shepard, ma’am.”

“That’s my name.”  She was amused.

“Sorry, ma’am, I wasn’t- Lt. James Vega, ma’am.”  He blushed.  “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“At ease, Lieutenant,” she said dryly.

The bartender set a pair of glasses on the counter.  “Two scotches.”

“Thank you.”  Shepard reached for them.

Williams eyed the drinks and winked.  “Trying to get a little drunk with the L.T., ma’am?”

“Succeeding,” she said cheerfully.  “And if you delay me, I’ll kill you.”

The chief stepped smartly out of the way.  Shepard snagged the glasses, nodded amiably to the both of them, and melted back into the crowd.

Vega stared after her.  “That was incredible.”

“Hey.”  Ash snapped her fingers under his nose.  “There’s still a woman here who’d like to get a little drunk with you, too, you know.”

He snapped out of it and shook his head, smiling.  “Right.  Where were we?”

Shepard managed to make it back to the table without spilling the drinks despite the best efforts of the other guests milling around.  Alenko picked up his glass as she slid into her seat.  They had reached that comfortably drunk phase that loosened tongues and made them feel warm all over, but hadn’t yet descended into outright debauchery.

She slouched down, swirling the ice in her glass and watching Liara take yet another turn at dancing.  “I don’t think she’s sat down even once in the last hour.”

Alenko shook his head.  “She really has no clue how attractive she is, does she?”

Shepard, beginning to feel that fourth scotch, shifted in her seat.  “I could say the same thing about you.”

He just about spat out his drink.  “Me?”

“I don’t think there’s a single woman who’s walked by this table in the past two hours without taking at least a peek away with her.”  No few of the men, either, but it seemed like overkill to mention it.

“Yeah, that couldn’t be because I’m sitting next to the most famous person in the room.”

“No, they’re looking at you,” Shepard said with the certainty of one who’d been watching, and growing increasingly annoyed with both the attention and the fact that it bothered her that much.  Seeing him like this, dressed up and relaxed in a social setting, was an unexpected pleasure, but it also drove home the point that he was way out of her league in the looks department.

Alenko was as bright red as she’d ever seen him.  “I… think you’re mistaken.”

She let him off the hook.  “Alright.  Forget I mentioned it.”

“Things are starting to wind down,” he remarked, changing the subject.  Indeed, though their section with its proximity to the alcohol was still packed, easily half of the guests had gone as the clock approached midnight. 

“Most of these people have an early start waiting for them tomorrow.”

“So do we.”

“I’m not worried.”  She took a sip.  “We don’t get many opportunities to unwind.  Everyone can sleep off the hangovers while we sit in the relay queue.”

Alenko leaned back a bit further, cradling the glass against his abdomen.  “I’m glad we got this chance.”

“Why’s that?”

“I like getting to talk to you like this, without having to worry about work.”  He drank a mouthful, swallowed.

She watched his throat work, hesitating, and maybe it was the scotch or just that it seemed like the right time to say it, but she blurted out, “I’ve wanted to ask you to dance all night, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The glass paused halfway to his mouth.  He glanced sidelong at her in a way that made her blood heat. 

“No, that wouldn’t be a good idea,” he replied, voice low.  “Even if I’ve been thinking the same thing since I saw you at the door.”

Their eyes locked.  She licked her lips.  “Liara isn’t who I wanted to invite.”

“I know.”  He held her gaze another long second, until the moment was almost ready to break, before looking down at his glass and polishing it off.  Shepard looked away, building necessary distance, frustration entwining with a funny kind of gratitude, that he took the responsibility of backing off and let her keep the unsullied moment.

When he spoke again, it was in his normal tone, absent any huskiness and aided by the hint of a joke.  “And this was even after I saw you dance, which should tell you something right there.”

“Hey,” she protested, falling back on banter just as easily, “I’m good at so many things.  It would be unfair not to leave something for other people.”

Two more drinks and another hour later, the ball was truly coming to a close.  Liara gave into fatigue almost forty minutes past, stopping only to say her goodnights before climbing into a cab with Tali and several other _Normandy_ stragglers.  There were a few diehards revolving slowly to an increasingly irritated band more than ready to wrap up for the night.  The bartenders were mopping the counter when Alenko reluctantly suggested they should return to the ship.

Shepard didn’t want to agree, but her sense of responsibility was beginning to prickle, and she knew he was right.  They collected themselves and exited to the street, swaying only ever so slightly.  With the hour so late, it took several minutes for the cab to arrive.  She should have been tired, after a long day and a longer season, but at that moment, standing good and well drunk in the neon lighting of downtown Arcturus with Kaidan at her side, all she felt was wordlessly content.

They piled into the taxi and she shut the door behind her as he leaned forward to plug their destination into the automatic console.  The clamshell roof slid smoothly closed as the car rose into the air and merged into the thinning traffic.

He sat back against the padded seat and glanced out the window.  “I’ve been to Arcturus before, but never really got off base.  There’s a lot going on here.”

“I find that surprising.”  She settled into the cushion.  “You seem like the type to take the official tour.”

His chuckle was warm and low, with more than a little hint of the scotch to it.  “Never had time.  Maybe you can show me some day.” 

She ginned back, wickedly.  “You might find it costs more than you expect.”

Something out the window caught his eye, a distraction.  He straightened a bit.  “Wow.  They’re really putting on a show out there.”

“The aerial demonstration?” she asked, surprised.  They were flying over Grissom Square, though it seemed exceptionally late for the day’s festivities to still be in full swing. 

Brow furrowed, she leaned forward to get a better look, and felt the tug against her hip too late to stop it.  The sound of ripping fabric filled the cabin.  “Shit!”

“Huh?” he said, turning away from the window.

Shepard was fretting over the hem of her skirt, which now had a sizable chunk torn out.  “My damn clothes got caught in the door.”

He evaluated the damage.  “I’m no expert, but that doesn’t look repairable.  I hope you have a spare.”

“Do you think I’d wear it dirty so often if I-“  Her expression changed suddenly.  “Wait, we’re on Arcturus- I do have a spare, back in quarters with the rest of my stuff.”

“Sounds like we’re making a detour.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching for the console.  “It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.  It’s not far out of the way.”

“At this point we’re so long past curfew that I don’t think another ten minutes is going to matter.”

The cab deposited them beside a faceless gray building lined with a parsimonious scattering of regimented windows.  It was standard military station housing for officers.  Space was at a premium and living quarters were utilitarian at best, but it still beat the hell out of the barracks.  Shepard punched the button for the third floor, turned left at the elevator, and swiped her thumb over the indentation in the hatch.

Alenko stepped inside.  “So this is Chez Shepard.”

“You could say that.”  She opened the top drawer of her bureau and tried to remember where she stashed the pants that came with the original uniform.  The unconventional skirt was an add-on.  “If you like sharing a bedroom, a couch that folds out of the wall, and a bathroom that doubles as a shower stall, anyway.”

“Well, at least you have a window,” he said, glancing at the port.

It was a nice view.  The building butted against the bulkhead of the station, and after several years on a waiting list, Shepard finally got a unit that looked out on the stars.  “You have no idea how many favors I had to pull for that.”

The port was deep-set into the wall.  Alenko picked up the picture sitting on the windowsill.  It showed a smiling couple, a long-limbed ebony woman with a huge grin beside a taller, more reserved man.  “Your roommate?”

Shepard gave it a glance.  “Imogen, yeah, and her husband.”

“She doesn’t live with her husband?” he asked with surprise.

“They’re both military and always deployed.”  She shrugged.  “Im says hotels are nicer than houses anyway, when they do get to see each other.  I think they don’t want to bother with the expense or upkeep for a few weeks a year of residence.  Say what else you like, this place practically maintains itself.”

“Only because it would put a spartan to shame.”  He shook his head.  “To each their own, but being out on a ship for months is hard enough on relationships without having a place to call home.”

“It wouldn’t be my choice, either.”  She was looking at him now, across the room, as he examined Imogen’s sentimental holo.  There was a different feel about it, as if everything they said and did carried secret weight, like the specific words they spoke had nothing to do with what they were saying.  “Everyone needs a home.”

“And this isn’t yours.”

“No.”  The fact that she liked him quite a lot was old news to her mind and libido alike.  There weren’t that many people in the world with whom she could have real honesty, who understood what drove her because it drove him too- a quintessential duty and a need to serve.  She never felt judged in his eyes, or that she fell short of some arbitrary expectation.  Like what she had to offer, as little or as much as that might be, was enough for him.  The sentiment was entirely foreign.

They were each committed, body and blood, to seeing this mission through.  Nothing would be allowed to compromise that.  Life on a frigate was boredom bookended by moments of sheer terror, and the flirting was a good way, a safe way, to relieve both.  It couldn’t be for real.  No matter how much she liked to pretend otherwise, at times.

She took a breath and let it out.  “If I could afford it, I’d have bought something a long time ago.  Just to have a place that’s mine, even if it stood empty.  I’ve never had that.”

Alenko looked up from the picture and caught her staring.  His voice was hushed and his eyes never left her.  “That surprises me.  You don’t do things by the book much.”

“Picking and choosing what I like works out well for me.”  Shepard was suddenly very aware they were alone in her apartment, not two meters from each other, and her roommate was somewhere in the middle of the Skyllian Verge.  Most of her crew was too preoccupied with their own pursuits tonight to notice whether or when they returned to the ship.  And aware of just how good he looked- tired enough to be relaxed without being sleepy, hair in just the slightest disarray, and god but that man knew how to wear a uniform.

She drifted a step closer, and another.  The woman in her made it an unconscious sway, placing her right foot precisely in line with her left as she moved.  There was no disguising it as she came up beside him.

Alenko’s eyes flicked over her, and her heart sped up. 

“I can see that,” he said, a quality in his voice she didn’t often hear, a little lower still, a little quieter.  “You’re accustomed to getting your way.”

“I usually do.”  It was intended to be a smirk, but it came out more as a smile, warm, with a hint of invitation about it.  She removed the picture frame from his hand and set it back on the sill.

To her astonishment, Alenko slid closer to her.  Almost fussily, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, lingering. “I should go.”

He started to turn away.  Her hand drifted against his waist, holding him fast with a gentle touch, feeling him shiver faintly at the contact of her palm.  His obvious reluctance to follow through on his pronouncement made her bolder than she should have been.  Her heart raced, the words tumbling over each other.  “You know, you don’t have to.  If you don’t want to.”

He continued his fastidious inspection.  His finger trailed down her jaw, bumped over her lips.  She sucked in a breath.  Her hands slipped under his jacket to rest at his waist, the heat of his body plain through the thin cotton undershirt, craving more.  He pressed closer to her.  Their foreheads touched, his nose prodding hers, breath mingling in the scant space between them.

Why had she ever thought this was complicated?  This was the simplest kind of thing there was. 

His scent filled her head, soap and musk and the slightest whiff of scotch, and his warmth was so inviting Shepard longed to sink into it.  She never wanted anyone so badly in her life. 

Beyond all self-control, she raised her chin, her mouth seeking his, and for a split second he seemed to almost melt into her.  Then, a scant centimeter before they met, his fingers pressed abruptly on her lips, an ugliness between them.  It broke over her like a dash of cold water.  Her eyes flew open and looked into his. 

He took a shaky breath.  “No, I should go.”

There was regret in his tone, but also finality. 

She fell back against the wall and wrapped her arms around her waist, more than embarrassed- shocked.  The last few reckless minutes replayed through her mind.  She couldn’t manage more than a stammer.  Couldn’t look at him.  “Right.  I’m sorry.  I don’t know what- I’m sorry.”

He took a deliberate step back.  Then another.  He swallowed.  “No, it’s ok.  Really.  I understand.”

She took a deep breath, and flicked her gaze up to him and back to the floor.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Lieutenant.”

“Goodnight, Commander.”  He bit his lip.  “Nathaly.”

And then he was gone, leaving her alone in the tiny apartment that now seemed altogether too large, a sad jumble of conflicted and unfulfilled longings. 

/\/\/\/\/\

Alenko took the long way back to the _Normandy_.  Just then, the cold, abandoned streets of Arcturus Station were exactly what he needed.  He walked until he stopped hesitating with every step, debating whether to turn around, take Shepard in his arms and tell her he changed his mind.  His heart wanted nothing better than to make her happy.  His body wanted nothing more than to make _him_ happy.  But his brain had dictatorial control of both and was busily berating him with all the reasons why he couldn’t.

His attraction to her was hardly new.  She was the closest friend he’d had in years, and she was perfect tonight, with her long hair looking ready to tumble down at any moment and the relaxed atmosphere rounding off the hardest edges of her demeanor.  Just the thought of her long, lean body pressed against his was enough to make him sweat.

Except she was also his C.O., and wild behavior could land them both in a world of trouble.  They were at war with the geth and the _Normandy_ was on the front lines.  That was how people wound up in the brig.  So as tempting as he found the idea of indulging that attraction, he cared about her too much to put her at risk.  She was the superior officer as well as an exceptionally public officer.  If they did, and they got caught, she would bear the brunt of the consequences.  He refused to allow her to destroy her career over him.

That didn’t mean he was happy about it.  Questioning regulations didn’t come naturally to him.  He felt a headache coming on quite unrelated to his implant. Why couldn’t anything ever be simple?  Was it so bad to pretend for one lousy night they were just two people who liked each other very much?  What the hell harm could it do, anyway?

 That he was somewhat drunk wasn’t helping.  His treacherous, unchecked imagination kept sketching out alternative endings for the evening in vivid detail.  He wished for a desperate moment to be more drunk, too much to have the presence of mind to walk out of her apartment.  He cursed himself, too, for lacking the bravery to face the consequences, for leaving her there like that, without explaining himself.  But if he stayed a second longer he would not have left at all.

By the time he got back to the ship, his thoughts were a complete muddle.  Alenko knew there was no chance of him sleeping tonight, not for hours at any rate, so he retrieved a book from his footlocker and sat down in the mess to read. 

He had just managed to immerse himself sufficiently to cease drafting intimate montages in his head when Private Moya interrupted him.  “Hey, L.T.”

His expression of frustration must have bordered on anger, because the private took a step back.  “Sorry sir, I was just surprised to see you still up.  Hell of a party tonight.”

“Someone’s got to watch the ship,” Alenko said neutrally, the first thing to come to mind, and flipped a page.

Moya was perplexed.  “We’re sitting in port, sir.”

Alenko was more than a little confused himself.  _At this moment, you could be making love to the most intriguing woman in the galaxy, and god knows it’s been awhile, but instead you’re sitting on a cramped ship reading an old book about volcano people from Io.  What the hell is wrong with you?_  

He flipped another page without reading it, hoping to send a hint.  “You can’t be too careful.”

His brow furrowed.  Alenko glowered. Moya swallowed.  “As you say, sir.”

He lowered the book, looking up at him directly.  Glaring, really.  “Did you need something, Private?”

Moya straightened.  “No, sir.”

“Back to your post, then.”

“Yes, sir.”  He left, perhaps a bit more hastily than was strictly required.

Alenko tried to get back to reading, but his mind kept drifting back to the cramped quarters of Shepard’s apartment, the hopeful look in her eyes, the electric touch of her hand on him.  The total disappointment when he left, like he’d crushed her into a paper ball.  He knew exactly what extending that kind of hope cost her.  _I’m an idiot._

And worse- _What if I just ruined everything?_


	42. The Coffee Date

The _SSV Normandy_ proceeded through the relay at precisely 0800 hours, seventeen minutes, and against every odd given the general state of the crew.  Joker programmed the approach, saw it through, set their FTL course, and slumped over in his couch.  The snoring could be heard from the CIC.

Shepard wasn’t concerned.  They were in intersystem space now; the ship flew itself.  And she had two co-pilots monitoring the flight path, in addition to the reliable fact that Joker would go to any lengths to save his ship, if they ran into trouble.  His lack of delegation was legendary.

She herself had no such difficulties staying awake.  She should be tired- she hardly slept- but all she felt was nausea and a persistent sense of dread.  How could she be so stupid?  The drinking was no excuse.  The party was no excuse.  Some lines could not be crossed.  It was three hours since she returned to the ship and she had yet to see him, and hadn’t looked for him, either.

She just had to push it.  As her mother would say, she'd cut off her nose to spite her face.  It had been a good relationship, personal and professional, but she couldn’t leave well enough alone. 

It wasn’t difficult to imagine what he must think of her now.  Alenko was a conservative person and did things by the book.  The only books featuring those kinds of things were cheap paperbacks sold to bored travelers at spaceport kiosks.

She stared morosely at the blip of the _Normandy_ crawling across the galaxy map.  She should be so lucky for an uncharted singularity to swallow the ship.

“Ma’am?”

Her head jerked.  She glanced over at Specialist Lowe.  Something about the woman’s face suggested this wasn’t the first attempt to capture her attention.  Shepard cleared her throat.  “Yes, Specialist?”

“I said Tali’Zorah called up from your quarters ten minutes ago.  You were supposed to meet her?”

A vague memory of promising to do precisely that once navigation was squared away trickled back from breakfast.  She pushed away from the map.  “Pressly, the deck is yours.”

“Aye, aye ma’am.”

Her feet pound the stairs on their own.  It wasn’t just humiliation.  For a moment there, she let herself believe it could be more, and by now she should damn well know better.  But she never learned.  It was over the night Todd left her in the hospital alone, after her shuttle limped back from Akuze and she was admitted for observation, but it took another five months for her to give up.  Hell, it took Nehal throwing things at her in different hospital room, years later, literally driving her from her life to end that relationship.  Shepard held onto people.  By her fingernails, if necessary.

She should just take the graceful exit Alenko offered while it was still available, and stop the wishful thinking before she really embarrassed herself.

Tali waited outside her hatch.  Shepard swiped the touchpad on the hatch without much more than a muttered greeting.  The quarian followed, fidgeting, a bit put off.  “If this is a bad time, I can come back.”

“No, it’s fine.”  Shepard aimed for polite but only managed short.  She took a breath and tried again, forcing a harried smile.  “I want to hear about what you found.  This could be the break we need.”

She gestured towards the other end of the couch and both women sat, crossing their legs.  Tali withdrew an OSD from a suit pocket and started explaining the process and what it got them.  “I spent most of the day hunting for an access port.  Of course, I couldn’t get into the server rooms directly.  But your military base inside the station was built in bits and pieces, with servers in many locations.  Eventually, I discovered an unsecured TAP line…”

Shepard’s attentive expression remained on Tali, but as the quarian dove into the technical details with gusto, never comfortable ground for the commander even in the best of circumstances, her gaze glazed over and her mind wandered. 

They’d have to see each other eventually.  Reason said to pretend nothing happened, or blame it on the scotch and laugh it off as absurd.  It was hard to say how she was supposed to look at him and shrug it away when she couldn’t even think of him without recalling the warmth of his face, so close to hers, skin against skin.  Or the flutter of anticipation in her stomach, or the rush of exhilaration.

The attraction was real and mutual, but Kaidan made it obvious that from where he stood, it wasn’t worth the risks.  The only polite thing to do was to act as though she felt the same.  Nothing was more pathetic than hanging on after the other person let go.  And it wasn’t like it could have ever worked- maybe for a rare night like yesterday’s, or a sporadic string of stolen moments, but no further.  It wasn’t like she even had anything to regret save for a single lousy foolish hope.

She wished she felt angry, that she could scream and curse a bit in the privacy of her quarters and be done.  Wanting to cry would be worse, but that too could be expunged.  This felt bleak, like the wind was knocked completely from her sails and left her stranded in the middle of a glassy sea on an achingly hot day, and there was nothing to do about it but stare at the horizon and hope something stirred up a breeze.

Tali waved a hand in front of her face.  “Shepard?”

She started from her reverie and took stock of her worried friend.  Chagrin touched her cheeks.  “I’m sorry.  It’s tech.  I don’t understand it nearly as well as I should.”

Tali set the OSD aside.  “What’s wrong with you today?  You’re zoning out.”

“I’m having an off day.  I think it’s the way our schedule got thrown, going to Arcturus.”

“You don’t have off days.”  She leaned forward.  “What’s really going on?”

Shepard reached for something satisfactory and comforting to allay her concern and bring the conversation back to the data, promising herself to focus this time.  But there was something about the patient way Tali waited, without pressure or expectation, and the realization that this was what she always did, deflect, that made her reconsider.  Tali wasn’t evaluating her competency or seeking a nice soft spot to exploit.  She was trying to be a friend.

But what was Shepard supposed to say?  That the sting of an unrequited crush on a truly inappropriate person was making her brain chase itself in undignified circles, or how this was a positively stupid amount of hurt for an idle daydream? 

She searched for words.  “Do you ever feel… deeply misunderstood?”

“All the time,” Tali answered promptly.  “I’m a quarian, Shepard, on my pilgrimage.  I haven’t seen the flotilla in a year.  I haven’t seen my friends or my family in a year.  This is part of why we send our young people out into the galaxy- so when they come back home, they’ll appreciate what they missed.”

“I guess I never thought about it.”

“Most young quarians think the galaxy is either an escape from the flotilla, or a pit of ignorance where quarians are treated like animals, from which the flotilla protects us.  By being forced to leave, we realize it’s so much larger and more complicated than that.”

“It sounds strange to hear it, but I never thought I’d enlist. Not enlisting was going to be my escape.” She shrugged.  “Both my parents were navy, and eighteen years of the life is a damn long time.”

Tali tilted her head.  “Why did you stay, then?”

She chuckled and shook her head.  “It turned out I was pretty good at it.  I liked being good at it.  I felt I had a purpose, and that I owed it to the people who aren’t any good at it to keep going.”

“I’ve always wanted to serve my people,” Tali said, fiddling with her hands.  “I was always afraid I wouldn’t be good enough.”

Shepard had to suppress a snort of laughter.  “Tali’Zorah, my engineers tell me they wouldn’t know what to do without you down by the drive core.  You grew up on a bucket of bolts and took to this cutting-edge alien ship like a duck to water.”

The quarian glanced away and down a bit, scuffling her toe.  “I… do what I can.  It’s nice here.”

“How so?”

“For one thing, nobody treats me like I’m a vagrant.”  There was an unusual touch of bitterness coloring her tone.  “None of you even know my people, not really, but you don’t make assumptions.”

“I’m not just any one thing either,” Shepard said, frustrated and oddly wistful.  She gestured at the ship.  “But most of the time, this is all there’s room for.  I never get a chance to stop and just be.”  She licked her lips, her turn to stare at her folded hands.  “I thought, maybe, I found a place I could, but I was wrong about that.  Now I’m… readjusting.”

“That makes sense,” Tali understandably missed the point, vague as Shepard was being, but found one equally interesting.  “You live on Arcturus Station, but it’s just another posting.  It doesn’t give you what you need.  It doesn’t have a soul.  Going home reminds you of what it’s not.”

She never considered it like that.  “Can a place have a soul?”

“We think so.”  Tali shrugged.  “Why else can a place feel abandoned when it’s only empty?”

“What about you?”  Shepard jerked her chin at her.  “Does the flotilla give you what you need?”

Tali straightened, a bit surprised.  “I haven’t thought about it.  It’s where quarians live, except the exiled.  Where else would we go?”

“You could stay on with us.  We’re less crowded, at least.”  Shepard grinned.

She laughed.  “I appreciate the offer, but I need to complete my pilgrimage.  I’ve planned it for years.  I know exactly the ship I want to join when I’m finally able to offer my gift.”

“Gift?”

“It’s a goodwill gesture towards the crew of the ship you belong to as an adult.  We find something of value while on our pilgrimage and bring it home.  I’m hoping that the data I’m acquiring by fighting the geth will prove worthwhile.”

“You’re the first quarian to see real geth in three hundred years.  I’m guessing it will pass.”

“I hope so.”  She sounded a trifle uncertain for a moment.  “Speaking of which, I would like to discuss that data I scraped from your servers before I go.”

“Right.”  Shepard cleared her head and straightened, back to business.  “Were you able to access the server?”

“Eventually.  It was very well defended.  Getting in without tripping any alarms was complicated.  But I found a window that allowed me to make downloads for almost two hours.”

“And they won’t know anything was copied?”

Tali shifted in her seat.  “It’s hard to say.  I don’t know all of their monitoring protocols.  But it won’t be for at least a day, and they won’t find any trace of who accessed the files.”

“Good enough for me.”  Shepard nodded at the OSD.  “Did we find anything useful?”

“I don’t know yet.  There is a lot of data to collate, and it will take some time.”

“Give me your first impressions.”

Tali, too, glanced at the drive, in the same way as a scorpion.  “Cerberus seems to consist of several divisions.  Their paramilitary arm is impressive, but it’s the research teams that worry me.  Some of this research- there’s evidence they’re using human subjects, hints at illegal AI.  And that’s only the beginning.”

“Do we know which of the labs are receiving samples related to Saren’s work?”

She shook her head.  “Not yet.  I have a personal VI crawling all over the files to establish an index.”

Shepard nodded and got to her feet.  “Let me know when we have something that points to Saren.”

“Of course.”  Tali followed suit, standing and starting for the door.

Shepard swallowed, licked her lips.  “Tali?”

She paused at the hatch expectantly.  “Yes?”

The words _“it wasn’t Arcturus”_ hung in her mouth, waiting to be spoken.  Explaining the whole mess to somebody indifferent had cathartic appeal, like if she could get some of it out, the remainder might stop threatening to strangle her.  But telling would be an admission of that need, so she only nodded, a creature of habit.  “Nice work.”

Tali softened.  “Thank you.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Ashley Williams shuffled onto the bridge and sank into an empty co-pilot couch with a sigh of relief.  A light Alliance-issued blanket settled in folds around her.  Dark circles hung beneath her eyes.

The hours since the relay transit worked wonders on their pilot’s alertness.  Joker snickered.  “Hey, Chief.  Have a nice evening?”

“Very nice.” 

“I’ll bet.”  He glanced at her.  “How much nice?”

She grinned smugly, her brown eyes flashing.  “Exactly the right amount.”

“Sounds like it beats losing a couple hundred credits on late-night poker, anyway.”

“Yeah.”  She shifted her weight to ease the pressure on her injury.  “I have done smarter things than dance for hours on a gunshot wound.  This blows.”

“Best thing about being a pilot?  The not getting shot.”

“I thought it was knowing the world’s largest compensation toy is sitting three meters below your feet, under your complete control.”

“Please,” Joker scoffed.  “This is a frigate.  A dreadnought battery’s a much larger compensation toy.”

She laughed.  Joker turned his attention back to the controls.  “Anyway, I’m just saying- between the two of us, I’m the one with enough sense to pick the career track that doesn’t involve bullet wounds.”

“Four generations of marines.  It’s in my blood.”  Williams scrunched up in the couch.  “I hate this sitting around, waiting.  It’s almost as bad as being back at a garrison.  It was good, getting off the ship for a night, but I’m itching for a fight, you know?”

He nodded, stifling a yawn.  It was a late night.  “So what brings you up here?”

She sighed and shrugged deeper into the blanket.  “It’s dark.  And cold.  And way up here, you finally lose that godawful hum from the drive core.”

“Sounds like someone’s got a headache.”

“Half the crew has a headache,” she protested.  “Except, ironically, the L.T., even though he drank as much as anyone.  There’s no justice in the world.”

“That’s a shame.  I hear the commander likes helping him out with those.”

Ash made a face.  “You didn’t see them fawning all over each other in med bay after that last run.  I had to hightail it out of there.”

“What’s a cruise without a little bit of scandal, anyway?”

“It’d be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic.  Sometimes it feels like watching a blind dog stumble into walls.”

Joker snorted.  “You’ve got two people married to their careers, who took a full dose of the ‘duty, honor, sacrifice’ kool-aid when they signed on.  By the time they looked up ten years had gone by and now they have no clue how to be normal people.  Fuck yeah it’s awkward.”

“I guess.”  She reached forward and fiddled with a holographic knob, bored.

He slapped her hand away.  “Mine.  No touching.”

“Possessive,” she chided.  “You’re definitely the one to provide deep insight into relationships.”

“I know enough to keep it simple.”  He stretched out his arms, twisting his hands backward as he flexed his fingers and cracked the knuckles.  “No messy hormones, no dating crew, just a good chair in a great ship.”

Ash hunkered into the blanket.  “You keep telling yourself that.”

/\/\/\/\/\

After Tali left, Shepard dithered in her cabin finishing reports and reviewing paperwork.  Stern reminders that she would have to confront the issue sooner or later were no good; her brain inevitably answered “definitely later”.  She wondered if it was possible to avoid him for days, and then she wondered if he’d notice if she tried.

Which was the point she realized she was hiding on her own ship, and disgust edged out disappointment.  The only thing that should have her full attention was the mission; it was still out there, waiting, voracious.  Right now, it was also comforting.  Shepard took mental stock of the most recent developments and decided to have a chat with Wrex.  At the very least, he was unlikely to offer concern or sympathy to stir her emotional pot- and he might know something to point them at their next target.  Krogan were refreshingly pragmatic.

He tended to spend his idle time aboard ship down in the hold, along with _Normandy’s_ marines, trading war stories.  Today, however, he was on his own as the crew tried to shake off the previous evening’s indulgences via sleep, exercise, and downing strange concoctions up in the mess.  She found him squatting on the floor and working on his gear.  “Wrex.”

“Shepard.”  His broad head turned towards her, waiting for her to speak.  Wrex was a man of few words.

She sat down beside him and draped her arms across her knees.  “Tell me about krogan mercenaries.”

“For starters, there’s a whole bunch of us.”  He sat back against the bulkhead and eyed her.  “We’re fighters.  It’s in our DNA.  Tuchanka is a planet at war with itself.  Even our plants are brutal.”

“Doesn’t explain why so many krogan leave Tuchanka to fight other people’s wars.”

He sighed.  “You can’t have a civilization without children.  It’s that simple.  When you get fed up with squabbling over fertile females and the clan infighting, you find a transport off that rock and out to the Terminus Systems for some real blood.”

Shepard wanted to ask about krogan mercenary bands, but she was struck by a different question.  “Where are krogan women in all this?”

“The females have their own clan.  Nobody messes with them.”  Wrex rolled his shoulder, and tested the slide on his shotgun.  “They honor strength and they take care of their own.  The younger males spend half their time trying to prove themselves to get breeding requests and build favor.”

“How many of them leave Tuchanka?”

He blinked, as though he never considered it. “Not many.  I guess some of the infertile ones might want to leave, but I’ve never seen a krogan female off-world.  Don’t know what stops them.  Hope, maybe.”

She felt a pang of sympathy for them.  Krogan lived a thousand years, much like asari.  Passing a hundred centuries vainly striving towards the one thing they could never have, bearing one stillborn after another, was an insidious torture.  It made her pipe dreams of home seem childish, even naïve.  “Do most krogan mercs freelance, or are there organized groups?”

Wrex shrugged, and made another small adjustment to the weapon.  “A little of both.  Blood Pack’s grown a bunch the last few decades.  They’re mostly krogan, along with vorcha for cannon fodder.  There’s a few others but none as large.”

“I’m wondering because a lot of these krogan Saren’s hired have a similar look.  Same armor, same style, almost seems like the same faces on some of them.”

“You think he hired out an entire band?”

Shepard nodded.  “I’ve spent time in the Terminus, but I’m a novice on the politics.  You’ve crossed in and out of there for centuries.”

“They don’t ring any bells.  Don’t you think I would have said something by now?”

“I’m not foolish enough to believe krogan don’t have any honor.”  She rested her skull against the bulkhead.  “You wouldn’t sell out your own without a good reason.”

“The strong prevail, and the weak deserve to die.  That’s how it’s always been.  If a bunch of krogan mercs threw in with Saren, they’re either strong enough to take the kind of fire he draws, or they bet their lives on the wrong job.”

“Sometimes the strong die too, Wrex.”

“Yeah, but you know the difference when you see it.”  He grinned into the middle distance, as if seeing another time.  “When the turians killed Shiagur at Canrum, during the rebellions, thousands of krogan across the worlds took to the field for vengeance.  Turian blood paid for her death many times over.  That’s strength- after you’re gone, your comrades continue to fight and die for you, with your battlesong on their lips.  Nobody even knows these krogans’ names.”

She cocked her head.  “Will they sing for you, when you die?”

His grin broadened and took on a razor gleam as his head swung back to her.  “That’s a dangerous question.  It’s good that I like you, Shepard.”

Her mouth turned up at the corner.  “You know, if we ever end up standing across from each other, that will be a truly interesting day.”

Wrex laughed, a deep sound all the way up from his gut.  “If there are more humans like you, the Council is right to be afraid.  You’re some kind of… soft-shelled krogan, almost.”

“Your way of life doesn’t lack for appeal.”  She sighed and swept a few stray strands of hair out of her face.  Krogan philosophy had the virtue of simplicity.  “Giving yourself up to the fight, the blood and the adrenaline.  Seeing how far you can climb before somebody takes you out for no better reason than to test your limits…” 

A part of her loved it.  Especially on a day like this, it would be easy drop the weight of consequences and context into the dust and not look back.  Shepard cleared her throat.  “There have been humans who did.  Nobody remembers them fondly.  Much less sings for them.”

“Warriors need the fight,” he said, as if that explained everything and no further excuse was required.  “If there were no genophage, we would have won the rebellions, maybe even dominated the galaxy for a while.  But there’s no shortage of worthy foes.  Power is just a way of keeping score.”

Shepard snorted.  “Try telling that one to the asari.  Or the salarians.”

He sized her up.  “So what stops you?  You can’t tell me you’ve never heard it calling.”

She recognized instantly what he meant- those perfect moments in a battle when everything was so clear and simple and slow that she almost felt like a god, wielding death and life alike, her gun singing in her hand as they slew her foes together, one after another, like gnats.  She could do no wrong.  That moment was outside morality.  It was right to act as she saw fit; it was correct that all those who opposed her fall.  The strength and skill were hers by right.  They sizzled in her blood and begged for use.  Nothing else mattered.

Shepard looked up at him.  “Because I get to decide what I am.  Strength without control leaves you rotten.”

“Maybe control is just a cage we build for ourselves.”

“If you’re enslaved by someone else, it just means you’re weaker than them.  If you’re enslaved to yourself, you’re weaker than everyone.”

Wrex regarded her.  “The krogan have been enslaved by the genophage for a long time.”

“And what exactly are you doing about that?”

“You have a lot of nerve-“

“I’m human.  This was an old story before my species discovered electricity.  I have no stake in this.  From where I sit, it’s pure curiosity.”

He opened his mouth, but before he could growl a reply, there was a loud bang from across the bay.  A small cloud of dust enveloped the Mako.  Shepard shot to her feet.  “What the hell?”

One of her engineers offered her a look that was at once relieved and harassed as she hurried over.  “Commander.”

“Did I stutter, Specialist Novak?”  She waved the dust out of her face.  It was a fine-grained grit, sharp and powdery in her nose.  The tank sat askance, the wheels out of their usual locks while stowed.

“No, ma’am.”  He coughed up half a lung of debris.  She drew him back a few steps, and he nodded his thanks.  “The clamp slipped.  No injuries, thank god.  Draven crawled out from under it just before it fell.”

Her brow furrowed.  “Why are you lifting my Mako in the first place?”

Draven, eyes watering, joined them.  “Regolith, ma’am.  X57’s dust got into everything on that last jaunt.  It’s screwing up the sensors.”

Shepard folded her arms and regarded the tank.  “So you’re telling me we have no functional ground vehicle?”

Draven swallowed.  “No, ma’am.  Not as such.”

“Not as such.”  Each syllable was crisp.  “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

The two engineers exchanged a glance.  Novak spoke.  “There’s always some clean-up.  Planetary grit isn’t this fine-ground.  Filters got clogged, some got bypassed because of the mesh size.  We didn’t realize the extent of the damage until this morning.”

“We sent you an email,” Draven chimed in, helpfully.

Shepard ignored the blatant attempt to buy time for repairs by burying critical information in an email.  They could have gotten assistance at Arcturus, or replaced the Mako outright, but nobody bothered to check while they were in port due to the general leave and the party.  That was on her as much as any of her crew.  She grimaced, and blew out a breath.  “Alright.  It’s done.  We’re going to fix this.”

That got their attention.  Novak cleared his throat.  “’We’, ma’am?”

Shepard turned away from the Mako.  “How much power is generated by the Mako’s drive core, Specialist?”

He hesitated.  She redirected.  “Ensign Draven, surely you can recall such a vital statistic.”

Draven straightened.  “1800 kilowatts, ma’am.”

“Correct, for the M35 Mako.  This is an M35-AS, specially equipped for inhospitable environments, and its drive core generates 1870 kilowatts under normal operating conditions.”  She faced her two engineers.  “I probably know more about ground vehicles than anyone aboard ship, and I don’t want to be in a position where we can’t act because our transport is out of commission.  Are you going to refuse my help?”

“Of course not, ma’am.”  Draven dogged her heels as Shepard began inspecting the tank.  “We just don’t want to take you away from other priorities.”

“Until this is fixed, Ensign, I have no other priorities.”

The three worked steadily for most of the day.  Taking apart several of the sensors for cleaning was a time-consuming and finicky process that gave them all a few gray hairs, but as afternoon faded into evening, the instrumentation was beginning to respond within spec.  It was good work, challenging work, and exactly what she needed to keep her mind focused.  It was also a great excuse to not leave the lower deck. 

Her team, however, lacked her enthusiasm.  She finally took pity on them when the call came for evening mess and let them go get some food.  Shepard elected to remain with the Mako.  She had no appetite.  Dinner emptied the bay and left her quite alone.  The solitude was enjoyable, with nothing but the quiet hum of the ship, the exhalations of the air system, and the occasional groan of metal as the _Normandy’s_ bones settled.  A frigate was never silent; a thermal gradient, acceleration, a small imbalance, any source of stress would cause the metal to ease and bend.  It often unnerved recruits who grew up on hard planetary rock, who had to teach their hindbrains that such noises did not mean the ship was about to fly apart around them.  Shepard found it comforting.

She climbed into the Mako and began to run through standard startup routines for the instrumentation, checking for problems.  Her list was half completed when the hatch opened and she saw Alenko peering up into the cabin with something like concern.

“Hey,” he said.

She swallowed and returned her attention to the instrument panel, carefully locking down all expression.  “Hi.”

“Have you eaten anything?  I missed you at lunch.”

She shook her head and flipped a switch.  “Someone brought me a sandwich.  That’s the nice thing about visiting port.”

“Fresh supplies?”

“At least for a few weeks.”  The camera warm-up stalled out for the third time.  “Damn it.”

He glanced at the error readings.  “Do you need a hand?”

“There’s still grit in the electronics somewhere.  I’ll isolate it eventually.”  Nothing would convince her to take apart the entire system again.  Selective removal was the way forward.

“Well, maybe I could keep you company then.”

She stared out the forward port, wishing he’d go away, and knowing that she couldn’t put off this confrontation forever.  “Nobody’s stopping you.”

He boosted himself up into the seat and closed the hatch behind him.  Without being asked, he started testing the ladar console. 

They worked like that, in passive silence, for several minutes before Shepard decided having the conversation couldn’t possibly be worse than dreading it, and abruptly cleared her throat.  “I should apologize for last night.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  It was completely unprofessional.”

He chuckled, rueful, and shook his head.  “I know what you were thinking.  It sounded a lot like what I was thinking.  Maybe it was unprofessional, but it wasn’t… unwelcome.”

Shepard glanced up at him and met his eyes entirely by accident.  There was still a trace of yesterday’s heat between them, a spectral web dancing across the cabin, and for a split second she forgot the way it ended.  Then reality asserted itself like a lead injection in her chest.  She licked her lips and looked down. 

“I feel like I should explain,” he said after a moment.

“No need.”  She rebooted the cameras, annoyed with herself, the situation, and his persistent need to explore this.  He rebuffed her.  He should at least have the decency to let it rest.  “You don’t want the regulation mess.  It’s ok.”

Alenko watched her, wondering if she was up all night with the same torrid thoughts, trying to find the right way to speak.  She drew inward, fixated on the console, and it finally penetrated his brain that she was, in fact, extraordinarily hurt, and fighting like hell not to show it.  She was so confident in her working life that it was easy to forget how vulnerable she often was in her personal life.  That she might feel what happened was a rejection was intolerable.  “I’m not sure where to start.  Nathaly-“

“No.”  That was beyond what she could endure.  She could count on one hand the people who called her that.  A first name was one of those incidental bits of humanity she shed on her way to becoming Commander Shepard, Commanding Officer _SSV Normandy_ and Spectre of the Citadel.  It was too close.  She buried the pang that came with hearing it from him in a deep breath and clipped syllables.  “It’s Commander.  It’s best if we keep this professional.”

He rubbed his forehead and ran his hand over his hair.  “I don’t want professional.  Not with you.”

“Then what the hell is it that you do want?”  Her face cut to his, suddenly too angry to care what he might read. 

He blinked at her.

She had been up all night, torn between hurt and longing, lying in bed hoping he’d come back and knowing that he wouldn’t.  Realizing that while sex was lovely, she didn't care what they did.  If he'd wanted to talk all night, or go back to the taxi and drive until dawn, or hell, actually sleep, she would have done it.  She just wanted  him.  The context didn't matter.

And he hadn't wanted her.  Not like that.

Shepard held his gaze, not allowing either of them to look away.  “Tell me, Kaidan.  Because after last night, I have no fricking idea.”

“It’s not the mess,” he said without thinking, surprising even himself.  “Not exactly.  This thing between us, whatever it is… I feel like it has a lot of potential.  I don’t want to start it off the wrong way.  This mission won’t last forever.  Eventually, we’ll get some kind of breathing room to figure it out.  I’m… I’m really looking forward to that.”

“Shore leave.”

“Yeah.”  Alenko licked his lips.  “I was thinking maybe we could grab a cup of coffee or something.”

Her mouth opened and snapped shut.  “After all this- everything we’ve been through the last few months, now you want to wait until we’ve shut Saren down and then take me out for _coffee_?”

“Unfortunately our culture has yet to invent a polite way of asking someone if she’d like to find a nice cushy hotel, fool around until we can’t walk straight, and fall asleep watching old movies.”  His mouth turned up at one corner, tentative.  “So, coffee.”

She burst out laughing.  “I bet the asari have a word for that.”

“Probably.”  He smiled back, a little more confident.

Her laughter faded into a chuckle, relief and excitement warring for expression, feeling all of ten years lighter, like she might float off the bench.  “I think I can live with… coffee.”

He leaned across the cabin impulsively and kissed her cheek, barely brushing the skin with his lips, and she felt a jolt run down her spine that had nothing to do with the malfunctioning instrumentation.  Shepard grinned.  “You’re not very good at waiting, are you?”

“As good as I have to be,” he sighed.  “Come on.  We have ten minutes left to eat.”

“It’s always food with you,” she joked, and followed him out the hatch.  “At some point, we’re going to need a real plan.  Actually figure this out.”

“True, but we have enough to deal with at the moment.”  They boarded the elevator and pushed the button for Deck 2, and if they stood a little closer than was usual, nobody took any notice.


	43. Meet Major Kyle

It was a further three days before Tali found Shepard in the lounge late one evening.  Hardly anyone was still awake.  The commander sat across from Alenko.  They were slumped in their chairs, feet resting on the cushion opposite, forming a parallel bridge of legs on which they rested their datapads.  They each looked up as Tali approached.

She clutched an OSD with an air of excitement.  “I think I have something.”

Shepard’s interest piqued immediately.  “The VI finished collating the files?”

She nodded, pleased.  “There are some interesting connections.”

Alenko’s brow furrowed.  “What’s this about?”

“I don’t know yet.”  Shepard rose, stretching, and escorted Tali to her quarters, ignoring Kaidan’s curious stare.  She was uncustomarily bad at lying to him, and didn’t want to, anyway.  There was still some hope she could keep her Alliance crew clean of the data theft.

As soon as the hatch slid shut, Tali began to speak at a rapid clip.  “Do you remember how I was telling you about Cerberus’ research arm?  It’s so much worse than we thought.”

“I can imagine a lot of bad, Tali.”

“It’s all stored on this,” she said, handing the OSD to Shepard.  “But I also uncovered something we did not expect.”

She gestured towards Shepard’s terminal, and the commander obliged by inserting the storage device.  Tali leaned forward and scanned to the appropriate file.  Shepard frowned.  “This looks like a dossier on a colony.”

“It’s small, so far out in the Traverse that it might be better classified as part of the Terminus Systems.  Hawking Eta.”

“Hawking Eta?”  That rang a bell.  “That’s where those two kids were headed, from the derelict ship we found.  What the hell does this have to do with Cerberus?”

Tali nodded.  “It gets stranger.  Apparently, there is a small commune located on a moon in the Century System.  It’s a refuge for biotic humans established by a former Alliance officer.”

Scraps of information were assembling in her head, hints from Hackett and Anderson dropped grudgingly in an attempt to wave her off.  “Don’t tell me.  His name is Major Kyle?”

The light of her eyes dimmed and brightened, a blink.  “How did you-“

“Those biotic extremists who kidnapped Chairman Burns dropped his name.  Hackett filled in some of the details.”  Her frown deepened.  She crossed her arms and sat back on her heel.  “Clearly not all of them.”

“The Alliance believes the commune might be some kind of Cerberus recruitment camp.  Your Major Kyle has no kind words for the navy.”

“So I’ve heard.”  Following that mission, Shepard looked up some of his extranet publications.  ‘Rant’ was a word that came to mind.  ‘Conspiracy Theorist’ were two more.  “He might be the type to throw in with Cerberus.  From what Julia said, they’re clearly interested in biotics.”

“I doubt he can tell you anything about their preoccupation with Saren’s research, but…”

“Maybe he can point me to someone who can,” Shepard finished.  She grinned.  It was an expression of excitement and anticipation both.  “This is excellent data, Tali.  You really do work miracles.”

“And this is just the beginning.  It makes me wonder what else was in those server banks that wasn’t about Cerberus.”

“Well, don’t go getting ideas.  I’m still amazed we got away with this much.”  Shepard made up her mind.  Right now, she had no lead on Saren more tangible than this, at least not until they figured out the Mu Relay.  If Liara could find them a destination, Council or no Council, Shepard was taking the ship through. 

She cleared her wandering thoughts and glanced at the ceiling, speaking to the VI.  “Alert the navigator that we have a new destination.  I’m on my way up.”

The VI chimed softly.  “Navigator Pressly is currently engaged in engineering.  Does this meeting have priority?”

“Negative.  Let me know when he’s available.”  Shepard looked up at Tali and sighed, ruefully.

“I’ll leave the data with you.  If there’s a problem below decks, I should probably join them.”  Tali nodded to Shepard and took her leave.

The hatch slid shut behind her.  Shepard glanced back at the data set.  Cerberus was more than a separatist group; they were an enigma that seemed to stain every part of human space, quietly tangled with the Alliance in a way that made her neck itch.  She didn’t have to ask if there were facts buried in those files she never wanted to learn; she knew it.

But her hunger for detail was relentless, and she found herself leaning towards the keys.  She opened a search and typed _Ascension Project._

There was a brief pause as the database program collated the requested files.  The first was an executive summary of the last several years.  Shepard brought it up on the screen.  Her eyes scanned the text, seeking something more than background information.

_We are forced to conclude the program is irreparably compromised.  While none of the instructors in question have yet been confirmed as Cerberus operatives, more troubling is the corruption they have spread through the rest of the staff.  Their attempts to shift the program’s focus away from educating biotic youth and back to an experimental test regimen similar to that of BAaT (see attached) has taken root at all levels.  This cannot be tolerated under Ascension’s present level of public transparence and scrutiny, nor in light of the rapidly increasing number of human biotics and concurrent cultural normalization of their unique abilities._

_Culling and re-education of the staff across the board is strongly advised.  Replacements must be selected from outside the program’s walls and preferably free of those corporations and institutions we suspect are susceptible to Cerberus influence._

Her eyes lingered on the attachment link.  Shepard bit her lip.  She shouldn’t do it.  It was almost like spying. 

She tapped her fingers on the desk twice, and opened the file before she could think better of it.

It was a collection of notes, likely parsed from the project logs.  Passages jumped out at her.

_The L1 results are disappointing.  The implant yields negligible increases in power output or control.  Scans indicate the surgery is irreversible.  Patients will be released as we have no further use of them.  While a pliant brain is undoubtedly required, theirs may have been too young to accommodate or benefit from implant technology.  L2 candidate identification trials (in progress) will consider only the oldest students.  Reminder: Implant program details are classified._

The comment was dated 2163.  Shepard did the math.  Kaidan had mentioned the Singapore group was the first of the biotics on Jump Zero; these children, the L1 recipients, were twelve years old at the most.  Barely pubescent, and here was Conatix performing experimental surgery on their brains.

Twelve years old.  Her stomach seethed.  She skipped ahead.

_L2 candidate trials are nearly complete. Twenty-one students met or exceeded program criteria in every area.  We recommend these students be co-located in advance of their new schedule.  Dorm 3B should suffice.  Recommend gradual isolation from other students for program OPSEC._

Shepard took in the chart that followed, an assessment of each student’s aptitude.  Her eyebrows rose.  It was hardly news that Kaidan was modest to a fault, but he held one of the top three scores in every category.  He was evidently much stronger than he let on.  His comments about losing control made a little more sense- but only a little.  Shepard was certain she couldn’t compel him to so much as stomp on an ant if he was convinced it was wrong.

There was a picture, too, of the first L2 cadre.  She spotted him immediately, at the end of the row.  Shorter than he was now but wearing the same quiet, serious smile.  He stood beside a young woman with a cap of dark shiny hair and lively eyes.  It was impossible to say whether this was his Rahna, though she did seem the only girl in the image with the right ethnicity.  She was quite beautiful, in the fresh and coltish way of sixteen-year-old girls, but something about her suggested she would be just as lovely today.  They made a striking pair.

Somewhat self-conscious, Shepard closed the file and pushed away from the desk.  This wasn’t just like spying; it was _exactly_ like spying.  She wasn’t entitled to any of it.  She ejected the OSD and headed to the CIC.

/\/\/\/\/\

Liara T’Soni was shut away in her lab, datapads, bits of cardstock, and other notes from her work on the relay scattered about her terminal.  She hadn’t looked at any of it for the last forty minutes.  Her mind was preoccupied.

The archaeologist rarely experienced such difficulty focusing on a task.  Indeed, in school her advisors often chided her laser focus, suggesting that it came at the sacrifice of perspective.  Liara never saw the point of a varied life.  Why invest time in pursuits she didn’t care for, when the few she did could soak up almost infinite quantities of attention?

But then, wasn’t much for people in general.  She lacked close friends, and had no family left- and really, Benezia exited her life long before she died.  Her academic colleagues mostly found her theories overly ambitious for her experience and her fixation off-putting.  She was curt with strangers and acquaintances alike and actively avoided romantic entanglements.  They sounded messy and interfered with one’s work.  And yet, here she sat.  Distracted.

The navy ball weighed on her mind.  Shepard invited her.  Liara would be lying if she pretended she hadn’t hoped she would, though after Tali raised the subject she assumed it would not come to pass.  And while Shepard hadn’t exactly showered her with attention after they entered the hall, they had danced once, and of all those she danced that night, that was the one she remembered.

She didn’t know how to classify her relationship with the commander, and as a lifelong cataloguer of information, this bothered her on an instinctive level.  Though Shepard possessed her own brand of bluntness and her expectations of her team were astronomical, at the same time, she displayed an underlying concern and courtesy that was unfeigned.  She tried to save her from the confrontation with her mother, and she shielded her from the Council’s scrutiny.  When Liara said she knew nothing of Saren or Benezia’s plans, Shepard took her at her word.  For that alone, Liara owed her loyalty.

Liara told herself, again, that she wasn’t much accustomed to having friends, but that was another act of self-deception.  There was more to it, a tension between them Liara couldn’t define.  Some of it was Shepard’s sense of privacy, always at risk when they melded their minds, but… all of it?  Despite her head injury, Shepard comforted her all the way back to Port Hanshan after that ugly business on Peak 15.  She invited her to the dance.  There was no obligation to do either.  Shepard _cared_ about what happened to her, and that was a novel feeling as well.  It was difficult not to want…

A blush deepened on her cheeks as she recalled the look on Shepard’s face when she saw her draped in that ridiculous dress.  It was a daring outfit, far beyond Liara’s comfort zone, but she wanted Shepard to be proud to escort her, and the saleswoman assured her humans found the look attractive.  Goddess, she was never so nervous as she put it on… But the way Shepard’s mouth dropped open made it all worthwhile.  She never imagined so small an expression could make her feel so pleased.

From behind her sealed hatch, she heard someone enter the med bay, greeted by Chakwas’ distinctive voice.  Liara recognized the answering murmur even though she could not make out the words, almost as if her single-mindedness had summoned the commander.  She glanced around at her fruitless work, and pushed away from the bench, uncertain what she intended but wanting to see her all the same.

In the med bay, Dr. Chakwas swung the arm of the scanning apparatus out of the way and nodded, smiling.  “Based on the most recent tests, your fracture appears to be on the mend.”

Shepard looked relieved.  She must have been more worried than she let on, to show it on her face.  “Glad to hear it, doc.”

“I would advise you continue to take it easy, but the warning would ring a trifle hollow, I’m afraid.”  Chakwas entered her findings into Shepard’s digital chart with wry amusement. 

“I wouldn’t be too worried.  With a little luck, this next planetfall should employ less iron diplomacy.”

“That is welcome news.”  Chakwas raised a gray eyebrow.  “Your other vitals are trending up as well.  Better than they’ve been since Mars.  I do believe taking respite on Arcturus, however brief, did you some good.”

Shepard colored, only just visible on her dusky skin in the bright light of the clinic, and kept her response vague.  “It’s good to take a break every now and then.”

“Words you might take care to remember the next time we find ourselves in port.”  There was more than a hint of chiding in the doctor’s tone.  Shepard was infamous for overworking herself.

Shepard grew distant for a moment, and much to both Liara and Chakwas’ astonishment, answered with the smallest of smiles on her face.  “Maybe you’re right.”

Chakwas turned to Liara.  “There’s no need to lurk.  I feel like we’ve barely seen you these past few days.”

Liara drew back, suddenly shy.  “I have been quite busy researching the relay destinations.” 

Shepard folded her arms, her interest keen.  “Have you had any luck narrowing the list?”

“No,” Liara said, with genuine regret.  The problem kept her working night and day.  After everything the commander had done for her, the support and trust she had no right to expect, disappointing Shepard was unthinkable. 

The commander’s mouth pressed into a line, though it was not formed of dissatisfaction with the asari, but frustration with their task.  “The Conduit is there.  I can feel it.”

“It seems likely, yes.”  She licked her lips.  Goddess, but just having Shepard look at her made her nervous.  “Of the two hundred and four known connections, I’ve managed to eliminate all but seventy as likely candidates.  Most of them led to worlds unlikely to draw more than cursory interest from the Prothean Empire, based on an algorithm I wrote in graduate school for locating new dig sites.  However, further refinement-“

“Liara,” Shepard interrupted, shaking her head.  “I know you’re giving it your best.  You don’t need to work yourself to death over it.  We’ll get there.”

Chakwas completed updating her files and closed down the scanner.  “Now that’s finished, I believe it’s time for lunch.  Will you join me?”

“In a few minutes,” Shepard said.  The doctor nodded and departed for the mess.  They watched her queue for her meal through the med bay port.

Liara perched on an exam table, fidgeting nervously with her hands until she realized what she was doing, and dropped them into her lap.  “How can you be so sure?”

“Sure of what?”  Shepard turned away from the window and went to the scanner, pulling open her chart to read through it herself.

“Our eventual success.”  Liara shook her head.  “It does not seem so clear to me.”

“Because I don’t have any other choice.”  Shepard laughed a little at their predicament, as she continued to parse the latest report.  She had a knack for doing one thing while speaking of another, a talent Liara admired.

She found herself chuckling as well.  Some days, it seemed hopeless.  “I don’t know how you do it.  Keep going, that is, without losing faith.”

Another faint smile.  “I have some-“

“Some experience, I know.”  Liara completed the phrase unconsciously.  Her face burned.  Shepard seemed not to notice.  Her fingers began to wind themselves into pretzels again.  It was strange how they could share one mind to complete this mission, and yet sharing a simple conversation seemed increasingly complicated.  It felt like extracting a particularly delicate artifact from thousands of years of dried mud, dirty, hard to see clearly, and risking catastrophe with every small movement of her pick.

Liara felt compelled to say something of her introspection since Arcturus, in the interests of honesty and settling her emotions, but the words stuck in her throat.  Shepard was not a coward; she would not admire one.  And Shepard was in a good mood.  Now seemed as good a time as any.

She laid her nervous hands flat against her thighs and took a breath.  “I was wondering if we might discuss something else.”

Shepard turned away from the display, a question in her eyes.  “What is it?”

“I…”  Now that she decided to do it, Liara was having difficulty arranging her thoughts.  It was embarrassing.

Shepard tilted her head with a bit of a smirk.  “Come on, Liara.  I’m sure whatever it is can’t be that bad.”

She took a breath.  “I wanted to tell you how… very fond of you I am.  You’ve been a friend to me at great risk to yourself and your mission.”

Her smile broadened, and she snorted her disbelief.  “You were never a risk.” 

“You had no way to know.”  She looked down at her lap for the span of a second, before forcing her eyes back up to Shepard.  “I feel as though there is a connection between us-“

The hatch slid open, an unwelcome interruption.  Liara lost her concentration and shot it a glare. 

Lieutenant Alenko stuck his head inside.  His gaze landed on Shepard.  “Chakwas said I might find you here.  Garrus is starting up the weekly poker game in the mess.  I think he wants to win his money back.  You in?”

Belatedly, his attention widened to include Liara as well.  “You’re welcome, too, of course.”

But Liara’s eyes were fixed on Shepard, alongside her dismay.  She watched her notice Alenko as he entered the room, watched her straighten her back, uncross her arms.  The smirk was replaced with something warmer and almost giddy.  There was an intangible glow about her that was not there a moment earlier.  It was subtle; undoubtedly, had Liara’s attention not been so wholly focused on Shepard, she would have missed it altogether.

Belatedly, Liara remembered some of Ashley’s gossip, which had confused her at the time.  It was now only too plain what she meant. 

Even Shepard’s reply as she told him that of course she’d like to play was changed- a little less commander of a warship and a little more womanly.  Easy to overlook, but unmistakable all the same.  And there was a different look about him as well, in his smile, in his eyes, in the lightness of his step, as he nodded acknowledgement and turned to go. 

Liara watched the hatch slide shut behind him with a profound and empty jealousy as deep as her growing sense of humiliation.  Now that she’d seen it, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed before.  What kind of scientist was she, anyway, if she couldn’t discern what was right under her nose?

Shepard turned back to her.  “What were you saying?”

Her voice remained kind, but now there was a note of impatience, that certain sourness that came from being kept from where she truly wanted to be.  It sunk into Liara’s stomach like a dull red coal.  She glanced at the entrance to her lab, so she would not have to meet her eyes.  “It wasn’t important.  We can talk later.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”  Shepard let it go without a fight.  “Are you coming?”

There was nothing Liara wanted less in the world.  “No.  I should get back to work.”

“Alright.  Just don’t push too hard.  We need you in one piece.”

Shepard squeezed her shoulder and was gone.  Liara was left alone with a stone in her heart.

/\/\/\/\/\

Tension clouded the atmosphere in the CIC as the _Normandy_ entered orbit around Presrop.  The compound was indeed small, not more than a hundred residents, and perhaps far fewer.  Though the moon was known for its rich metallic resources, its proximity to the galactic core, the Terminus Systems, and inhospitable environment had thus far outweighed large-scale economic interests.  While scanning, the ship also identified several “wildcat” operations, a handful of individuals trying to strike it rich with robotic mines.  Shepard didn’t think they were likely to cause trouble.  Not because they feared the Alliance military- but because Colonial Affairs might decide to tax them.

The biotic colony had a typical layout, several tens of acres of surface dotted with single-story pillbox structures serving as entrances to underground bunkers where the residents slept, worked, grew their food, and went about their lives.  They had their own small mining operation just south of the buildings, generating credits to support the colony.  If they were a Cerberus operation, they evidently weren’t important enough to fully fund.

Joker settled them into a low orbit while Bakari established connections with the colony’s satellite comm buoys.  Pressly was hunched over his console, examining the scans.  “There’s no evidence of defenses, ma’am.  No artillery or kinetic barriers.”

Shepard crossed her arms.  “They obviously thought the remote location would hide them.  Not their smartest idea.”

“No, ma’am.  They must have some other system in place, ground-based defenses, maybe.  Otherwise they’d never survive all the way out here.”

She glanced at Bakari.  “Do we have communications?”

“Yes, ma’am.  I can put you through on your order.”

“Do it.”  She steadied herself as Bakari tapped at his console.  He gave her a nod.  She took a breath.  “This is Commander Shepard of the _SSV Normandy_ requesting to speak with the leader of this colony.”

Static crackled from the overhead speaker.  An angry man came on the channel.  “Outsiders are not welcome here.  I suggest you turn back.”

“I just want to talk.”  She paced in front of the console.  “He may have information critical to my mission.”

“Father Kyle wants nothing more to do with the Alliance.”

“Why is that, Mister…?”

“You don’t need my name,” he spat.  “The last two ‘negotiators’ your people sent pretended to come in good faith, too.  As soon as they were granted access, they tried to take Father Kyle into custody against his will.  For his own good, they said.  More like for the good of a military regime that doesn’t want the public to know the truth.”

She closed her eyes, controlling her temper.  “Are the negotiators still there?”

There was a nasty laugh.  “In a manner of speaking.”

Pressly caught her eye and spoke low, so the VI wouldn’t transmit.  “Commander, if they killed those men, this could be a lot more dangerous than we thought.”

Shepard nodded, and switched tactics.  “I’m not coming after them.  I’m investigating the activities of the rogue agent Saren Arterius under the authorization of Citadel Special Tactics and Reconnaissance.”

“I don’t care if you have authorization from god himself.  We are not granting you permission to land, or to speak with our leadership.”

She ground her teeth.  “I’ve got an entire frigate under my command along with a detachment of trained marines.  I don’t want to make this difficult, but allow me to be clear: I _will_ speak to Kyle.  Peacefully or by force is up to you.”

There was a long pause from the other end.  Shepard applied a little more pressure. “This isn’t a pair of navy investigators.  You’re dealing with a spectre and a squad of combat veterans.  I’m offering to do this diplomatically.  In a few hours, I’ll be out of your hair.”

The speaker crackled again.  “We’ll give you two hours.  Set down at these coordinates.  Nobody leaves the ship but you.  You’ll meet with Father Kyle, hear whatever answers he wants to give, and be on your way.  Agreed?”

Pressly shook his head.  Even Bakari looked apprehensive.  Shepard ignored them both.  “I agree to your terms.  I’ll come alone- but I’ll be armed.”

“That’s not acceptable.”

“It’s not optional.”

Another pause.  “Fine.  Enter the third habitat from the compound gates.  We’ll leave the door unlocked.”

The channel closed.  She stepped away from the galaxy map as Pressly descended.  “Ma’am, this is extremely unwise.  There’s dozens of potential adversaries in that camp, most or all of them biotics.”

“That’s why you’ll be monitoring my vitals and all communications for the duration of my stay.”  She headed for the stairs.

Her X.O. followed.  “You don’t have to solve everything yourself.”

She paused to regard him.  “Most of these people have been persecuted their entire lives for what they are.  They’ve built a refuge, here at the edge of civilization, and they won’t allow anyone to take that from them.  Do they deserve to die so that I can have a conversation with one man?”

“Of course not.”  Pressly was exasperated.  “But you don’t have to put your life in the hands of brigands and dissenters, either.  And this is totally outside Alliance protocol.  We should radio Arcturus for instructions.”

“They’re civilians and citizens of the Alliance.  Putting my life at risk for them is kind of what I do.”  She sighed.  “You met the extremists who kidnapped Burns.  You read my report about the two kids traveling to this colony.  They’re not trying to hurt anyone.  If I don’t threaten them, they won’t turn on me.”

“I don’t like it, ma’am.”

“Noted.”  She tagged the hatch.  “I’m relying on you to handle it if things go south.  Think you can do that for me?”

He straightened, almost offended, and offered a stiff salute.  “Yes, ma’am.” 

She returned it, and went to suit up.

/\/\/\/\/\

The _Normandy_ settled into the regolith at precisely the location requested.  This left the hatch two stories above the ground, and so Shepard went out through the shuttle bay.  Klendagon was low in the sky, the planetshine creating cross-angle shadows with those cast by the primary star, but the long, ugly scar cut into the southern hemisphere still drew the eye.  It was jagged and puckered like the slash of a dull knife crudely healed.  It had to be geologic in origin, but Shepard had seen Valles Marineris both from space and on the ground, and it didn’t seem quite the same. 

There wasn’t enough air on the moon to carry the dust she kicked up as she walked towards the compound.  Instead, it fell around her boots in perfect parabolic fountains of fine powder, glinting a bit in the light due to the heavy concentration of metals in its composition.  Her suit was tight to her body, that familiar elastic pressure that wasn’t quite the same as the full weight of breathable air, and the respirator on the almost-new suit was absolutely silent.  This was as alone as she ever got.  Alliance stations and ships might not be crowded by, say, quarian standards, but leg room and privacy were precious commodities.  Even in her own cabin people disturbed her all hours of day.

Shepard strolled to the gates, taking her time.

Gravity was nearly 90% Earth standard and the barred metal doors leading into the compound were quite heavy.  Nobody met her at the gate.  It crashed shut behind her, every bar shaking.  Inside, there was no activity, not even robotic.  Vehicle tracks and footprints crisscrossed the terrain.  Shepard found the third building easily and the outer airlock slid open at her touch.

The tech was old and reliable, using mechanical pumps to bring her up to full atmosphere rather than holding in the air with a mass effect field.  The colonists built defensively, even if they didn’t want or couldn’t afford heavy weapons.  Shepard approved.

When the inner hatch opened, she was greeted by two rifles pointed at her head.  She removed her helmet and smiled. 

One of the two men jabbed the barrel into her cheek.  “This isn’t funny.”

“No,” Shepard said.  “It makes me feel right at home.”

They exchanged glances.  Shepard looked bored.  “Where’s Kyle?”

He withdrew the weapon.  “We won’t let you take him, you know.”

“Don’t worry, my ship is already full up on crazy.”

The other man raised his arm as if to backhand her.  She caught hold of his wrist halfway through the attack and held it in still.  Her calm never wavered.  “Where’s Kyle?”

“This way.”  He yanked his arm back and jerked his head down a corridor.

It led to an elevator, which took them several stories underground.  They rode in silence.  Halfway down, Shepard began to whistle, tunelessly. 

The first man eyed her askance.  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“No one really knows.”  She was actually in a pretty good mood.  Apparently that rubbed them strange.

“This isn’t a game to us,” the other said.  “You don’t know what it’s like.  There’s no safety in the galaxy for people like us.  Kyle gave us a home, a place to be with our own kind, free of Alliance interference.  There are families here- mothers and fathers just trying to keep their children from being tagged like cattle for the war machine.”

“I know the history,” she said, placating.  “I know your treatment hasn’t been fair.”

“Is this the part where you tell us you have good friends who are biotics?”  He was as dry as he was sarcastic.

She tilted her head as the doors chimed open.  “Not where I was going, but as a matter of fact-“

“This is our _life_ , Commander.  It’s not news story, and it’s not a history book, it’s not a political football and it’s not something for you to talk about like it’s a piece of you.”

A snappy comeback rose to mind, but then she thought about it and simply nodded.  “You’re right.  I apologize.”

He accepted that with a faint grimace, and gestured down the hallway.  “Father Kyle’s study is this way.”

“How did you get started here?  There must have been some seed money.”

“You came all this way to ask about our financing?” He raised his eyebrows.

“In a manner of speaking.”  Or at least, she’d find evidence of Cerberus financing very compelling.

“We’re here,” the other man grunted, tagging into a hatch, which slid sideways into the wall.  “I suggest politeness.”

“Thank you.”  Shepard stepped into the room.  The hatch shut behind her.

A tall man, broad of shoulder, tan-skinned with buzz-cut graying black hair, moustache, and a soul-patch goatee, stood behind a battleship of a desk.  Shepard couldn’t imagine what it cost to ship it all the way out here.  It was a curiously sentimental item for someone who’d done everything in his power to cut ties with the real world.  He turned as she entered.  “Ah, Commander.”

She considered saluting- he did outrank her, retired or no- but decided it would go over poorly.  “Major Kyle, I presume.”

She judged correctly.  He shook his head and leaned on the desk, fingers splayed.  “I gave up that honor some time ago.”

“Well, I hope you don’t expect me to call you Father Kyle.”

He chuckled.  “Some of my children are more enthusiastic than others.  Kyle is fine.”

Her eyes swept the remainder of the office.  A thick rug graced the floor, and knickknacks- paperweights, photographs, the odd carved bit of stone- decorated the flat surfaces.  None of the remaining furniture was near as grand as the desk.  Even the chair was utilitarian.  It told her the desk and the props were important, enough to drag halfway across the galaxy. 

She filed that for future reference.  “Why are you here?”

“I expected to ask you much the same thing.”  He pushed away from the table and let out one of those sighs expelling the dust of ages.  “After my… retirement, I was left searching for purpose.  I’m sure you understand the need to serve.  I ran across the first of them by chance.  A single father, his daughter was… damaged, by Conatix scientists with Alliance blessings.  He was a friend of a friend.  All he wanted was proper treatment for his daughter, and unlike many here he even had money, but none of the schools would take her.  It was legal discrimination.”

“You tried to use your connections within the Alliance to help her.”

He walked to a cabinet and picked up a palm-sized statue carved in the likeness of a cat and shuffled it from hand to hand.  “They told me that Ascension was her only option.  Of course her father didn’t want to send her there, not after the horrific exploitation of BAaT-“

“Ascension is a completely different project.”

“Don’t get me started on Ascension.”  There was more than a little warning in his tone.  He set down the statue.  “Would you care for a drink, Commander?”

“I don’t drink on duty.”

“Water, then.”  At her nod, he opened the cabinet and poured, selecting bourbon for himself, as Shepard shifted her helmet, tucking it under her left arm.  They both sipped.  Kyle swallowed and set down his glass.  “Your turn.  What brings you to my colony?”

She pursed her lips.  “Are you familiar with my assignment?”

“You’re the N7 they jumped up to spectre to pursue Saren and make him answer for Eden Prime.”

“Among other crimes, yes.”  She took another sip and leaned against the wall, cradling the cup.  “You went to N-school yourself, sir.”

He laughed at that.  “True, though I never aspired so high.”

“That was how you ended up in command on Torfan.”  It was a risk to mention it, but it was a strange conversation, and Shepard found herself more than ordinarily inclined to get to the bottom of what was happening, rather than just the information she required.

His only response was to take another swallow of the liquor. 

She continued, her tone entirely inoffensive.  “I lost friends on that rock.  It takes an especially dedicated man to run an op that carries that kind of price tag.”

He watched her frankly.  “I don’t remember you being there.”

“Broken leg,” she answered, just as bluntly.  “A month before you took that moon I raided a building out in the Maroon Sea.  It was on fire.  The floor collapsed underneath me.  Otherwise, I imagine this would be quite a different conversation.”

“Yes.”  He downed the last of the drink.  “You and I both know my orders were necessary, to fulfill those I received from my superiors.  Parliament did not.  The public did not.  I saw an opportunity here to help a group of people who were similarly ignored.  At first, it was just an extranet community.  Eventually, we realized the only solution was to make our own life somewhere else.”

“And you’re their leader.  Father Kyle.  It’s odd they’d choose a religious title.”

“I was able to get results.  They appreciate that.”  His voice had a sharp edge.  “You still haven’t answered my question.”

A sore spot, then.  She left it alone for the moment.  “I’ve discovered a connection between Saren Arterius and a human terrorist organization called Cerberus, whom I’ve also connected to your colony here.  I came for answers.”

He blinked several times.  “What sort of connection?”

Shepard explained as briefly as she could.  “Awhile back, I picked up a group of biotic terrorists who dropped your name, and more recently, I encountered a pair of travelers on their way to this colony from Ascension.  They were acquainted with a doctor I know to be in Cerberus’ employ.”

“Awfully thin stuff to call a person with so much on her mind this far out into the Traverse.”  Kyle went to pour a second round.

She scowled.  “I have evidence that Cerberus is dogging Saren’s footsteps, trying to duplicate his research.  This whole war is just a means to an end.  Every world he gives his personal attention- Eden Prime, Feros, Noveria- has something he needs.  I’m trying to put it all together.”

He smiled across the glass.  “You have no idea where he is, do you.”

She scowled.  His grin widened.  “I don’t know anything about Cerberus.”

“I don’t believe that.”  She pushed off the wall and set down her own cup, ticking items off on her fingers.  “First, you know who they are.  That’s a smaller group than you might think, given how much trouble I’ve had learning anything.   Second, the customary reaction to an accusation of ties to terrorism is fear or outrage.  You’re barely surprised.”

“Outrage?”  He laughed, and it was bitter.  “I left the Alliance in disgrace after Torfan.  An honorable, medical discharge because I was ‘psychologically unfit for duty’.  And why?  Because I did my damn job.  I sent my marines, boys and girls and N-school graduates, it didn’t matter- I sent them into narrow holes in the ground to die so the Alliance could take that moon.”

“I’m not here to dispute the legitimacy of your orders, the ones you got or the ones you gave,” she replied evenly.  “I’m here for the truth.”

“The truth is that I’m not surprised because it’s scarcely surprising that an officer of the Alliance would come here, to my sanctuary, to accuse me of yet more harm and poor judgment.” 

“So I take it you’re not with them, then.”  She leaned towards him across the desk.  “But you do know something about them.”

“And what do I get out of this arrangement, Commander Shepard?”

“My gratitude,” she answered promptly.  “It’s amazing the kinds of things a spectre can do for her friends.  And I have some information you may find useful.”

“What information?” he asked.

Her mouth quirked.  She should have expected payment up front.  “I recently came into possession of a number of classified files regarding Cerberus.  That’s how I found you.  Between your preference for disgruntled biotics and the extranet rants, they think you’re running a recruitment camp.  That’s why they sent the investigators.”

Kyle paled a bit, and gulped at the bourbon.  “That is… Well.  Their line of questioning certainly makes more sense.”

“It was a mistake to kill them.”

“They left me no choice.”  He licked his lips.  “Alright.  I’ll tell you what you want to know, but I’m afraid it’s likely less than you need.”

“I’ll take whatever you have to offer.”

He left the drink sitting on the table and walked to a cabinet, speaking as he began to unlock it.  “It all comes back to the Ascension Project at Grissom Academy.  I’ve met parents of biotic children, and biotics themselves who grew up in the shadow of humanity’s distrust.  And I’ve learned this: for as many people who wish to contain or even eliminate biotics, there are far more who want to control them.”

“Is that why you felt you had to leave for this moon?  Somewhere nice and distant, rich enough in resources to support a colony but too close to the galactic core for anyone else to want?”

“You have a keen grasp of the situation.  Yes.  Here, my children are free to live their lives as they see fit, free of any domination, even from those who claim to hold their best interests at heart.”

_Children_ , Shepard thought.  Kyle wasn’t well.  The investigators likely saw it, too.  She wondered if the Alliance knew they were dead, or if they were still awaiting a report.  “Tell me about Cerberus and Ascension.  They don’t seem likely allies.”

“They’re not.  Cerberus managed to infiltrate Ascension’s staff, to evaluate biotic students while they are young, as part of their research and recruitment programs.  I don’t know which one ran afoul of you, but they’re uniformly despicable.  More than one of our children were rescued from their not-so-tender care.”

“By people like Lamai and Jordan.”  It wasn’t a question.  Shepard was beginning to see the shape of Kyle’s operation.  He wasn’t violent, per se, but he employed his own vigilantes to extract biotics from bad situations.  He’d probably use the word liberate.

“Jordan exceeded the limits of his authority when he kidnapped Burns.  We wish to sever our relationship with the Systems Alliance, not start a war.”

“A war needs more than a few hundred people on the opposition side.”

“Call it what you will.”  He shook his head.  “I should have known better than to allow Lamai a place on such a team.  If you knew what she’s endured-“

“I’m not entirely ignorant.”  Shepard folded her arms.  “I’m close with one of her former classmates.  He’s told me about BAaT.”

“Then you should understand why none of us wish to place our trust in Ascension, the Alliance or the Cerberus personnel.”  Kyle pulled open the cabinet and extracted a datapad.  “We’ve also skirmished with Cerberus since our founding.  I’d love to take the battle to them directly, but I don’t have the resources.”

He held it out to her.  “Transfer that to your omni-tool.”

She began the process, watching the data upload.  “Do you know where I can find them?”

“They have many laboratories.  Most are field operations, ready to be torched at the slightest sign of trouble.  But I know they have a central processing facility in the Voyager Cluster.  All their research, each of their test specimens, winds up there eventually.  Some of us have disappeared there.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover.  You don’t know anything more specific?”

He shook his head, regretful.  “All of the encounters we’ve had are in that data.  Maybe you can find a pattern.  We never could.”

The transfer finished.  She set the pad on the desk and gulped the remainder of her water.  “Thank you.  This is exactly what I needed.”

“You are an interesting person, Commander.  Not many would be so… creative in pursuit of her mission.”  There was the slightest note of regret. 

Shepard heard it, and licked her lips.  “Will you take some advice?”

“I will listen.”

“The two investigators- you can’t honestly believe the Alliance will let that stand.  They’re going to assemble a strike team and assume control of this colony.”

Kyle was calm.  “I am aware.  We will be ready, when they come.”

“You’d sacrifice your ‘children’, just like that?”

He looked away.  She pressed the point.  “Major, you’ve done a good thing here.  These people have found a real home.  But now by staying here, you’re endangering them, and not just because of the Alliance.  You want to give them freedom.  How much freedom can they possibly have while treating you like some kind of religious figurehead?”

“Their chosen vernacular is unfortunate, but this is a colony, not a cult.”  His words were crisp and defensive.

She shrugged.  “How long do you think it will stay that way?”

“And what alternative would you suggest?”

“Take a shuttle through the relay and surrender to the Alliance.  Once they have you, they won’t care about your followers.  You’re the problem, not them.”

He frowned, deep in thought.  Shepard added a little more incentive.  “When I draw up a report on my progress, I’ll make certain to note how very helpful and cooperative you were.  That should be enough to earn you fair treatment.”

“I will… consider it.”  Kyle nodded.  “It was good to meet you, Commander.”

She knew a dismissal when she heard one.  Returning the nod, she headed back to her ship.  With every step she was aware that though his intel was useful, it was not anything like enough.

/\/\/\/\/\

Six hours later, they were on their way out of the system, leaving Major Kyle and his strange band far behind.  Shepard updated her report and forwarded it to Anderson.  She was careful to leave out the Cerberus data, framing the visit as a natural extrapolation of their encounters with the extremists and the derelict ship.  Briefly, she considered CCing Admiral Hackett as well, but that seemed playing a little too close to the bone.  Getting caught wasn’t part of her deal with Kyle.

The clock was approaching 2200 hours.  Shepard welcomed the prospect of an early evening.  The nightmares were as bad as ever, but the hope of a good night’s rest never died.  However, just as she was slipping her shirt over her head, the overhead speaker came to life.  It was Serviceman Santos, the third watch comm officer.  “Commander, you have an incoming transmission from the _SSV Kilimanjaro._ ”

Her mood immediately soured.  “I’ll call her back.”

“You’ve already rescheduled three times, ma’am.”  Santos was almost scolding.  “She’s your mother.”

An inkling entered Shepard’s mind.  “Do you have children, Serviceman?”

“Two teenagers, back on Earth.  I’d never hear from them either if their father didn’t drag them to the comm.”

“You’re out of line.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Santos said, without a trace of remorse.  “But am I wrong?”

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose for a long moment.  “Put her through to my cabin.”

“Yes, Commander.”

She replaced the shirt and settled in front of the terminal, squaring her shoulders and steeling herself.  They’d talk for a few minutes so Hannah could feel she dispensed her motherly responsibilities, and then she could go to bed.  It didn’t have to be acrimonious.  All she had to do was keep her mouth shut.

Hannah’s face materialized on the screen.  She broke into a smile.  “Nathaly.  I’m so glad we’re finally getting a chance to catch up.”

_Finally._ Of course, right out of the gate she had to offer a critique.  Shepard could not entirely repress a testy glare.  “I’ve been busy, mom.”

“I- I realize that.”  Hannah seemed genuinely taken aback.  “I didn’t mean to imply-“

Shepard’s cheeks colored.  She took a breath, chagrined, and tried to dial it down a notch.  Being on the defensive with her mother was as natural as breathing.  “It’s okay.  I’m sorry.  I only meant- I don’t know what I meant.”

Her eyes narrowed.  “Is everything alright?

“Yes.”  Then she sagged a bit in her chair, because it was getting late and that was a bold-faced lie.  She rested her elbows on the desk and cupped her chin in her palms.  “No.  Everything’s a complete mess.”

There was a moment’s pause.  Hannah asked, tentatively, “Would you like to talk about it?”

The offer was as strange as it was discomfiting.  Shepard hadn’t confided with her mother on a regular basis since she was in grade school.  But after Noveria, she had parents on the brain.  Liara’s mother died before they ever got a chance to reconcile.  Not only that, but the similarities between Tali’s situation with her father and Shepard’s relationship with Hannah, and even the way a part of her envied Kaidan his cookie-baking, overprotective mother, gave her pause.  It made her want to give things another shot.

“I have no idea where Saren is.”  It was the first time she’d said it aloud.  She kept going before she could lose her nerve.  “I don’t know what he’s planning, I don’t know where he’ll strike next, and somewhere out there, somebody is going to pay the price for me not being smarter.”

Hannah opened her mouth, closed it, frowned, and then spoke.  “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

“I’m trying to tell you-“

“Only I saw you rubbing your head quite a lot during the ceremonies on Arcturus.”  Hannah was torn between scolding and worry.

Shepard was baffled.  “I was?”  And then another question, even more confused.  “You watched that?”

“I watch every time you’re on the news.”  Her mother seemed surprised she’d question it. 

Shepard floundered, a touch gobsmacked.  Hannah wore the ghost of a smile.  “I may bleed Alliance blue, but it doesn’t mean I take any joy in the navy sending my daughter into combat with a cracked skull.”

“There wasn’t any choice.  No other ship was could get close enough to the asteroid without alerting Ba- the batarians.”  She swallowed, and extended a little more trust.  “Nathan Laine was there.  He worked on that assignment for six months to figure out what they were planning, and he was hell on me the whole day, but in the end I got the all the credit.”

“What did he do to you?”  Hannah was at a loss.  “I know you told your father, some of it at least, because the last time I was home he was positively rabid.  You were such good friends.  Surely there’s some way to reconcile.”

Shepard looked away.  “Are you saying that because you care, or are you saying that because for years you’ve thought Laine was your only chance to get grandchildren?”

It was a very cynical remark.  In and out of spec ops, people who knew them both always put them together.  The truth was Shepard never felt an ounce of attraction to Laine; despite similarities and circumstances that seemed almost tailored to provoke it, that essential spark failed to develop.  And Laine himself had no use for relationships or romance.  But facts seldom stopped gossip.

Her mother went on as though she hadn’t spoken.  “We were scared to death, your father and I, when you were lost last year.  Of course the navy told us you were on a long-duration assignment, of course that was the official explanation, but you only expected to be gone a week at most.  We could read between the lines.”

“I can’t talk about it.”  And Shepard wasn’t sure if she meant because it was classified, or because she quite literally could not speak of it.

Hannah licked her lips and looked at the ceiling.  “I always knew, intellectually, that your life was very dangerous, but I was able to pretend otherwise.  And then you got made a spectre and suddenly everything you do is advertised on three hundred channels all across the galaxy.  I can’t ignore it anymore.”

There was naked honesty in what she said, and suddenly the utter lack of customary criticism that had Shepard so off balance made some sense.  She didn’t know what to say.  “I’m sorry.  I never meant to worry you.”

“Nathaly.”  Hannah expelled her name as a sigh, mingled worry and laughter and so many years of butting heads.  “Don’t apologize.  God help me, but you were born for this.  Even when you were a little girl, you had a drive and resolve far beyond your years.  You could do anything you set your mind to- the only problem was getting your mind set on something worthwhile.”

Shepard laughed despite herself, because it was true, and her mother laughed with her, part chagrin and part affection.  “I know that you’ll manage.  You always do.  And God doesn’t care how much this gift of yours frightens your family.  I guess he thought we were strong enough for it, too.”

“I wish I was that sure.”

“You are the only daughter I will ever have,” she said soberly.  “And regardless of anything else between us, I have loved you and known you since you were two faint lines on a plastic stick.  You can’t tell me what’s what.”

She gave her mother a mortified look, familiar to all children who are finding their parents embarrassing in a faintly comforting way, and Hannah snickered.  “What, trying to imagine your old mother with a pregnancy test?”

Shepard made a sound of disbelief.  “Trying to imagine having enough free time to feel happy about it.”

“Well, you’re young yet.  Someday life may be less exciting.” 

She rubbed her nose and changed the subject.  “How are you?  Scuttlebutt is pretty bad for the rest of the fleet.”

“There are geth assaults all across the Terminus.  Most are raiding parties.  They’re not interested in occupation.  It’s almost like they’re looking for something.”

“They are.  Somethings would be more accurate.”  Shepard thought of all the Prothean artifacts Saren dug up in his unrelenting quest for the Conduit.

“And I don’t suppose you can tell me what those somethings are.”

Shepard shook her head.  “No.  Some of it really is sensitive.”

Hannah sighed.  “You can’t blame me for asking.  All my crew wants to know is where the geth will strike next, and when the war might be over.  A lot of them come from these colonies.  It’s their homes and families at risk.”

“A lot of mine, too.”  Shepard didn’t have any better answers.  “There’s a part of this that isn’t making the news.”

Her mother tilted her head.  “And what is that?”

“I don’t want to talk about it over an open comm line.”  She bit her lip.  “If this doesn’t work, things are going to get a whole lot worse.  The geth are just the opening act.”

  
“You mean if Saren finds what he’s seeking.”

She nodded.  Hannah shrugged.  “This is life.  We’ll stop his armies, or we won’t, but it’s never over so long as there’s someone left to draw breath.  Us humans are a tenacious lot.”

That roused a chuckle, and Hannah segued into one of her anecdotes.  For once, Shepard didn’t mind.  It was as comforting as a bedtime story.  They gossiped a bit about the family, her aunts, uncles, cousins and their children.  The war caught everyone, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any humor to be found.  Her father apparently nearly threw the technician from the ventilation company out of his house, and it took a scolding from Hannah to right things.  Now that it was installed, however, a body would think it was Paul’s idea, the way he went on about it. 

Shepard told her about Dahlia and the _Fedele_.  Her mother tried to make expressions of sympathy, but by the time Shepard got to the acidic newts, she could no longer contain herself.  Her daughter’s protests that it wasn’t really that funny only encouraged her laughter.  By the time she got to the vorcha, they were both laughing.

Her mother’s chuckle faded into a long, contented sigh.  “We really need to do this more than every few months.”

“I’m glad we finally caught each other off-duty.”  Shepard folded her arms across her desk, surprised to mean it, and suppressed a yawn.  It was getting later by the second.

“I should let you go,” Hannah said, catching her mood.

Shepard licked her lips, hesitantly.  The strangely good conversation, the best they had in ten years, lent her some bravery.  “Before you do, could I ask you something?”

“Anything you like.”

“You told me once that when you met dad, you were both serving on the same ship.”

“That’s right.”  Hannah rolled her eyes.  “He was the most loud-mouthed, recalcitrant corporal I think I’ve ever met.  At first I couldn’t get him to do anything without being sassed.  Shows you how people can change.”

“How did you… handle that?” Shepard asked, delicately.  “I mean, officially.”

“We were honest about it.  When things got serious, I informed my C.O. and she told me Paul would be removed from my command, which at that time meant transfer to another ship.  Then she shook my hand and offered her congratulations.” 

It sounded way too easy.  “Just like that?”

She shrugged.  “The Alliance isn’t stupid.  They know they can’t control how two people feel about each other.  They settle for controlling how we’re allowed to respond to our feelings, so that the mission isn’t disrupted by affairs of the heart, or old grudges for that matter.  Why are you asking me about this?”

Shepard shook her head, to all appearances nonchalant.  “It’s nothing.  I just realized I’d never asked, and I was curious.  Dad doesn’t talk much about people.  Just ships.”

“Alright.”  Hannah sounded as if she didn’t quite believe her.  “Goodnight, Nathaly.”

“Goodnight.”

The terminal went dark.


	44. The Mining Hauler

Commander Shepard waited for the clock to reach 1100 hours Citadel Standard, and approached Bakari in the CIC.  Liara and Tali had their analysis programs chewing away at Kyle’s data, but so far there were no leads more specific than the Voyager Cluster, which consisted of three systems with over fifteen planets shared between them, and countless asteroids and other small bodies.  And that was assuming Cerberus hadn’t built a space station for a research platform.  Explaining weeks of fruitless scanning to the Council and Alliance brass alike when she couldn’t say the word “Cerberus” was a headache Shepard didn’t need.

In the meantime, Anderson had something to keep them busy.  He sent an email late last night requesting she contact him for further details.

Bakari started shaking his head before she was halfway through the order.  “No can do, ma’am.  We have a priority transmission from Admiral Hackett live right now.”

“Admiral Hackett?  Why wasn’t I informed?”

He cleared his throat.  “The transmission was for Lieutenant Alenko, ma’am.”

“Lieutenant Alenko?” Her brow furrowed.  “What was it regarding?”

“I couldn’t say.  They’ve been in there for ten minutes already.”

“Thank you.”  She started towards the comm room, and paused.  “If this happens again, alert me.  I don’t care who it’s for.  All command calls go through me.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

She made for the comm room at breakneck speed.  There was no good reason for Hackett to circumvent her command to speak to anyone aboard ship.  That wasn’t how it was supposed to work.  Even if he did need to talk to Alenko, the order should have flowed through her.

As she approached the hatch, raised voices could be heard inside- Alenko’s, worried and confused, and Hackett’s cold, leaden fury.

“-fifteen when that happened, sir,” Alenko was saying.  “It wasn’t malicious.  I only wanted to send an email to my parents that wasn’t censored to hell and back.”

Hackett was unmoved by his protests.  “You’re an experienced officer of this navy.  You know a legitimate order when you hear one.  Tell me about ten days ago.”

Ten days ago was Arcturus.  Shepard tagged the touchpad and strode into the room like a storm front.  “What in the hell is going on here?”

Both Alenko and Hackett’s hologram turned to regard her.  Alenko held himself stiffly, hands laced behind his back, his expression equal parts panicked and bewildered.  Hackett wore a visage of stone.  She stopped beside Kaidan and glanced from one man to the other, awaiting an explanation.

Hackett spoke first.  “Lieutenant Commander Shepard.  Your presence is neither requested nor desired.”

“Since when it is Alliance procedure to interrogate officers without the presence of their C.O.?”  Shepard was beyond angry, and she still had no idea what was going on.

“I am attempting to get to the bottom of a very serious crime.”  Hackett’s blue eyes blazed.  Even the washed out hologram could not suppress it.  “When it is assumed that the commanding officer was complicit in the subordinate’s actions, naturally, one wishes to question them separately.”

She was floored, her confusion genuine.  “What?”

The admiral glanced down to consult a datapad.  “Ten days past, between 1500 and 1900 hours, a computer server classified at the highest level suffered a massive data breach.  Terabytes of reports and analyses on the insurrectionists calling themselves Cerberus were stolen via an insufficiently secured access port aboard Arcturus Station.”

Shepard was never as grateful for her poker face as at that moment.  She didn’t deadpan, which would give away her guilt immediately, but her outrage continued at the same level as before.  “What makes you believe my crew had anything to do with that?”

“Because shortly thereafter, you made a visit to the commune headed by the retired Major Kyle.  Given your persistent interest in these particular terrorists, I can’t think of any other reason to draw your attention there.”  Hackett shifted his gaze back to Alenko.  “And your lieutenant has some experience in hacking into Alliance servers.”

Her stomach sank.  It never occurred to her what an investigator, unfamiliar with her alien crew, might assume if the theft were discovered.  She searched for a way out and took a wild leap.  “Email servers connected to the extranet.  Not highly secured databases stuffed full of Alliance secrets.”

Alenko threw her a grateful look.  She squared her shoulders and turned again to Hackett.  She was angry with him for being altogether too cunning, and at herself for allowing her extracurricular activities to spill over to Kaidan, who was blameless.  She wasn’t about to allow the brass to pin this on him.  “Do you have any evidence for these accusations other than rampant speculation, sir?”

And she held her breath, hoping Tali was as good as she thought, and truly hadn’t left a trail.  Hackett’s face reddened.  She took that as a good sign.  But when he spoke, it was with a perilous, patient calm.  “Our inquiry is ongoing.  Rest assured, I will have the truth of this.”

“I hope so, sir.”  Her disdain implied an ironclad belief that the truth would only exonerate them.   And as far as Kaidan was concerned, Shepard was that certain.

The admiral was not impressed.  “But since you are here, Commander, there is another subject I wish to raise.”

“And what is that, sir?”

“You may be interested to hear that Ka'hairal Balak is awake and providing us with quite timely information on the activities of the Hegemony.”

The color drained from Shepard’s face.

“Balak’s alive?” Alenko burst out, shocked out of protocol.  He caught himself and straightened.  “Apologies, sir.  I was simply… surprised.”

A sidelong look at Shepard followed that declaration.  Her heart felt like it was trying to pump molasses.  She stared ahead.

“One sympathizes,” Hackett said, dryly.  “Officially, Commander, his injuries were sustained during the firefight.  I warned you not to make this personal.”

She swallowed.  “Sir-“

“I didn’t give you permission to speak.”  Hackett’s anger was clinical, as implacable and deadly as a virus.  “I warned you.  In fact, I _ordered_ you to maintain professionalism, just like I ordered you to drop your inquiry into Cerberus.  You assured me it would not be a problem.  Instead, I’ve had to spend medical resources and the time of skilled men and women to keep alive a batarian terrorist thanks to your utter lack of any quality with a passing resemblance to self-control.  Do you know, Commander, how hard it is to properly and secretly secure such a prisoner in a hospital facility?”

A muscle twitched on her face. Anger, shame, and apprehension churned together in her stomach, curdling together like milk and juice.

He waited a few moments, as if testing whether she would once again defy orders to defend herself.  “You’re the only spectre we’ve got, god help us, and I can’t make an example of you without negating the goodwill from saving Terra Nova no matter how you shame the uniform.  This war with the geth has cost the navy dearly when it comes to public support and reputation.  But what happened with Balak will _never_ happen again or I will personally fly you to Vancouver to await court martial.  On this, you get one pass.  Do I make myself clear, Commander?”

“Perfectly, sir.”

He punched the disconnect.  “Hackett out.”

The holo faded, leaving the room quite dark.  It was a long moment before she could bring herself to look at Kaidan.  His face was a solid mask.  He leaned forward, bracing himself against the railing guarding the transmission pads.

“Balak’s alive?” he repeated, in a monotone.

There was no point in denying it.  “Yes.  But you need to understand-”

Alenko interrupted, “What did you do to him, Nathaly?”

Shepard knew if Kaidan ever discovered this part of what happened on X-57, it would be awful, but the coldness in his eyes was beyond imagination.  She squared her shoulders and went with the simplest version of the truth.  “After Balak surrendered, I shot him several times, and then secured him in a locked storage room at the back of the facility.”  A shaky breath.  “Also, I put out his eye, but in fairness that did happen during the fight, not after.”

But she’d known how batarians felt about eyes when she targeted his.

“You tortured him,” he clarified, flatly.  “And then you left him to die.”

“It wasn’t like that-“

“Then what was it like?  Please, tell me the part I’m overlooking.”

Shepard glanced away, wrapping her arms about herself, feeling very alone.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

  
Her eyes searched his.  “Kaidan, please-“

“Don’t.  Just… don’t.”  He looked away, knuckles tightening on the railing.  “The computer stuff Hackett grilled me over.  That was Tali, right?  You had her hack the Cerberus data because nobody would give you access.  Please tell me, at least, that wasn’t the reason we went to the station.”

“It wasn’t the reason we went to the station.”  The declaration hung in the air.  It didn’t seem to make much difference. 

Shepard licked her lips.  He shook his head. “Laine told me before he left that I didn’t know you at all.  Maybe he was right.”

Her stomach contracted into a tight, spiky wad, pricking at her other organs.  She wanted to tell him to wait, but her mouth couldn’t form the words.

He brushed past and left her standing alone in the darkened comm room.  There was a dull buzzing in her ears.

After several minutes, Bakari broke the silence over the comm.  “Commander, I have Captain Anderson standing by.”

She put her hand to her mouth, which was very dry.  Her gut was in full rebellion.  She took a deep breath to steady it.

Bakari cleared his throat. “Ma’am?”

Shepard closed her eyes and methodically locked away the last ten minutes, reaching into the same reserves she tapped during trauma and emergencies.  Usually, it wasn’t quite so much of an effort, but the technique worked all the same.  By the time she opened them, she was calm enough to handle the conversation.  “Put him through.”

Anderson’s image appeared behind the rail.  “Shepard.”

It was difficult to focus with every instinct screaming to go after Kaidan, to make peace, to try to explain, but with a severe application of will she answered him evenly.  The mission came first.  It always did. A part of her hated it. “What can I do for you, sir?”

If he noticed her state, he either ignored it or didn’t care.  “We’ve had a problem out in the Maroon Sea.  Caspian System.”

“What sort of problem?”

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard stared out the port overlooking the expanse of interstellar space between the Caspian and Matano systems.  A trade route flowed through here, or had, up until several weeks ago.  Since then, not a single ship made it through this corridor.

Their mission was simple.  Investigate, and if possible, terminate the disturbance.  Anderson was certain it related to the geth.  Shepard was not so sure.

“We are running silent,” Joker announced as they dropped out of FTL.  Deciding where to slow to subluminal velocity was a hard call.  They needed to be close enough to approach in a reasonable amount of time, but far enough that the brief flare of the ship’s signature before the IES engaged would be disregarded as noise by any hostile ladar.

“ETA?” Shepard asked.

“Three hours, ma’am.”  Joker swiped aside the ship controls and brought up an array of sensor output.  “But we’ve already got a mess here.”

She scrutinized the data.  There was a host of ships, maybe twelve in all, drifting aimlessly like jumbled toys.  “Any distress calls?”

“No, ma’am.”  He shifted in his seat.  “No identification either, though some of them are the right size to be Anderson’s missing merchant ships.  There’s no order to it.  They’re just… lost.”

She stared at the blips on the screen, feeling a chill creep up her spine.  Merchant freighters weren’t tiny pleasure craft piloted by the unskilled adventurous rich.  They had professional crews and holds that could swallow the whole of her ship, not to mention they lugged enough in a year to pay for it several times over.  “This is fucking creepy.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.”

The scanner swept through another refresh.  She straightened.  “Alright.  Continue the approach, but be cautious.  This is some sort of trap.  I don’t want it to snag us like it did them.”

“Roger that.”  Joker returned the controls to their proper place, scrutinizing their readings.  Shepard patted the back of his chair and made her way to the CIC.

“Pressly,” she said.

The navigator looked up from his work and addressed her smartly.  “Ma’am.”

“Assemble the ranking officers in the comm room.  We need to formulate a plan.”  She turned to Specialist Lowe, who was manning the comm.  “I want a direct feed from our scanners.”

“Aye aye, Commander.”  Lowe’s hands flew over the terminal as she established the necessary connections.  Pressly acknowledged the order and began issuing instructions.  Shepard retreated to the comm room to wait.

Within ten minutes, she had her quorum.  Real time data blinked across the room’s screens.  They were as ready as they could be for this discussion.

Alenko was the last to show up.  The chairs of the comm room were arranged in a horseshoe fashion and he claimed a seat halfway around the bend, about as far from her as he could sit.  Though he had said nothing and done nothing, from where Shepard stood at the front, his weight distorted the room.  They hadn’t spoken since the morning with Hackett.  She tried to find him a few times, while they traveled to the system, but somehow he was never where she looked.

_I am the commander of this ship_ , she told herself firmly.  _My captain gave me an order and I will carry it out, as will everyone else aboard.  Right now that’s all that matters._

She cleared her throat and started in.  “The first ship, the _MSV Cornucopia_ , disappeared almost a month ago.  Just another trade ship that encountered disaster somewhere in the void.  Statistically, this happens at a low but reliable rate.”

Anderson had given her a boatload of statistics.  This wasn’t an observed catastrophe.  It was an implied one.  “In the weeks following the _Cornucopia’s_ loss, there was a sharp uptick in ships not reaching port.  And a few days ago, a low-ranking analyst back on Earth put each of these isolated incidents together and realized they were all happening here.”

She gestured at the screen.  “The Maroon Sea, at a gravitational bottleneck between two stars.  It forces traders in this sector to follow this route to conserve fuel, and apparently something was waiting for them.”

“Do we have any idea what we’re looking at?”  Garrus sat close to the front, leaning towards the screen.  At some point his experience began to outweigh the fact that he wasn’t Alliance, and they included him in strategy sessions.  Wrex had even more experience, but Shepard found his “shoot first and keep shooting” approach unproductive for forward planning.

“Anderson thinks it’s more geth activity,” she said.

“You disagree?”

“It’s not their M.O.”  She shook her head.  “The geth’s only known stake in this war is the return of the reapers.  In that capacity, they’ve stormed worlds to help Saren identify information pertinent to finding the Conduit.  The most common goods flowing through this sector are raw materials in one direction, tech and supplies in the other.  It’s unlikely any of it relates to their goals.”

Alenko shrugged.  “Maybe they dug up something.  Maybe Saren found out.”

His eyes were fixed on the data, his voice carefully uninflected.  He still hadn’t looked at her.  She pushed the thought away.  “It’s possible, but everyone knows the value of Prothean tech, and the penalties that come with hiding or damaging it.  If one of the corporations had found something, their first act would be to report it.”

Adams rubbed his chin.  “Just because it’s risky doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be sellers, or buyers, ma’am.  Or traitors.  What do you think Saren would pay?  He offers them a deal, and then once he knows it’s on the way, attacks the ship instead.”

“No,” Pressly said, his mouth pressed into a line.  “The involvement of Prothean tech in this mission hasn’t been widely advertised.”

Shepard agreed.  “There’s also no reason to attack a dozen ships and give away the game if you know which one you want.”

Garrus brought them back to the point.  “For the moment, we have to assume it’s the geth.”

“I don’t want to assume anything.”  Shepard glanced again at the scans.  “If we don’t hear a distress call or chatter as we get closer, and if we can safely navigate through this muck, I want to board the _Cornucopia_ and conduct a post mortem.  It’s the largest ship as well as the first to scuttle.  Since we don’t know what we’ll find, we need to be prepared for the worst.”

Alenko spoke again.  “Aren’t you concerned that we might get caught by whatever did this?  Or is this mission not foolhardy enough to suit you?”

He was watching her at last, with a kind of smoldering insolence that was that was so atypical of his demeanor that it was like he was wearing someone else’s clothes.  A few others in the room turned to stare.  He didn’t seem to care. 

Her eyes narrowed.  “If you’re concerned about a weapon, Lieutenant, the only objects on our scanners are civilian ships, and even if we’ve missed something, the stealth system should keep us from triggering an automated offense.”

“I’d just hate to send my people into a situation blind, Commander, because we didn’t think through what we were doing.”

The way he tossed it out made it clear that it did not originate from a genuine place of concern for the proposed mission.  This was about getting caught up in her decision to scrape the Cerberus data.  She spoke through gritted teeth.  “Noted.  Was there anything else?”

“No, ma’am.”  He sat back and crossed his arms, his legs sprawled out in front of him.  The honorific was drawled like an insult.

“Right.”  She turned her attention back to the group, shutting out the surprised looks as she simply ignored Alenko’s jabs.  “I want a plan for each of your areas in the next two hours.  Adams, I need a way to dock with an uncooperative and potentially tumbling ship.  Alenko, work with Garrus to come up with a boarding strategy.  Pressly, keep massaging the data and see if we can tease out any probable cause, or hallmarks that might help us identify the assailant or their methods.  Any questions?”

There were headshakes and “no ma’ams”, and they began to trickle out.  As Alenko got up, she said, “Not you.”

His glare could have ignited uranium.  When they were alone, she continued, “You’re pissed at me.  Ok.  Maybe you have cause-“

“Maybe?” he interjected, in utter disbelief.  “Do you know how hard I’ve worked to be trusted by command?  Do you know how many biotics enlisted before me?  Twelve.  _Twelve_ , in the entire navy.  After ten years I got assigned to this ship, cutting edge, top secret, and I knew I’d finally gotten there.  And then you go and-“

“Why do you think I asked Tali instead of you?”  She crossed her arms.  “The navy can’t touch her.  She doesn’t have a career to fuck up, and she can travel freely.”

“How’s that working out for you?” he shot back. 

She looked away. “Hackett doesn’t have anything yet.  I don’t think he ever will, but if he does, I’ll tell him the truth.”

“Just because Tali is too naïve to tell you no doesn’t mean I want her to pay for your arrogance.”

That gave her pause.  Just like she hadn’t fully thought through the repercussions of getting caught, it never occurred to her that Kaidan might take the fall to shield Tali.  But of course he would.  He’d never allow a friend to be hurt if there was anything he could do to stop it.  His loyalty was ironclad.

She licked her lips and glanced back at him.  He noticed the gesture, and something like smug satisfaction flashed across his face.  Her nascent guilt consolidated into anger.

“I don’t care what your problem is.”  She took a step towards him. “You keep it out of this room.  Berate me all you like off-duty, but on the clock, you will remember who is in charge.”

“You’re the boss.”

That merely increased her irritation.  “You can’t accuse me of endangering us and then turn around and do the same thing by acting like a brat.”

“It won’t be a problem,” he said curtly, and turned to leave.  “I’m not the one who feels entitled to special consideration when it comes to regs.”

Shepard couldn’t resist a parting shot at his back.  “What, no jab this time about letting Balak die the hard way?  Or do you think geth are unlikely to succumb to torture?”

He made a sound of disbelief, and held up his hand, warding her off.  “I am not nearly ready to talk about that with you.”

The self-righteous fury poured out of her in one great deluge, and left her cold.  He walked away without a backwards glance.

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard was not particularly fond of Adams’ scheme to get them aboard the _Cornucopia_.

Neither was Williams, apparently.  “We’re not really going to do this, ma’am. Are we?”

They were arrayed along the _Normandy’s_ fuselage, one hard-suited figure every meter or so, waiting, as the two ships drifted ever closer.  Joker hadn’t liked the plan either.  _Cornucopia_ dwarfed the frigate, one of the largest merchant vessels of its kind, a behemoth intended for hauling thousands of tons of raw ore from the outer reaches of the Traverse.  Even accounting for _Normandy’s_ military-grade kinetic barriers, their ship would not emerge the victor in the event of a collision.  And _Cornucopia’s_ propulsion was completely offline, causing the ship to spin slowly at different rates along all three axes.

But Joker would never call any maneuver too complicated if he thought there was the slightest chance of pulling it off.  The marines were tensed and ready as they awaited the signal.

Their pilot came on the radio.  “We’re set, Commander.”

“On my mark,” she called.

Along the line, a dozen people drew out a few meters of thin, strong cable from a coil in their hand.  Each length was tipped with a small magnet strong enough to lift several tons.  Overkill, for this exercise.

“Three, two, one,” Shepard counted evenly, watching the larger ship’s hull slide past them.  “Go!”

As one, they flung their cables towards the ship.  She was pleased when each caught on the first try.  They tugged them to ensure their security, and kicked away from the _Normandy_. 

The massive inertia of the _Cornucopia_ seized Shepard as soon as her magboots disconnected.  The ship’s rotation flung her in an arc as her cable began to wind about its hull.  Luckily, it wasn’t fast, but her team made haste as they pulled themselves along.  Nobody wanted to be smacked into the metal hull.  Similarly, they clung tightly to the carbon fiber cables, as losing their grip would shoot them into the void at appreciable speed.  The field was crowded not only with ships, but other cast-off dross, pieces of garbage torn off in collisions and shed by the unfamiliar stress induced by the ships’ chaotic spins.  It would make finding a marine lost among the junk a complicated task, to say nothing of rescuing them.  Just navigating the _Normandy_ to _Cornucopia’s_ side was a hair-raising endeavor.

She breathed a sigh of relief as her boots made contact and clamped tightly to the metal.  She respooled the cable and secured it to her utility belt before standing straight, poking out from the hull like a blade of grass.  “Is everyone secure?”

A chorus of “yes, ma’ams” answered.  She nodded, pleased.  “Easy does it.  The hatch should be a few dozen meters ahead.”

The rotation was disorienting, but not debilitating.  They staggered in a drunken line towards the entrance.  Once inside, the artificial gravity and momentum dampeners should eliminate any perception of the spin- assuming they were still online.  If not, they were in for an interesting time.

Shepard was midway down the pack and arrived at the hatch correspondingly.  Alenko and another of the marines, Private Saldana, already crouched beside the lock, deep in discussion.  Saldana nodded and pulled a wad of gray gum from a pouch.

Alenko stood.  “Fire in the hole!”

“Clear the hatch!” Shepard emphasized, waving back the rest of their group.  Saldana set the paste into the hatch pull and scrambled away. 

An explosion in vacuum didn’t have the spreading power of one in atmo, but the sharp crack came up through their boots and flung the hatch wide.  It struck the hull with sufficient force to shear off the hinges.  It pinwheeled into space. 

Shepard led the team into the dark interior.  It was a touch unusual for the commanding officer to be out in front, but if she were being honest, Jenkins’ death still weighed on her mind, along with Ash’s injury, just the latest of many others.  She was tired of losing people and she trusted herself above everyone else to avoid a sudden attack.

Williams and Garrus were at her back, followed by the remainder of the marine detail, with Alenko securing their rear.  He fell into the position without being asked.  Somebody experienced needed to do it, she knew, but she also couldn’t help but feel that he volunteered to put as much distance between them as possible.  Whenever their eyes happened to meet, there remained a stubborn anger in his that felt like looking into a pistol barrel, right down to the indignation and thrill of uncertainty that came whenever someone shoved a gun in her face.

He had a right to be angry with her; she knew that, too.  Even if it was the furthest thing from her intentions, her actions had the potential to profoundly impact his reputation and career.  But she had a sneaking feeling that no matter how he ranted, what she did with Balak bothered him a lot more, specifically because he wasn’t speaking of it.  There was logic to breaching the classified server, justified by the mission, while there was no acceptable reason for torturing the batarian.  In hindsight, Shepard herself wasn’t certain why she’d done it, only that at the time she needed it more than anything in the world.  In fact there was hardly anything she’d done in the last year that made any damn sense at all.

The hatch led to a gantry high above the ship’s hold.  The crates of cargo were still intact, stacked four tiers high in the massive bay.  If Shepard were so inclined, she could have leapt from the path onto the nearest stack.  The quiet was pervasive and unsettling.  Every little creak of the suspended metal walkway was met with apprehension.  When they spoke, the words were muted, and not just by the atmosphere.  The blackness seemed to smother them.

Halfway across the hold, the path split.  It was too dark to predict where port and starboard led.  They came to a halt as Shepard weighed her luck. 

There was a hush to the group that was more than prudent silence.  Private Saldana twisted in place, shining his flashlight at the walls, the ceiling, down to the floor far below which it was incapable of illuminating.  His breath came in ragged bursts.

“Stop that,” Williams hissed, though it was an order.  The marine was in danger of giving away their position.

The light stilled.  He swallowed audibly.  “Sorry, gunny.  I don’t like it here.”

_Me neither_ , thought Shepard.  The dark here was more than the mere absence of light.  It had an oppressive quality that roused her gut instinct and put her on the defensive.  Maybe it was simply the mystery of what happened here, so many ships disabled without obvious signs of a fight, so many crew simply gone, or maybe not.  She activated her comm.  “Shepard to _Normandy_.  Any luck on scanning the ship?  I could sure use a layout.”

Static was the only response.  She tried again.  “Shepard to _Normandy_.  Do you read?”

Again, no reply.  She cursed.  “Shit.”

Garrus shifted his weight behind her.  “Something’s jamming communications?”

“Apparently.”

His voice was dry.  “Now where have we seen that before?”

Her mind leapt to the geth jamming tower on Feros, though her head gave a stubborn shake of negation.  It still didn’t feel like the geth.  She didn’t like the idea that their tactics could still surprise her. 

“Starboard,” she decided, figuring one way was as good as the other, for now.  The team moved ahead.

The suspended walkway wandered further into the hold, leading to a control pod hanging from the ceiling, overlooking the cargo bay.  The hatch was shut and there was a faint noise, like feet scuffling, from within the room.  Shepard held up her hand, a non-verbal order to halt, and a further gesture caused her team to ready weapons and set into a firing position, staggered to avoid friendly interference.  Shepard drew up against the side of the pod and tagged the hatch.

An unholy sound filled the air- a groaning, whining, noxious howl torn from hollow throats.  And then it was drowned out by rifle fire as her team pounded the room.

The metallic hail wasn’t enough for the number of creatures within.  Husks streamed through the hatch on their bowed, shambling legs, gangly arms swinging wide arcs across the narrow path, mouths gaping with teeth limned by electric blue.  They were too close for guns to be of much use.  Shepard clubbed the nearest one with the butt of her rifle and snapped its neck under her boot as it hit the floor with a meaty thump.

Along the walkway, her squad was caught up in the fight, grappling and shooting when they could.  A bullet winged past Shepard’s head and buried in the bulkhead.  There was shouting, and cries of pain where the husks gained the upper hand.  No such sounds came from the husks; they were mindless and immune to fear.  Shepard drew her pistol and sunk two shots into the back of the nearest.  At that range, she hit the spine with ease.  The creature twitched and fell.

Williams shoved one bodily over the safety rail.  She raised her rifle, aiming behind the commander.  “Skipper!”

She was only halfway through the turn when the geth flung itself onto her, wrapping its legs around her hips and flailing at her with its arms.  She bashed its head with the butt of her pistol.  The attack collapsed part of its skull, but the forceful hit also caused her finger to jerk against the trigger.  The wild shot severed one of the cables hoisting the walkway.  It lurched alarmingly.

With a grunt, she hurled the creature off her.  It smacked against the bulkhead, and Shepard wasted no time shooting it.  She whirled and aimed into the mass of husks and marines, but she couldn’t get a clear shot.  So instead, she waded into the fray. 

The gantry was rocking back and forth, swinging wildly with a worrying groan of metal.  Private Chase was flat on her back, struggling to keep the long-fingered hands of her attacker off her neck.  They were deceptively strong.  Shepard seized it by the waist and hauled, freeing her marine, and pivoted smoothly.  The husk collided with the bulkhead and scrabbled at the grated floor with its feet.  The bolts securing the walkway to the control room pod, already under severe strain from the shaking, screamed as they wrenched loose.

It pushed off the wall and flew at her, its maw snapping at her face.  The fizz of ozone filled the air, a side effect of the electric lines shifting across the husks’ skin, obvious so close to her nose.  Its dirty nails dug into the armor webbing at her shoulder, and the long-healed wound from Therum rose like a vengeful ghost as the scar tissue tore.  Shepard staggered.

It was enough to throw her husk assailant off-balance.  Together, they fell to the floor and rolled towards the pod.  The walkway gave another lurch.

Shepard floundered for a handhold, anything to drag herself to her feet.  She caught a suspension wire.  Somehow her pistol was still in her hand.  She shot at the husk and missed, courtesy of the wild swaying of the platform.  Garrus lurched towards her to offer assistance.

The husk regrouped, hissing, and launched itself a second time.  She stumbled back against the wire.  It was too much; the rocking of the gantry was beyond what one thin steel strand now holding twice its allotted weight could withstand, or rather, beyond what the bolt anchoring it to the ceiling could bear.  With a screech it parted ways with the bulkhead.  The cable went slack and started to fall.

The suspended path was soundly engineered.  At this weak point, the orphaned end where it transitioned to the control pod, there were three anchor points- two cables, and the pod itself.  The engineers were cautious.  So long as one of the three remained, the walkway segment would hold. 

But now, all three were gone.

With the kind of slow motion that always comes hand-in-hand with inevitable disasters, the segment began to tilt towards the floor.  The path itself wasn’t much; a flimsy pipe rail, mesh flooring, a few lightweight girders to keep it level.  The weight of the husk, human, and turian was not enough to bend the girders outright.  However, the weak point was where this section connected to the next, by two five millimeter bolts intended to hold the suspended platforms flush, not provide structural support.  They bent.  With aching slowness, as Shepard lunged for the safety of the pod, they tore free of their sockets.

The walkway plunged towards the bottom of the hold.  The carpeted edge of the control pod slipped past her fingertips, rubbing them red like some kind of parting joke.  Shepard, Garrus, and the husk disappeared into the dark.

From the back of the squad, where the marines were swatting down the last of the husks like overgrown flies, Alenko saw a flash of red hair plummet past the edge of the gantry.  He pushed past two marines, leapt over several fallen husks, and scrambled to the end of the path on his knees.  “Shepard!”

He peered over the lip into the inky night.  “Shepard!  Garrus!”

The enormous bay and unnatural night swallowed his shouting.  Williams sent two rounds in the head of the final husk, which shuddered and went limp.  “L.T.?”

But when she saw the two-meter gap that now lay between them and the control pod, it was obvious what had occurred.  The remainder of the squad gathered around her.  Chase glanced down into the void.  “Shit.”

Alenko sat up and pressed his finger to his ear, trying the comm.  “Commander, do you read?”

There was utter silence.  Williams swallowed and looked back at him.  “It’s only a few stories down, and there’s cargo all the way to absorb the fall.  They could’ve survived.  Whatever’s jamming communications to the ship is probably jamming them too.”

It was a reasonable theory.  Or at least, it was enough to settle his racing heart and regain some measure of composure.  He took a deep, steadying breath and got to his feet.

The squad was quiet, waiting, anxious.  He glanced from one pinched face to the next and took a second breath.  He didn’t have the luxury of worry or regret right now, no matter how worried he was or how their last several conversations were starting to play through his ears like mocking laughter.  She was always like this- aggressive and reckless to a fault, never thinking about the consequences.  His rising anxiety was mixed liberally with anger, over this latest stunt, over her outright dismissal of any rule that got in her way, over the fact that he couldn’t stop imagining her as a pink smear on the floor.

He pushed it all aside and glanced at the control pod, the gap, and back the way they came.  Then he looked up at the ceiling, shining his flashlight, judging distance.  The roof was a tangle of corrugated metal and support girders.

“We can’t jump across,” he said.  “We can’t risk anyone else falling.  We go back the way we came and take the port side path.” 

Private Crosby shifted his weight uncertainly.  “But what about the commander and Vakarian, sir?”

“Our first priority is restoring power to the ship.  After that, we can search- if she hasn’t caught up to us yet.”  He gestured with his rifle, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded.  “Move out.”

/\/\/\/\/\

The trio fell freely for the first three meters or so.  Then the broken gantry section struck a stack of cargo and bounced them off in different directions.  Shepard didn’t see what happened to Garrus.  The husk’s arm, however, was firmly in her grasp.  She wasn’t about to lose track of an enemy in the dark.  Her arms locked the awful sprawling mess of a creature to her chest.

They struck another crate, the corner digging hard into Shepard’s back.  Her teeth knocked together.  Rolling further down the stack, the next tier crushed her arms between its unyielding surface and the husk.  The fourth tier caught them on the side and tossed them out into open air.

For an endless moment they sailed through the dark.  Her flashlight had long since gone out.  She had no warning when the hard floor came up to meet them and knocked all the air from her lungs.

She lay dazed for several seconds before she felt the husk attempting to move beneath her.  Purely on instinct she arched up and drove her fist into its head.  For all their strength and speed, husks were held together with spit and cobweb.  It splattered beneath her blow.

Shepard sat up fully, straddling the dead monster, her breath loud in her ears.  Her eyes scanned the blackness.  She had no idea where her pistol landed- nor her helmet, she noted, as she took rapid inventory.  It must have shaken free during the fall.

“Garrus?” she called out, swinging her head around.  Though she pitched her voice quite loud, it didn’t seem to project very far.  Almost like the darkness ate it the way it devoured their flashlight beams.  It was a cloak draped over her, just heavy enough to make her nervous.  She understood the hold was quite large but at this moment it seemed to shrink against her.

She shook it off and sprang to her feet, annoyed by the flash of superstition.  Shepard drew her rifle and smacked the flashlight until it flickered back into life.  “Garrus!”

A few paces deeper into the hold, she heard a low sigh and a scraping sound, like the shifting of debris. Her light flicked towards the noise.  He lay groaning beneath the fallen platform, attempting to raise himself up on his palms.  She swiftly set the rifle on the floor and helped drag it off him, and hauled him upright.

He dusted off his hardsuit, worse for wear though not seriously injured.  His lungs wheezed.  “That was unexpected.”

“You’re telling me.”  She retrieved the rifle and took another look around.  “We need to find a way off the floor.  Regroup with the others above.”

“Comm?” he asked.  They could hear nothing of the rest of the team from their current position.

She tried it, and shook her head.  “No joy.”

“We’ll do this the hard way then.”  He stretched his arms a bit and rolled his neck, moving everything back into place after the rough landing.  “Any idea which way to the elevator?”

“None.”  She sighed and started walking.

“I don’t like it here,” he said, after a few minutes.  “Something about it feels off.”

“Well, you were right about the geth, anyway.  It takes at least fifty to crew a ship like this, and from the looks of it, somebody sent all of them up on spikes to turn them into those things.”  Her mouth was a thin, grim line.  “That would unsettle any place.”

/\/\/\/\/\

“We’ve seen this hatch before, sir,” Williams stated.  Confusion and irritation elevated her tone. 

Alenko squatted by the hatch, brushing his gloved hand across the marks he started to leave once they realized that they’d been walking for two hours and still weren’t out of the cargo bay.  The _Cornucopia_ was large, but not that large.  “I know.”

It was the damnedest thing.  No matter what strategy they employed to find their way- marks, mapmaking, even a computer-aided localized coordinate grid centered on the ship’s long axis- somehow, they always ended up back where they started, with no explanation. 

“Orders, sir?” she asked, and the fact that it was the headstrong chief asking spoke volumes regarding the level of tension in the squad.  Everyone was on edge.  The incessant and seemingly inescapable wandering had them all unnerved. 

Alenko ran his hand over his hair.  “Take ten.  We need to stop reacting and think through this.”

Maybe some water and a little energy from their quick rations would help clear their heads.  He felt like his brain was wrapped in wool- overheated, fuzzy.  He sat back against the hatch and took a long swig from his own canteen as the team likewise knelt on the path and started ripping open protein bars. 

There was none of the easy camaraderie that came with most breaks on patrol.  Nor was there the hushed quiet of a typical recon mission, when they were concerned about alerting the enemy.  This was different.  The dark pressed in upon them and stopped their throats. 

Some of the marines were more profoundly affected than others.  Saldana hadn’t reached for any provisions.  Instead he rested on his heels, rocking slightly, folding and unfolding his pistol.  The slides weren’t clean.  It grated a bit with each repetition.  Between that and the electronic beep whenever it reached final configuration, it was starting to drive Alenko a bit crazy.

Apparently he wasn’t alone.  Draven practically snarled. “Would you stop fucking messing with your gun!”

“Be quiet!” hissed Daecher.  “Can’t you tell they’re listening?”

That caused Alenko to glance up with some concern.  “There’s nobody listening, Private.”

“Yes there is, sir.  Yes there is.”  He gulped.  “I can feel them all around us.”

“Husks aren’t even intelligent enough to open a door,” he said, employing reason to try to calm him down.  “They don’t do ambushes.”

Khaledi stared at the bulkhead.  “It doesn’t matter.  We’re never getting out.  We should never have come here.”

“None of that now,” Alenko said sharply.  “We will get to the bottom of this, and we are all going to walk off this ship.”

She shifted her dull eyes to him.  That was the full extent of her reaction. 

He screwed the cap back on his canteen and tried to think through the fog.  “I know this isn’t what we expected.  But we were all on Feros together and I am damn sure any one of us can outthink a flashlight head bastard.”

His gaze took in each of them in turn.  He was the marine detail commander.  These were his guys.  When he arrived on Mars almost eleven months ago, they were placed into his care.  Since then they’d been to hell and back, but they stuck together and pulled through.  They did their jobs and they did them well, with honor and excellence, sometimes in the face of impossible odds.

He got to his feet.  “I’m not done yet.  I don’t think any of you are, either.”

A few of them sat up a bit straighter.  Alenko continued, his tone strong, convincing, more so than he felt.  “We are the _Normandy_ marines.  We are the envy of this fleet, and I’m not going to dishonor the civilians on this ship by allowing their deaths to go unanswered, and I’m sure as hell not going to embarrass us by allowing this squad to go down to some kind of crazy geth maze.”

There was even a smattering of laughter at that last, easing some of the tension.  Alenko turned back towards the hatch, trying to formulate a new idea. 

Saldana stared into the black of the hold, wholly unaffected by pep talks or laughter.  His hands worked the pistol- grate, click, beep.  “They’re waiting for us in the corners.  In the angles.”

“Shut up or I’ll make you shut up,” Draven snapped.  “I don’t gotta sit here listening to your crazy.”

“Easy now, Corporal.”  Alenko’s brow furrowed.  He raised his flashlight and scanned the surrounding network of walkways.  They glinted silver-gray in the harsh white glow.  “Does this look wrong to anyone else?”

Williams stood as well, following his line of sight.  She pointed to each intersection in turn, counting under her breath. 

“Four,” she announced, utterly confused.

“That can’t be right.”  Alenko counted as well.  “This is impossible.  The paths meet at a sixty degree angle.  How can there be four?”

The chief crossed her arms.  “Who the hell builds walkways in triangles, anyway?  Ninety degrees is standard.”

Daecher’s voice rose an octave.  “They’re screwing with us.  They’re out there right now, grinning.  I can feel it.”

Saldana laughed, a haunted, mocking sound.  It sent a chill up the Alenko’s spine.  He tried to ignore it.  “Someone check me on this.”

There were several nods as the other marines crowded the rail and confirmed the strange fact for themselves.  Up until that moment, none of them questioned the odd geometry, which was perhaps the most frightening fact of all.

Alenko cursed to himself.  “They’re doing something to alter our perception.  That’s why we keep getting lost.”

Corporal Greico swallowed audibly.  “I didn’t know they could do that, sir.”

“Neither did I.”  But he sensed the growing fear, in all of them, and tried to lighten the blow.  “Clearly, they’re not very good at it.  I mean, angles?  Is that the best they’ve got?”

His tone was dismissive, as if this was a cheap party trick and not a serious tactical concern.  It was unlikely any of the squad was gullible enough to buy it wholesale, but they all understood that they couldn’t stay here, and bought into enough to pull themselves together.  He took a breath.  “Alright.  Williams, Greico, Chase- you’re our counters.  Any time we come to an intersection, we figure out how it really looks before we make a choice.  Draven and Crosby- start a new map.  Check each other’s work.  Khaledi, you’re the closest thing we’ve got to a medic.  Keep an eye on everyone.”

His eyes shot to Daecher and Saldana.  It was a subtle gesture, but she caught it and gave him the smallest of nods.  Neither of them was doing well.  Saldana continued to work his gun.  Alenko figured it was harmless for the moment, if troubling. 

He gave the team a last look, ensuring they understood their orders, and turned to the hatch.  “Let’s find the bridge.”

However, as they packed up their things, Saldana unfolded his pistol one final time and remarked, “Don’t stare into the angles.  There’s things that stare back.”

The hair rose on Alenko’s neck, and he turned smartly on his heel before anyone could see the brief horror that flickered on his face.

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard and Garrus wandered the floor of the hold.  The stacks of cargo left only narrow alleys between them, making it difficult to stay along the bulkhead, and there was no guarantee the lift was even against the bulkhead.  It was only a best guess in lieu of better options for narrowing the search. 

“The ship doesn’t have any power,” Garrus was saying.  “How are we going to use the elevator when we find it?”

Shepard shrugged.  The motion made her gun-mounted flashlight bob.  “It could have a backup generator.  At the least, the scaffold shaft will give us something to climb.”

“Feels like we should have found it by now.”

“I can’t see anything in this damn dark.”

“How do you think they’re doing?”  It was the question neither of them dared raise, in the last few hours.  Garrus’ voice caught at the end, as if he regretted breaching the topic.

Shepard let out a long breath.  “They’re good soldiers, and they know their mission.  Kaidan’ll get them to the bridge, power up the ship, and then we can figure out what the hell happened here.”

She refused to accept any other outcome.  They were used to fighting husks.  And if Kaidan wanted an easy out of their argument, he’d have to do a lot better than this.

Garrus’ mandibles clicked.  “Isn’t it obvious what happened?”

“We’re coming up awful short on geth for a geth attack.”  She shook her head.  “And no, I have no other explanation for the husks.  Nothing’s adding up.  I don’t like it when things don’t add up.”

“Awful short on husks, too, for a ship of this size.”  Garrus swung his light into another dark corner, filled only with metal dust from numerous mining runs.  “Personally, I’d just as soon go home, and tell your Alliance to blow this mess to hell.  Being here makes my head hurt.”

Once he mentioned it, she realized her head felt curiously heavy as well.  “Kind of a buzzing in the bones of your skull, vibrating you to death?”

“Yeah.”  He shuddered.  “It’s making it hard to remember what we’re doing.”

There wasn’t much to say to that.  They walked on in silence.  The sensation was familiar, now that her attention was called to it, but she couldn’t quite recall from where.  It was like a word on the tip of her tongue.  She massaged her temple, though it did nothing to clear her head.  “Maybe we should try the center of the hold instead of keeping to the bulkhead.  I think I remember less cargo there.”

Garrus nodded, having no better suggestions, and they turned towards the interior.  The way was crowded with containers full of ore.  Every time they navigated a corner, Shepard expected to meet husks, but so far their exploration was entirely peaceful.  She raised her flashlight down the steep corridor created by two stacks of cargo.  “I think I see a clearing ahead.  Be ready.”

The turian’s fingers tightened around his rifle.  They put their backs to the crates and exchanged a look as they neared the end of the alley.  Shepard sucked in a breath and stepped forward, sweeping her gun across the gap, ready to fire.

After a long moment without gunshots or calling out her status, Garrus asked, “Are we clear?”

The words struggled and died on her lips.  “No hostiles,” she managed at last.

He stepped into the clearing and let out his breath in a long hiss of surprise.  “Damn.”

Fifteen or twenty dragon’s teeth were arrayed in an egg crate formation, the sharp tapers of their center poles raised high over their mounts.  Each and every one was caked with dried, rusty ichor, black in the pale light.  It ran down the tripods into sludgy pools beneath their bases.  In the middle of the cluster, the puddles merged to become one gory stain longer and broader than Shepard was tall.  Here and there larger bits of offal stuck to the blood.  The stench was unimaginable.

Shepard was rarely repulsed by anything, but more than even the gruesome montage, she was actively repelled by an intense aura of pure malevolence that seemed to hang over the scene.  It wasn’t what was done so much as the why; to transform through pain and panic living, thinking creatures into mindless golems.  It had none of the standard pettiness for which human beings and other people visited atrocities upon each other.  The geth acted with unimpassioned scientific purpose, as cold as it was effective.

As they took it in, side by side, Garrus shook his head.  “I don’t understand.  Where are the geth?  Where are the husks?  What the hell is going on here?”

Shepard tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and ran the tip of her tongue over her teeth.  “The buzzing.”

“What?”

“That buzzing, in your skull.”  She grew more excited, turning to him and blocking the dragon’s teeth from her line of sight.  “It’s like the geth jamming tower on Feros.  If it weren’t for this- this fog, I would’ve placed it sooner.”

He folded his arms.  “You found that girl- Darcy- down there with it.”

“It was like she was enthralled.  She just sat there, mumbling to herself.  If we hadn’t come along, she would have sat until she died.”  Shepard glanced back at the gristly scene.  “What if they built something similar, but larger, more powerful?  Enough to knock out any ship that comes in range?”

His eyes widened.  “Then it’s not just us exposed to this… strangeness.  The _Normandy_ could be at risk.”

“We need to find that device.” They strode away from the dragon’s teeth with a sense of urgency, becoming a jog as they moved deeper into the cargo bay, the throbbing of the signal a drumbeat in their bones.

/\/\/\/\/\

With the squad’s new strategy, it only took an additional hour to navigate out of the cargo bay and into the living quarters of the ship.  A crew of fifty took up considerable space, even crammed into bunks stacked three high.  The forward quarter of the massive ship was divided into four decks, arranging all of the necessities vertically to leave as much room as possible for the raw ore that paid for everything else.  Mining haulers weren’t anyone’s idea of a soft ride.

When Alenko was a boy, not more than eight years old, he attended a school field trip to one of the old ghost towns dotting the province outside Vancouver.  Restored and preserved for posterity as a one of a kind of outdoor museum, the place drew crowds annually.  The students were dutifully marched through old stores, cabins, and stables, while their guide tried vainly to interest them in frontier life some three centuries prior.  It was exciting mainly because they got to watch a vid on the bus and eat hot dogs in the tourist center for lunch.  But he remembered shuffling through the buildings, too, peering through the plexiglass walls at kitchens, bedrooms, parlors- all laid out like their occupants merely stepped away for a moment. 

Children of an age already irrevocably changed by mass effect technology, some of them wondered at the strange and curious devices on display.  Many were bored and had to be corralled by their teachers.  But Alenko was equal parts fascinated and nervous, looking at these ghost worlds, awaiting a time that would never return and residents who were long dead.  It was a graveyard that lacked the proper sense to realize it.

That was the crew quarters aboard the _Cornucopia._

Books lay open on beds.  Clothes were piled on floors like the wearers wandered off half-dressed.  Food sat cold upon the tables.  The various stages of decay seemed to indicate it was not all abandoned at once, but a little at a time, and nobody bothered to clean up.  As if those who survived, however temporarily, kept on going in a sort of blind fog.  The squad passed through the mess, the rec room with vids still looping across terminal screens, even a treadmill still running in a pathetic, endless, empty cycle.  Alenko wondered, not for the first time, where the crew was.  They’d seen no more husks since the control pod.

They proceeded silently, with clinical detachment, nobody wanting to raise the question.  Daecher crowded towards the center of the column, head jerking nervously as he avoided eye contact with shadows surrounding them.  The incessant clicking of Saldana’s gun made Alenko grind his teeth, but orders to stop never stuck for more than a few minutes.

Eventually they reached the skipper’s quarters.  It was unlocked, a light touch on the hatch all that was required to gain access.  Inside, the space was a wreck.  Clothes, food wrappers, OSDs, paperbacks- nothing was put away.  The sheets lay in knotted tangles over the bed.  One of the pillows had slumped to the floor. 

A tornado would leave more order.  There were a few snickers as they moved into the cabin, a little of the eeriness falling away in light of the unfortunate familiarity.  Williams smothered a laugh.  “Shepard and this skipper must be kindred spirits.”

“No hot chocolate,” Greico corrected, sniffing at an abandoned mug. 

Shepard had learned military discipline- order, regulation, presentation- but it only took one look at her cabin to realize it hadn’t come naturally, and at this point in their mission, most of the crew had witnessed her messier inclinations.  She wouldn’t let anyone else touch it.  Every few weeks, when they were caught on a long cruise between systems, she would take an afternoon to tidy up, swearing to keep up with it this time, only to have all her hard work erased within a few days.  Alenko, the kind of man who bothered to fold his socks, couldn’t stand it.  His palms itched just remembering her quarters at their worst.  It was just like Shepard to be vastly irritating without even being in the room.  The woman had presence to spare.

It was impossible not to remember that hours had passed since their separation or that she should have caught up to them by now.  How hard was it to find one elevator?  What if she survived the fall, but was too injured to follow, and they simply left her behind?

He looked around the room and ran a hand over his hair. 

From somewhere behind him, Chase said, tentatively, “I’m sure she’s ok, sir.”

He turned around, brow furrowed, and a touch chagrined.  The acknowledgement itself wasn’t shocking.  Scuttlebutt had been going for months.  But the blasé acceptance was unnatural.  Eye rolls, suspicious glares, snickering whispers, sure- but not this.  Alenko glanced from one face to the next, and sighed.  “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“You guys are good together.”  Chase shrugged, nonchalant.

He folded his arms and eyed them, as if waiting for the joke.

Williams took the lead, speaking for the team.  “We talked about it.  It might not be customary, but hell, it works.”

“You what?” He struggled to regain his balance.  “When?”

“A few weeks ago,” she said airily.  “Come on, L.T.  She’s a marine, you’re a marine… did you really think you were going to pull this off without our support?  We decided things are better this way.”

Alenko gaped at them.  For a moment, the strangeness of the ship receded, as the team smirked at him and nudged each other.  His mouth snapped shut.  “You decided.”

“Outside opinion and all that.”  Williams couldn’t hold in a laugh.  Her hand flew to her mouth.  “You didn’t think you were hiding it, did you?”

He shook his head and left the absurdity as it was.  “I’m going to clear the last room.”

_Cornucopia’s_ captain enjoyed a private restroom.  The faucet ran, a continuous loop between the onboard water reclaimers and the tap.  Alenko gently shut it off.  His hand lingered on the lever, embarrassed and oddly comforted at the same time, wondering if there was something more he should say or if that was that.  It was funny in a way- their acceptance came at a time when Alenko was angrier with Shepard than he thought possible, in light of all the things she hid, and almost too worried about her to remember it.  That bothered him most- not that she’d stolen the data, or her treatment of the batarian, but she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him the truth.

Maybe she was trying to protect him.  Or maybe she simply thought he’d react exactly like this.  He wasn’t sure which notion was more infuriating.  Alenko shook his head and left the room.  None of it was relevant.  Right now, he needed to get the ship running again.  Everything else could wait.

Back in the causeway, however, the oppressive atmosphere was fully reasserted and all trace of mirth gone.  The squad huddled together.  There was plenty of space for them to walk two or three abreast as they turned towards the bridge, but the walls seemed to close in on them.  The ceiling hung lower, the corners shrouded and full of unknowns.  Their flashlights did nothing to penetrate the darkness.  For a solid ten minutes as they walked, nobody spoke, not even to call out direction.

Saldana unfolded his pistol into firing configuration for what must have been the five hundredth time.  Scrape.  Click.  Beep.

Draven’s temper snapped.  “Would you stop playing with your goddamned gun before I shoot you with it?”

Everyone stopped.  Draven and Saldana were near the rear of the column.  Alenko started pushing towards them.

“He’s not well,” Khaledi whispered, searching through her medic’s pouch.  “I think maybe some claradrine-“

Saldana’s hands twitched.  The pistol retracted and beeped its completion.

Corporal Draven lost her mind.  She flew at Saldana, snarling incoherently.  Khaledi dropped her bag and tried to haul the larger woman away.

“Hey!” Alenko shouldered his way towards the pair.  It was made difficult as the squad crowded towards the fight.

It should have been no contest.  Draven was a broad-shouldered marine who took to infantry like she was specially built for it.  Saldana was short and wiry, the kind of kid who enlists to escape something worse back at home.  And yet, as Draven’s hand closed about his wrist, intending to force him to drop the gun, his fingers circled her forearm.  The tips dug into the flesh hard enough to bruise.

They stared at each other for a long second, her eyes wide and frightened, his alight with an unholy glow.

Alenko automatically began gathering dark energy into his hand, to control the situation, but too slowly.  Saldana twisted, and Draven’s wrist broke with an audible pop.

A moment later, Alenko’s biotic wave took the private around the middle and sent him crashing down the corridor.  It wasn’t enough force to do any damage; just sufficient to separate them, and temporarily disable Saldana. 

Draven lunged after Saldana.  It took both Crosby and Greico to hold her back. 

Alenko pushed past the trio and went to the prone man.  Saldana didn’t resist as the lieutenant rolled him over and bound his hands with a zip tie, more for his own safety than as a prelude to arrest.  It was clear he wasn’t in his right mind.  Instead, his lips churned with a wordless chant, sub-audible if they made any sound at all.  Alenko hauled him to his feet before it could get under his skin.

Greico hastily grabbed Draven again as she jerked in Saldana’s direction.  “Tell him to knock that fucking creepy shit off!”

Williams folded her arms.  “Hey, go easy on him.  It’s not his fault.”

Draven spun.  “And why the hell do you care?”

She shrugged.  “He reminds me of my kid brother.”

And then everyone was staring at her, the fight forgotten.  Alenko licked his lips.  “You… you don’t have a brother, Chief.”

A troubled look crossed her face.  She seemed hopelessly lost.  Her hand brushed her forehead.  “I feel strange.”

“We need to get the hell off this ship,” Alenko said, and nobody argued.  He passed Saldana to the medic.  “Khaledi- you said you had a drug that might help.”

“Yes, sir.”  She extracted a syringe from her kit and made the injection.  Saldana’s blank expression showed no change, but gradually, the low chanting slowed.  He relaxed.

Alenko moved forward, stopping briefly beside Ash.  “Hang in there.  We get the lights on, and all the nightmares go back inside the box.”

She nodded, more bravado than real, but it was enough.  The bridge was no more than ten meters ahead.

/\/\/\/\/\

Garrus navigated the next corner, the rifle firm in his grasp.  “Clear!”

Shepard moved up past him.  By now they’d traded off so many times it was second nature.  There was still no sign of any geth device, but the pounding in Shepard’s head grew worse, which she took as a positive indicator of proximity.  She struggled to remember where she spied open areas among the cargo, before they fell.  Any device of a size to disable a dozen ships would need a lot of breathing room.

Garrus was still not convinced this wasn’t a fruitless search.  “Why would the geth install a jamming tower and leave?  What’s the point of disabling a bunch of haulers?”

“I’ve said all along it’s not the geth.”  The machines never did anything without a reason.  Sowing chaos for chaos’ sake wasn’t their way.

“Dragon’s teeth are geth tools,” he argued.  “Husks are geth creations.”

“Shut up.”  Shepard was exhausted of debating it.  “Do you hear that?”

“All I can hear is this damn hum.”

“There’s a kind of… slower drum to it.”  She struggled with the description.  “Something not inside my head.”

They walked a few more paces.  The sound got louder, droning.  Garrus grimaced.  “I hear it.”

Shepard put a finger to her lips and they slipped forward, hands clenched around their weapons.  She doused her light.  Garrus followed suit.  They crept ahead through total night with only their last memories to guide them.

As they approached the end of the row, a blue glow, almost outside human visual range, began to grow.  It was so faint Shepard wondered if her brain was simply trying to fill the darkness.  Still, her feet slowed, and she put her back to the crate before glancing around the corner, as thin a glimpse as she could manage.

A writhing mass of husks shuffled and groaned, their empty mouths gaping open and crackling with ozone flares.  They were packed so tightly they ground into each other, body to body, pressing into the object of their adoration.  They must be very far from the external hatch to have missed the device before, because it nearly touched the ceiling; its slender, tentacle-like arms wound in spirals and curlicues to form a basket, cradling a sphere as wide as Shepard was tall.  The orb was milky pale and throbbed with electric blue lightening.  It hurt to gaze upon it.

Her eyes widened.  She drew back and edged back along the crate, away from the corner, and almost collided with Garrus.

“What-“ he started to ask, in hushed tones.

Shepard squatted and checked her gun, her fingers running across its familiar lines, a ritualistic gesture.  It was the deep breath before the plunge.  “I found the remainder of the crew.  They’re all husks.”

He cursed.  “How many?”

She shook her head.  He couldn’t see it, but the silence spoke for her.  “So we find an alternate route.”

“No.”  Shepard hit the button to initiate a full vent of the rifle heat sink.  It hissed with the release of air.  No matter how new the weapon or how expensive the seals, a little always leaked in, and degraded the cooling performance.  “They’re surrounding the jamming tower, if that’s what it is.  Crowded shoulder to shoulder, ringing the base.  At least they’re distracted.”

“Are you sure?  It could be a bit of scaffolding from the gantry system-“

“I’m sure.”  Shepard would never forget the disquieting curves, the alien glow, or the noise that drove straight through her bones every time she was near one of the things. 

He blew out a breath.  “What’s the plan?”

“Get to high ground.  Maybe the crates.  Mow them down faster than they can climb up after us.”  She made a sound of resignation, a half smile in the night.  “Kind of wish we’d found the rest of the squad before now.”

“I did my mandatory service in the Hierarchy navy and another tour besides that, and C-Sec afterwards.  I’ve lost track of the number of missions, the number of raids…  You want to know what I’ve learned?”

She played along, matching his cynicism drop for drop.  “What is that?”

“You can requisition all the backup in the world, but when it gets down to blood and bullets, you’re always alone.”  He laid his hand against a ridge stamped into the side of the metal crate.  “I think if we use these ribs, here, we can climb up a good ways.”

She followed his arm to the place he indicated, and nodded in the dark.  “Let’s do it.”

They scaled the stack.  Blind climbing took some time, but they found a good, open area up on the second tier, eight meters or so above the deck.  Shepard reached it first, and bent to haul Garrus up the last meter.  He wiped his gloves on his suit and chuckled.

“What?” she asked.

“You like it better this way, anyhow.”  He shook his head.  “I don’t know if the adrenaline makes you feel alive or it’s just that despite eleven years in uniform you’ve never gotten used to risking other people’s lives.”

“Well, I guess you don’t count, then.”  Her grin was sarcastic, and not a little defensive.

“I’m not your responsibility.  But it’s ok.  I feel the same way, and I’ve done this just as long.”  He walked towards the far edge, looking down at the floor.  “You weren’t kidding about this tower.  It makes my organs squirm.”

“We’ll wreck the husks and blow the thing to hell.”  She drew her rifle.  “Ready?’

“Whenever you are.”

Her hand lingered on a grenade for the space of a thought, but she had no idea what kind of ore was stored here.  Some types were flammable or even explosive when exposed to heat- and there was enough to blow a hole in the side of the ship.  Instead, she strode to the edge, swept the hair off her face, and opened fire.

Bits of husk splattered the air.  A low, aching moan rose from the mass, growing louder and louder until all the hairs of her body stood on end and she seemed to vibrate like a tuning fork.  Her finger never left the trigger.  Shepard was vaguely aware of Garrus beside her, likewise firing, but also yelling incoherently, a wall of sound to counter their groaning.

She opened her throat and let loose a yell of her own.  It was dull and warped by the nearness of the jamming tower, but all the same, it drowned out the husks. 

The initial assault thinned their numbers, but not enough.  Not nearly enough.  The remainder turned in place, and flung themselves bodily upon the crates.  Their long, bony fingers scrabbled at the metal ribs.  Those unfortunate enough to be at the front had their backs and legs clawed to pieces by their fellows behind, as they scaled the crates, as they scaled each other, as they climbed up on the pieces of the fallen to reach Shepard and Garrus.

All the while, the low, endless moaning never once paused.

She aimed lower, down along the side of the crates, no longer caring if it sparked an explosion because they were dead either way.  Some of the creatures fell to the rain of bullets.  But husks were impervious to fear and pain, and didn’t give up until completely physically disabled.  Those who fell renewed the climb.  Those who could still climb continued, pulling themselves up by stumps and teeth and sheer mindless purpose.

The first of them reached the upper tier where she and Garrus stood.  Shepard stomped on their fingers automatically, kicked at their heads with her hard boots, but broken bones made no difference.  They were forced back from the edge by a tidal wave of husk bodies.  Her rifle began to overheat.  With one hand, she swept it across the line, while her other reached behind her back and found her shotgun, making ready.

“We need to get to higher ground!” Garrus yelled as their backs hit the next tier of crates.

“Go!  I’ll cover you!”  She raised the shotgun, aiming for joints vital to mobility, guided only by the blue light streaming over each creature.  Her shots didn’t miss once, but the next wave flowed over the broken husks without pause.

She heard more than saw him scramble up the crate.  Up here, the tower’s glow faded to almost nothing, and the faint glow of the husks themselves was scarcely enough to illuminate them.  Shepard made a second pass with her shotgun, and then they were on her.

They were terrifically strong despite their wasted forms.  Whipcord muscle over bone matched by a relentless drive to destroy whatever living things they encountered made them as formidable as a tank.  She struck the closest, her gun a hammer in her hand.  One grabbed her arm; she jerked it free, violently, and pivoted in place to dash a third against the container.  A husk with both its knees blown out crawled to her position and wrapped its slender arms about her leg.

She shot it twice in the back.  It twitched but did not release its grip.  From the front a fifth husk lunged at her chest; she only just managed to slide out of the way.  It scrabbled for footing to launch another attack.

She was very rapidly running out of time.

“Shepard!” Garrus called.  She glanced up to see him holding out his hand.  “Grab hold!”

Despite the husks assailing her, she bent at the knees and leapt with all her strength.  Her feet left the ground.  Her fingers brushed Garrus’ just before she fell back.

“Come on!” he yelled.  She glanced down, set her mouth in a line, and drove her heel into the neck of one attached to her leg.  It seized, violently, but let her go.  Without hesitation she jumped again.

This time he caught her wrist.  She swung wildly for a moment before finding purchase against the crate.  A few good kicks and she scrambled up beside him.

He glanced at her.  “Any ideas?”

“Keep going ‘til we can’t.”  Shepard resumed firing into the writhing, groaning mass.  Every thought that came felt drowned in molasses.  That clear place in her mind, the one constantly evaluating her circumstances and furiously scheming, was not simply silenced but utterly unreachable.  It was all she could do to hold her concentration on this battle.  Her body throbbed in step with the pulsing of the geth orb atop the tower.

It went on for ages.  Their new perch was slightly more defensible, being smaller, but after a further ten minutes they were forced to climb again.  Reaching the top provided a brief window to catch their breath.  At the apex of the stack, as she flipped on her flashlight, Shepard could just barely make out the gantry in the distance.  She tilted it up.  Girders marched along the ceiling in orderly rows.  They were out of reach for one person, but if they boosted each other, maybe…

In a few short statements, she explained the plan.  Garrus nodded and grabbed her by the waist, tossing her up towards the roof.  She caught the girder and wrapped her legs soundly around its rungs before leaning back and lowering her arms towards him.

Every muscle screamed as he grabbed onto her limbs, using the core of her body as a scaffold to work his way towards the rafters.  Shepard was over 190 centimeters of solid marine muscle and no lightweight, but turians were even taller, predators built from the bone up, and possessed of metal-impregnated carapaces to protect them from the harsh light of their homeworld.  Her whole reality shrank to a single purpose: hold on until he reached the ceiling. 

When the girder finally took his weight, she sagged like a rag doll, swaying limply.  Garrus pulled himself to a sitting position and reached down to help her up.  After a moment, she grabbed his arm and let him. 

Once they were both secure, Shepard spared a single glance down.  Husks crowded the top of the container stack, pushing each other over the edge in their eagerness to reach their prey.  She turned her gaze back towards Garrus, more sound a sound of heavy breathing than a sight. 

There were times when Shepard truly wondered what in hell she was thinking.  That they were unlikely to locate the rest of the squad while the tower stood, sure.  That husks were mindless and comparatively easy opponents, alright.  Taking in the moaning mass below, it wasn’t clear how those two thoughts led to a belief that the two of them could take out forty-some husks with no aid whatsoever.  They were lucky to be alive.

At the same time, the rush in her veins was as undeniable as the fierce and giddy grin on her face.  There was nothing like beating the odds.

The girder creaked as Garrus shifted his weight.  “Orders?”

She blew out a breath.  “We make for the gantry.  I don’t think they can follow us.  Pick off the ones we can see at our leisure, and then start thinking about Step 2.”

They began to crawl along the length, carefully feeling their way amidst the beams.  “Step 2?”

“Find a way to bring down that tower.”

It was a short drop from the rafters to the walkway.  The husks were still clustered in confusion, unable to calculate a way to cross.  Shepard swung her rifle over her shoulder and set it against the railing.  “This is how it should be.”

“Agreed.”  Garrus offered her a sidelong smile, just for a second, before they opened fire.

It was no contest.  The husks had no way to fight back, and indeed, no way to even fully understand what was happening.  They cleared those in sight.  More scrambled up after.

Shepard spoke through gritted teeth.  “How many of these fucking things can there possibly be?”

And then, without warning, the gantry shivered beneath them as the whole ship thrummed with power, and the lights came on.  They squinted against the sudden brightness, cursing.   Meanwhile the husks began to scatter.  By the time the dots cleared from her vision, they were gone.

She let out a whoop all the same, grinning.  “They made it to the bridge.”

“You had doubts?” Garrus asked with wry amusement.

Shepard paused.  Certainly, she’d gone forward with the assumption they would succeed, but this was a strange ship nothing about it sat well with her.  How much of it was confidence necessary to continue the mission, and how much of it was real?  They were a good and capable squad but it wasn’t really about that.  It was about her counting up her losses over the years, and though she didn’t know what number was too many, she sensed she was coming up on it.

Garrus was giving her an odd look.  She shook her head and smiled.  “Of course I thought they would.”

He made a sound like he didn’t believe it, but made no further comment.  She went to the railing.  “Over there.  They’ve got a box of mining charges.”

She pointed.  Garrus followed her gaze.  “Should be enough to blow the tower.  Can the ship take it?”

Shepard shrugged.  “We need to contact the _Normandy_ to leave.  That won’t happen until it’s disabled.”

The lift wasn’t far from their position.  They rode back to the floor and hauled out the charges, tangling and draping them about the geth device.  By tossing them upward on their ignition lines, they managed to cover the entire structure.  Shepard picked up the reel connecting all the detonators and walked backwards to what she hoped was a safe distance.

Garrus unhooked his helmet and sealed it to his neck ring, a standard precaution in case of catastrophic venting of the hold.  That the ship was enormous and would take hours to fully depressurize didn’t matter.  They were still close enough to be sucked out with the initial rush of air. 

Shepard wasted a moment regretting that her own helmet was wedged somewhere between the crates, lost during the fall from the gantry.  But the device’s strange aura lingered in the air all about her, wriggling down through layers of muscle, blood, and bone, and she knew it had to be as soon as possible.  Her thumb caressed the trigger.  “Shield your eyes.”

The explosions began as sharp scattered pops, like popcorn in a pan, gathering momentum as the daisy-chained detonators were successively triggered.  Soon the sound was deafening, and the incandescent flashes so continuous that even through her closed lids they were vivid as a sunrise.  The floor shook like a sieve.  They grabbed onto anything they could and waited for it to pass. 

The device gave a long, aching groan as its supports began to fail.  Shepard heard it crash to the ground.  As one final explosion shattered the orb, a shockwave out of all proportion with simple mining charges radiated outward, toppling cargo and slamming against the air.  It tossed them down a valley formed of stacked containers.  Shepard landed hard on her back and simply lay there a long moment, staring up at the lights.

Garrus sat up beside her, groaning and massaging his shoulder.  She tilted her head forward.  Every semblance of the glowing tower was annihilated, the orb a pile of shards and sand on the floor.  The deck beneath it was warped, but unbreached.  Slowly, she lowered her head back to the floor and closed her eyes.

After a few moments, Garrus poked her, hard.  Her expression was pure irritation.  He leaned down towards her.  “This is not a drill.  You really are the commander of a starship, and you really do need to haul your ass back to your team.”

“I quit,” she said, but she got to her feet, stretching every which was she could to work out the full-body ache.  Explosions could kiss her ass. 

Garrus winced as he made to remove his helmet.  Her brow furrowed.  “You alright?”

“Banged my shoulder on corner as we flew by.”  He grimaced.  “I think it’s dislocated, but it’s nothing that can’t wait.”

She nodded, agreeing with the medical assessment, and activated her comm.  “Shepard to _Normandy_ , come in.”

A crackle of static, and then Joker’s relieved voice flooded her ears.  “Commander, thank hell.  Things were getting hairy up here.”

“What’s going on?  Where’s Bakari?”  The serviceman should have been at his post, manning the comm.

“That’s what I’m talking about.  Pressly ordered Bakari and a few of the others confined to your cabin.  Since you took the whole marine detail, he’s got engineers guarding the doors.”

“What?”  Her voice rose with shock.  And then a second trickle of thought.  “My cabin?”

“He thought they could do the least damage there.  No access to external hatches or critical systems.”  Joker paused.  “They weren’t acting right, Commander.  It’s hard to explain.  Bakari was trying to override navigation when Pressly caught on.  It’s like some kind of switch flipped in their heads.”

“We destroyed the source of the problem, but the sooner we get out of here, the better.”

“Couldn’t agree more.  I’ll see you at the forward upper hatch.”

“But the spin- you can’t dock.”

“You arrested the spin.  Or at least that’s what it looks like from here.  Systems fully online.”

_Kaidan._   “The team got split.  It’s a long story.”

“You can tell us after we’re away from this snake pit.  _Normandy_ out.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Twenty minutes later, Alenko had the squad assembled by the airlock, awaiting docking.  Shepard and Garrus were taking their time, collecting data on the sundered geth device.  It felt like the weight of the world came off his shoulders when his comm burst into life and he heard her voice, but he still wasn’t sure if he’d rather hug her or strangle her.

Just as Joker settled the _Normandy_ against _Cornucopia’s_ side, they strolled into view, disheveled and dirty, Garrus favoring his left arm while Shepard stopped off to the side, a bit away from the group.  She was streaked with grime, grease, and sweat.  Garrus sidled up to him and congratulated them on a job well done.

“Thanks,” Alenko said, absently, his glance straying to Shepard.  She was massaging her neck, twisting her head this way and that, stray locks of dusty red hair falling down around her face.  She caught him watching her just as she tilted it all the way back, an incidental statuesque pose that did amazing things for her. 

Garrus, however, took in the remaining marines, his beady blue eyes lingering on Saldana, who stared blankly ahead with his hands bound.  “What took you so long to get to the bridge?”

Shepard’s expression was resigned, tired, and wary.  Alenko cleared his throat and broke eye contact.  “Long story.  How’d you snap everyone out of it?”

No need to specify what “it” was.  Garrus said, “We found the geth device that was screwing with our heads, along with most of the husks.  They were magnetically attracted to the thing.  We barely made it out with our lives.”

“You destroyed it?”

Shepard’s hand fell away from her neck, muscles either eased or the effort given up as futile.  “We blew it up.  Mining charges.  Hell of a thing.”

Williams interrupted before Alenko could say it.  “You deliberately set off an explosion inside a ship?”

“The power just came back.  You all were on the bridge.  You would have seen the alerts, and gotten buttoned up in time.”  She nodded towards Saldana, who was gazing into the middle distance with no evidence of mental presence, his hands still bound.  “What’s that?”

Williams glanced at Alenko.  He wasn’t sure what to say.  “Another long story.  I’m glad the geth device is gone.”

“There were no geth here.  I’m stuck on where it came from in the first place.”

Alenko nodded.  “We downloaded the captain’s logs.  They found it in a mine out in Sentry Omega.”

Shepard blinked.  “That’s right up against the Perseus Veil.  What the hell is a human freighter doing out near geth space?”

Joker came on the comm.  “We have hard lock.  Ready for boarding on your order.”

“Roger that.”  Shepard gestured towards the airlock with a certain amount of cavalier courtesy. 

They crowded into the narrow space.  Shepard and Alenko were among the last.  He watched her sidelong, more relieved than he could say, tinged with a resentful guilt.  Maybe he should have given her a chance to explain, about the Cerberus data, about Balak, about why she kept everything important to herself.  At the same time, these were not sound or even legal decisions and she was entirely unrepentant.    

But Shepard never regretted anything.  It wasn’t in her nature.  She accepted the blow of bad choices or situations that didn’t work out as planned, absorbing it, feeling it, but actual regret was unusual.  He wasn’t sure why he expected any here.  Just a hint of remorse would make it easy to forgive her- but that was the problem.  She didn’t believe she required forgiveness.

As the hatch sealed behind them, they went through the routine of pulling out helmets and sealing them to their suits.  It was standard procedure.  The airlock would be pressurized to match _Normandy’s_ atmosphere.  Depressurization was exceptionally rare, but regs still called for preparation.

Shepard folded her arms behind her back and bounced on her toes, reflexively, as everyone else suited up.  He eyed her.  “Where’s your helmet?”

“No fucking idea.”

He blinked at her, floored.  “You set off a string of charges without your helmet.”

She blew out a breath, blowing the hair off her forehead, and looked straight ahead.  “Didn’t have much choice.”

He glanced down at the helmet in his hands.  The memory of her vanishing over the edge of the gantry played through his mind, real and imagined- free falling to a pile of pulp and broken bones on the floor, breaking her head or her spine on a container on the way down, being devoured by husks when she reached the bottom. 

Then he slipped it over her head, and slid his thumb across the clamp to seal it.  She blinked at him through the visor.

“I’m still pissed at you,” he said.

She regarded him for a long moment.  “You’re really dumb.”

Then she folded her arms across her abdomen and they waited for the lock to cycle.  His lips twitched.   He told himself it wasn’t funny, but the chastisement had little effect.

When they spilled into the main causeway aboard the _Normandy_ , just aft of the bridge, she handed it back and disappeared into the CIC.  A few minutes later, calm as anything, her voice over the comm ordered them to secure the hatch and make for the relay with all due haste. 

Alenko almost went to her, an urge to clear the air, but it wasn’t the time.  He took custody of Saldana from Khaledi and escorted him to med bay.


	45. Cookie Logic

Shepard sat in the mess, playing with a tin of butter cookies.  It was mid-afternoon, long after lunch, and she should be upstairs working in the CIC, or whatever the hell they called standing around and looking like she had a clue.

Williams had taken to running laps around the ship, like her commander, and she paused as she passed the table.  “Hey there, skipper.”

“Chief.”  Shepard moved another cookie into the pattern, and frowned. 

Williams plopped down beside her, panting.  “What’s up?”

Shepard raised a single red eyebrow at that, but replied mildly.  “Things are quiet.  I’m getting to like quiet.”

“I hear that.”  Williams pushed her sweaty hair off her forehead.  “Any word on the private?  Is he doing any better?”

Though most of the affected _Normandy_ crew returned to their usual dispositions within hours of leaving the Maroon Sea, albeit with massive headaches and vivid fever dreams, Private Saldana remained unresponsive.  He spent the brief trip to the nearest Alliance base in med bay, rocking back and forth and mumbling to himself.  He flew into a rage when they tried to take his gun; for the peace of the ship, Shepard settled for removing the ammo block.  It made no difference to him.  The poor pistol was damn near worn out.

“No word,” Shepard said, folding her hands.  It wasn’t the whole truth.  The doctors were taking Saldana to the research team examining Benezia’s remains.  But it was accurate that there was no change in his condition.  “I reported to Anderson.  Personally, over the comm.  He’s a little more inclined to believe me now about these… geth shrines.  They’re sending in a demolition crew to clean up.”

‘About frigging time,” Ash groused.  “Are the rest of us finally off the hook?”

A touch of sternness entered Shepard’s tone.  “Chakwas is going to continue the psych evals and you will be perfectly cooperative each and every time she calls you in.”

“For how long?”

“Until I tell her to stop.”  She moved another cookie.

Williams groaned.  Shepard was unsympathetic.  “Nobody’s exempt, Chief.  And Chakwas is sending the results to a colleague who was nowhere near that mess, for independent evaluation.  We can’t afford to take chances, not with this.”

There was a pause.  Ash fidgeted.  “What is this, ma’am?  What happened to us?”

She shook her head.  “I don’t know.  I’m not sure I want to.”

Shepard looked down at her array of pastries.  They were commercial butter cookies, the kind that came in a metal tin, pressed into swirls and ridges before they were baked.  These were topped with colored sugar.  She had them laid out in clusters, scrutinizing them like they held the secrets of the universe.

After a minute of that, Williams’ natural impatience could no longer be repressed.  “What the hell is with the cookies?”

“What the hell is with the cookies…?” Shepard prompted automatically, scooting another one several centimeters.

“Ma’am.”  Ash sighed, explosively.  “Seriously, this looks weird.”

“I’m trying to think through something.  Visualization helps.”  Shepard sat back and rubbed her nose, contemplating her work.  She pointed to a green-sugared cookie.  “The geth are the odd ones out.  They stay behind the Perseus Veil for hundreds of years, but come out for Saren.  Why?”

She picked up one with blue sugar and moved it beside the green.  “Human freighters skirting the Veil discover… something.  They pulled it out of a mine, maybe millions of years underground, but it looks like a geth device.”

“What are humans even doing all the way out there?  That’s practically the Terminus Systems.  We’re not allowed to trade with them.  Not without direct Parliamentary permission and oversight, and damn few companies get approved.”

“Good point.”  Shepard tilted her head.  “So there’s something interesting there, something sufficient to make it worth the risk.”

Her hand hovered over a yellow-dusted specimen.  “This whole game is about Prothean technology.  Find enough of it, and you find the Conduit.  Saren found a new ship.”

Williams shrugged.  “A geth ship.”

“Maybe.”  Shepard licked her lips.  “The geth have this ridiculously advanced technology- the ship, the jamming towers, even the dragon’s teeth- technology not much like the geth themselves, save for the fact that they use it, and nobody else does.”

She set the yellow cookie down beside the others and gazed at the assortment.  “All the pieces are here.  I just can’t see the board.”

“Could the reapers come from the Veil, too?  I mean, if they’re meant to be the geth god or whatever.”

Shepard tapped the yellow cookie again, absently.  “I’ll worry about them later.”

She rubbed her head, then passed her hand over her mouth.  She reached for one with red sugar and hesitated.  What else did they know?  “The krogan think Saren will cure the genophage.  That requires research.  What organization do we know that likes risk, strange science, and has nothing to fear from the Terminus?”

“Cerberus,” Ash said grimly.

“Cerberus,” Shepard agreed, and set the red cookie down, reaching for her datapad.  Tali ran correlations of Major Kyle’s intel against the data they stole from the Alliance.  Shepard added an additional filter- systems within 200 parsecs of the Perseus Veil.

“Nobody’s seen Saren or his ship since Feros,” Williams said while they waited.  “He’s gone to ground.”

“Yes he has.”  It made Shepard angry, that after all their work, he ran and hid.  But it sparked another thought.  She added a second green cookie.  “When you’re running for your life, you retreat to a place of strength.  The geth are his primary allies, so that means geth space.  A place that big needs supplies.  Maybe that gives us the freighters?”

“Hauling ore is a good cover story,” Ash agreed.  “Maybe he found out they were smuggling geth tech.  Maybe they even stole it from him, and falsified the logs- who knows?”

“Supplying a fortress like that leaves a footprint.”  Her datapad beeped.  She eyed the results.  “Two systems.  Phoenix Massing and Sentry Omega.  Both in spitting distance of the Veil, both with confirmed Cerberus interest, both so remote that there’s no Alliance presence whatsoever.  Hell, they’re barely scouted enough for proper cartography.”

“We’d need permission to go that far out of the Traverse.”  Williams’ expression was doubtful, but her voice was hushed with excitement.

Shepard shoved the cookies into a pile, a fierce and hard-won smile touching her face.  “We’ll get it.  Leave it to me.”

She went upstairs to request a call with the Citadel.

/\/\/\/\/\

It turned out to not take much time at all.  No sooner had the words “Sentry Omega” left her mouth than Udina shut down the conversation.

"This requires immediate Council involvement."  He frowned, stroking his chin.  "Let me see if I can get someone from their office now."

The ambassador's holograph winked out as he left the transmitter.  Anderson's eyes followed him, off-screen.  Shepard was baffled.  "We need the Council for a jaunt to the far edge of the galaxy?"

Anderson was equally confused.  "I don't know what this is about.  Sit tight."

She got an even bigger shock a few minutes later, when all three Councilors’ images joined Anderson's.  Sparatus was stone-faced; Tevos and Valern were simply apprehensive, and not bothering to conceal it. 

"Commander," Tevos said by way of opening a dialog, and for once there was no trace of reservation.  "I understand you believe Saren may be hiding in Sentry Omega."

Shepard looked from one Councilor to the next, caught off-guard.  "There's suggestive evidence that he may have retreated to that system, or Phoenix Massing.  It's not what I'd call firm."

"I would."  Councilor Valern was quite grim.  "Two days ago, a salarian Special Tasks Group infiltration unit issued a distress call from the surface of the planet Virmire, in the Sentry Omega cluster.  We have several such teams scattered on the edges of civilized space.”

“What was STG investigating?”

“Saren.”  He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to express her outrage.  “Commander, I understand you feel we have not taken this matter very seriously, but little could be further from the truth.  Had any of our agents discovered information of value, we would have passed it to you immediately.”

She wrestled down her flaring temper.  Regardless of whether their motives were pure, this wasn’t the time.  “It could be coincidence.  What did the message say?"

Tevos’ mouth was a grim line of conclusion.  “Unfortunately, it was little more than static.  Something appears to be jamming their communications.”

At that moment, Shepard experienced a shiver of satisfaction so profound it was almost post-coital.  "Fuck me, we've got the bastard."

STG, salarian spec ops, was considered the premier specialized combat unit in the galaxy.  There was very little that could take out one of their teams.  Even less that could distort their long-range communications.  Evidently, Valern agreed.  A ghost of a smile touched his lips.  "Indeed, though I would not have put it so... colorfully."

Her hand flew to her mouth, covering the inappropriate glee, so excited she felt stretched tight, like her skin was about to burst.  "I'll order my ship there straightaway."

"Not so fast," Sparatus rumbled, sour.  He glanced at his fellow Councilors.  "When you find him, what is it you intend to do?"

Shepard considered her words, and crossed her arms.  "Do you believe there is any chance Saren will allow himself to be taken into custody?"

Sparatus forced the response from reluctant lips. "No."

"Do what you must," Tevos advised, reaching for the switch.  "Good luck, Commander."

"Good hunting."  Valern's modification came edged with shark's teeth.  He must be furious over the loss of the salarian team.

The Councilors vanished, leaving her alone with Anderson, and presumably Udina, out of sight.  The captain gazed at her a long moment.  She could imagine how she looked- thrilled, restless, exhausted like she always was these days.  In a word, crazed.  He blew out a breath.  “Don’t screw up.”

The customary salutation made her grin.  On impulse, she offered a salute.

The captain chuckled and shook his head, before drawing himself to attention and returning it.  “Anderson out.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Virmire was a jewel of a planet, pristine in isolation at the edge of the galactic disc.  Most of the landmass was concentrated in the tropics, where warm ocean waters brushed against gray stone cliffs and beaches of powder-fine sand.  A world like this in Council space would have been gobbled up by commercial interests within ten years of its discovery, but out here, it remained wild and untamed.  The only signs of sentient life were those left by Saren’s operation.  In place of hotels and tourists, trees and animals graced the shoreline, scavenging for food.

“Balmy thirty degrees with overcast skies and a chance of rain,” Joker announced, as though they were embarking on a vacation.  “This is a reminder to all passengers that Normandy Travel Services is not responsible for loss of life or limb due to any geth infestation that may or may not be present on the surface at this very moment.”

Shepard was too happy to finally have Saren locked in her sights to spare any irritation for Joker’s facetious behavior.  “Is that Saren’s facility on the scanner?”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”  He moved the image front and center.  “Got a signal reading from that STG team, too, now that we’re at short range.  No reason for Saren to use salarian protocols.”

Shepard, Alenko, and Williams crowded around the pilot on the bridge.  Along with the two co-pilots, it made for cramped quarters.  Alenko leaned between them for a better look.  “Check out those AA guns.  That’s some serious artillery.”

Williams was dismayed.  “There’s no way the ship can land with those guns pointed up our ass.”

“Alright, so we take out the guns first.”  Nothing could spoil Shepard’s good mood.  “Joker, find me a Mako drop zone.”

“We could do it here, hard and low, under the radar,” he said, pointing.  “Nice open corridor, right on the beach.  You get all the best assignments.”

“We’ll be waiting below decks.”  Shepard jerked her chin aft and her team departed to suit up.

Joker called over his shoulder.  “At least bring me back a t-shirt, or something!”

She rolled her eyes and kept walking.

Twenty minutes later, the tank hit the surf, sending up a fountain of salt water.  The Mako splashed through the wavelets and rolled to a halt.  From the way the wheels bit into the ground, Shepard could tell the terrain was rotten, soft and waterlogged, bad for maneuvers.  It was guaranteed that they would run afoul of geth fortifications.  This was Saren’s stronghold.  She knew it in her bones.  There was no chance it wouldn’t be soundly defended.

Alenko studied the instrumentation.  They were back on an even keel, polite, friendly even, but they still hadn’t spoken of what happened.  More than a week of not talking about it amounted to deliberately avoiding the subject.  She wished she could claim to be surprised.  At some point she was too much for anybody, and in all truth, Shepard had experienced worse ways of dealing with that problem than pretending it didn’t exist.  It was a shame.  She’d been enjoying the infatuation stage.  Its rapid erosion left her a bit sad.

He glanced up from the display.  “There’s a winding path through a series of tidal lagoons, threading the cliffs.  It should take us to the STG signal.”

“Let’s roll.”  The Mako rumbled forward, gaining speed.

The scenery was idyllic, almost paradisal.  Weathered rock sheltered coves where sun-warmed seawater gathered, no more than fifteen centimeters deep and lapping gently at their wheels.  Moss clung to the face of the cliffs, scattered with verdant trees, their roots buried deep in any nook sufficiently recessed to catch a few handfuls of windblown soil.  Where the path narrowed, vines heavy with parasitic plant life hung over the gap, providing living bridges for small animals with glinting eyes and bushy tails. 

Blocks of broken stone lay tumbled on the sand.  Where a break in the cliffs afforded a view of the ocean, steady rows of fallen rock protected the lagoon from the harsh waves of the deeper water.  She could make out lighthouses in the roiling blue, starkly modern and jarringly utilitarian, sentinels strung along the shore and bearing the odd lines favored by geth design.

Their tires kicked up a playful spray.  Droplets caught the fading afternoon light and scattered tiny rainbows across the Mako’s front console.  Shepard doubted comfort or a pleasant climate factored much into Saren’s selection of this world to host his base, but it couldn’t hurt.  The thought of him enjoying tropical Virmire while they chased one dead lead after another rankled to no end.  She wondered if turians could tan.

In the back of the tank, Williams peered through the Mako scope, making use of the many cameras.  The humidity fogged their lenses.  “Looks like we’re coming up on a gatehouse of some kind.”

“Contacts?” she asked, automatically.

“Negative,” Alenko answered.  “Not what I expected.”

“Me neither.”  She steered them around the final bend.  A massive barricade rose up two stories high, its faceless metal wall a blemish on the landscape.  The steel sheets were pitted with salt corrosion and rusted at the waterline.  A corrugated stairway on the portside end led to the observation deck, and on the ground level, two large bay doors gaped open wide.  There was not a geth in sight.

Shepard brought the Mako to a halt.  “Guns?”

“Also negative.”  Alenko frowned.  “This is a perfect bottleneck.  Why leave it undefended?”

“Maybe the salarians got here first?” Williams suggested.

“Sure, but why not re-man the barricades after the salarians passed?  We’re talking about a single STG team, not a platoon.”  Shepard pursed her lips.  “Something more critical is holding their attention.”

Williams rolled her eyes, impatient.  “Again, I say the salarians.  Small or not, you know what they say about STG.”

“Well, I’m not going to complain about one less garrison to capture.”  Shepard shrugged and hit the accelerator.  The Mako rolled through the gates.

They drove on in relative quiet for a further kilometer, over beaches and through shadowed valleys, before the ladar beeped a warning.  Alenko sat up in his seat.  “Multiple contacts.  Signatures match geth infantry and drones.”

She swiped her hand across the haptic controls, her smile fierce and hungry.  “Hold on tight.”

Scanners worked both ways.  The geth were waiting for them as they swung into view.  Bullets pinged off the Mako’s shields.  Ash was more than eager to answer with the artillery gun.  They were jostled in their seats as Shepard bumped over the nearest geth.

Alenko held onto a brace running the length of the roof with one hand while punching commands into the ladar with the other.  “You know, it’s not obligatory to conquer your enemies by grinding them into the dirt.” 

“Sand,” she corrected cheerfully, aiming for the next unit.  “And I believe adding a third weapon to our arsenal confers a respectable tactical advantage.”

“You just like treating them like bowling pins.”

“A bowling ball hits one or two pins and uses them to knock down the others.  This is more like whack-a-mole.”

He snorted.  “Carnival games.  Nice.”

Williams swiveled the gun.    “It’s going to be pies to faces if you don’t look where you’re going.”

“Never stopped, Chief.”  Under Shepard’s skilled hands, the Mako pivoted like an elephant ballerina, fluid, graceful, and unstoppable.  It struck a geth with enough force to tear the chassis in half, spraying milky fluid across the hood.  Its flashlight flickered and died.

“Two on our flank,” Alenko called out.

Williams aimed and fired.  The disintegrated drones rained shrapnel down on the lagoon.  Shepard’s eyes scanned the cove, taking rapid stock.  No sign of any active geth.  “Are we clear?”

Alenko scrutinized the ladar.  “I think we’re good.  Turn east.”

“Roger that.”  They drove on, leaving the scrap twitching and sparking in the water behind them.

It was pure fun, plowing the tank through the wavelets, playing peek-a-boo with the sun as they rode in and out of the cliffside shadows, dodging four-legged crustaceans as high as Shepard’s knees.  The wind was picking up.  Outside the Mako viewports, sea grass bowed in the breeze, salt spray shining in the air.  She was forced to turn the tank into the wind; the broad side acted exactly like a sail.  “Where’s our next bottleneck?”

Alenko checked the map.  “Should be another barricade coming up.  Exactly like the first, except for the AA guns mounted up on top.”

Williams snorted.  “They won’t have left those behind.”

“Nope.”  Shepard steered them through an s-bend in the lagoon.  “If it’s not crawling with geth, I’m quitting show business.”

“If it’s not crawling with geth, we’re going to waste a lot of time checking for explosives,” Alenko stated flatly.  “The only reason to not fight to bitter end in defense of something as strategically important as those guns is if you can get something better in return, like a deadly ambush.”

Shepard rolled her eyes.  “Thank you, Lieutenant, for that stirring burst of optimism.”

He adjusted the display.  “Worried your position as cynic-in-chief might not be as secure as you thought?”

She was startled enough to take her eyes off their path, but he was grinning down at the console.  Watching him tease her, happy as anyone about to finally have something constructive to do, it hit her over the head all over again just how much she liked him.  The feeling curled up in her stomach like a warm, contented cat.  “You might want to be careful.  These waters might be deeper than you think.”

“The Mako’s good to three hundred meters.”  His smirk shifted to her.  “I think we’ll survive.”

Part of her wanted to freeze this feeling for as long as she could, and another part wanted to fuck it up as quickly as possible, and get it over with before it had too much power to hurt.  That was why they hadn’t talked about the fight.  Shepard didn’t know which outcome she wanted.

She stole another glance.  _I want the one where he still smiles at me like that no matter what happens_. 

Unfortunately, that option was never on the table.  One day, tomorrow, years from now, it didn’t matter- one day, she’d have a neatly-labeled drawer in one of those rooms in her head inscribed with his name and racked beside the other drawers, full of Todd’s stupid jokes, Quinn’s drunken rambles, Nehal’s motorcycle, and the rest of it.  There was nothing safe or comfortable waiting for her at the end of this chute.  There never was.  The slide down was all they got.  That and a hard drop on a cold floor when their time ran out.

“I got something at ten o’clock, ma’am.”  Williams swung the gun around, firing off a heavy round.  There was a small explosion.  “Prime, I think.”

Not for the first time, Shepard was impressed by Ash’s gift of aim.  “Where you find leaders, you’ll find grunts.”

“Copy that.”  She let off another burst of fire, squinting at the sights.

“Three groups, more than a half dozen to each,” Alenko reported.  “The barricade’s just ahead.”

“Those AA guns can’t fire on us, right?”  Shepard applied more speed.

“Affirmative, they don’t have the turning radius for a firing solution on the ground.”

“Then it’s just regular artillery.”  She had nothing to fear from that.  The commander spared a glance at the ladar.  “Steady as she goes down the starboard, eliminate the first group, and use their cover to take out groups two and three.”

In the back, Williams shifted along with the Mako’s main cannon.  “Aye aye, ma’am.”

Bullets chewed up the ground as they flew for the shelter of the fallen boulders, filling the air with water and pulpy sand.  The vehicle rocked as a geth RPG hit their shields. 

“First kinetic barrier at fifty percent.”  Alenko jabbed his thumb at the electronic warning to silence it.

“Noted.”  They flashed behind the rocks.  Chips flew up where a second explosive, sighted on them, smashed against the stone.  Ash’s work cleared the way, and the area was free of hostiles.  Shepard swerved to a crawl, almost spinning out between the rapid deceleration and the soggy terrain, and shoved them up against the wall at the far end of their cover.

Williams had just enough clearance to poke the main cannon over the edge and return fire.  “I don’t like this, ma’am.  We’re gonna get flanked.”

“I know.”  Shepard unhooked her safety restraint and scooted along the bench, squeezing past Alenko.

“What the hell?” He squirmed out of the way and rubbed his skull where it knocked against the bulkhead.

“Sorry.”  She opened the hatch and dropped down into the water.  The fresh, stinging scent of aerosolized saltwater filled her lungs, a thousand times improved upon the stuffiness of the tank.

From inside the Mako, she heard Williams’ voice.  “What is she doing?”

“I have no idea.  Commander-”  Alenko tried to snag her arm, but she was already out of range.

Shepard called over her shoulder as she slipped away.  “If they get too close, drive towards the barricade.”

The sound of him cursing coupled with that of a hardsuit sliding over a metal couch faded as she scuttled towards the gatehouse, keeping low to the ground to avoid notice.  It was the same as the first; a giant metal and concrete structure built between the cliffs, blocking access into the lagoon beyond.  A boat could have made it around, out on the ocean, but Makos tended to sink. 

She made for the stairs ahead, leading up to the observation deck above the sealed bay doors.  Her comm came to life.  Kaidan.  “You want to explain the plan, Commander?”

“Making it up as I go.”  She heard a staccato of rifle fire.  He must be out of the Mako.  “When you don’t know the terrain ahead of time, you need to improvise.”

“General strategy?”

“Flank them first.”  Shepard arrived at the top of the stairs.  The geth arrayed along the balcony were focused on the lagoon below, and took no notice of the lone marine peeking around the corner.  There were three of them.  Each carried a shoulder-mounted rocket launcher and knelt beside a supply of ammunition.

_Sacrifices_ , she thought, regretfully, and popped over the top of the sheet metal banister.  Her gun sighted on the nearest box of ammo and didn’t miss once.

At about round ten, the box exploded.  If not for a lucky grab, Shepard would have been knocked off the stairs.  As it was, the rockets ripped a hole in the banister and obliterated the geth standing beside it.  The blast also disoriented its two comrades.  How that worked was anyone’s guess- disrupted circuits, damaged sensors, or maybe their software didn’t cope well with sudden, unexpected change, just like human wetware.  As a reminder, her own head throbbed with a sudden, savage pain- still not fully healed.

She was able to shake it off before the geth and took full advantage of their distraction.  Rounding the corner, she took out the second machine before it knew she was moving.  The third returned fire.  She threw herself out of the way of the rocket and behind a pillar.

Alenko’s voice, in her ear, clogged with static from all the geth interference.  “It’s getting hairy down here.  Whatever you’re going to do has to happen soon.”

She stared at the crater left behind by the geth explosive.  “Coming right up.”

It was all speculation, but from what she’d seen of geth tactics over these last several months, Shepard had come to one of two conclusions.  Either the geth had no regard for autonomy whatsoever- a philosophy she found difficult to believe, given they would bear the bias of their creators- or they had virtual copies stored away somewhere, rendering their bodily infrastructure of little consequence.  They threw themselves away in a fight without a shred of protest.  Saren had the personality of a nail gun.  There was no chance he inspired that level of devotion in anything.

That sort of tactic could be an advantage in a massive fight.  Their enemy didn’t care enough to act with defensive precaution and recklessness was exploitable.  One on one, the odds weren’t in her favor.  She didn’t get a reboot if she screwed up.

Shepard took a deep breath, holding the last image of the ground between her and the geth in her mind.  Then she darted out from behind the support.

The geth fired at her immediately, as she expected, which was why she was already reversing direction by the time the rocket left the tube.  Shepard ran around the other side of the pillar, flat-out sprinted to the next, and started shooting before it could reload.  Two shots took down its shields.  A third burrowed through its torso with a splintering of metal and plastic.

She ducked back into cover as it drew a less clumsy weapon, a shotgun.  Its heavy footsteps clanged against floor as it advanced on her position.  She eased towards the far end of the pillar. 

To port were two doorways, possibly with more geth.  The fight below might have masked her explosion; they might not know anyone was so close.  Running into a blind alley with more potential adversaries was not the course of wisdom.  She slid around the corner to keep the support between her and the rocketeer.

Shepard needed more space.  Closing with the geth was suicide. 

Or maybe not.  The sprout of an idea pushed through the adrenaline and apprehension.  She’d have to be fast, and not a little lucky…  It would also help to be about a foot shorter, but radical surgery seemed unlikely in the next thirty seconds.

She drew her highest caliber weapon.  Geth CPUs were in their heads, just like living people, though at times it seemed a serious design flaw.  The location was both vulnerable and damned hard to hit.  Bullets seemed to skate right off the curved metal, and by now its shields would be back.

As she heard it round the corner, she stepped out to meet it, and as it raised its gun, she moved inside its reach, and not coincidentally inside its protective barriers.  It closed around her immediately.  She just barely managed to keep her right arm mobile.  Her head tucked to her chest, an attempt to block access to her throat, but the machine didn’t bother with points of vulnerability.  It simply wrapped its arms about her chest and squeezed with crushing force.

The ceramic plating of her armor ground together at the edges.  She couldn’t take a breath.  She struggled to raise the gun to position.  And still, the grip continued to tighten.  Much further and she would start popping ribs.

With a muffled gasp, she wrenched her arm the last bit of the way, jammed the muzzle into the arch of its head, and turned her eyes away from the blast just before her finger pulled the trigger.

Shrapnel stung her cheek and the machine spasmed hard enough to twist her spine.  They collapsed together on the floor.

“Shepard?” Her comm buzzed.  “Are you there?”

She brought her finger to her ear and groaned.  “Here.”

“We have to get out of here.”  Alenko’s voice was tight, anxious.

“Hang on.”  She started crawling out from under the weight of the geth, sliding along her stomach.

“I’m not sure-“

Her boot jerked loose.  She scrambled to her feet and ran for the abandoned rocket launcher, shoving a round into the tube.  Popping over the balcony, she saw the two remaining groups converging on the Mako.  One of them was already too close for the tank to effectively target.  Instead, Shepard aimed her rocket.  “Take cover.”

A small, blue-clad figure disappeared fully behind the boulder.  Shortly thereafter, the rocket took out one of the geth and the explosion knocked a further two into the lagoon.  She reloaded.

By the time the last geth twitched into inoperability, Shepard was almost out of rockets, and Alenko had driven the Mako to the gates.  He and Williams stepped outside to join her on the observation deck.  After a brief search, they located the AA gun controls in a back room, burrowed into the rock.  It was quite dark.  Though sunlight and salt had weathered the cliffs to a soft ashy gray, inside, the stone was nearly black. 

Alenko typed into the computer terminal.  “I can shut down the AA guns from here.”

“No,” Shepard said, folding her arms.  “I’ve got a better idea.”

Williams, who was searching for the controls to the bay doors below, looked up.  “The L.T. already said we can’t fire at the ground.”

“What about across the harbor?”  She pointed at an onscreen map.  “The lagoon forms an arc, here, and the third barricade is there, with its own set of guns.  Can we reach it?”

“Maybe, but…”  Alenko shook his head.  “These guns can take out of a frigate.  It’ll demolish the gatehouse.”

“Perfect.  The Mako can climb the rubble.”

He shrugged, as if the day’s events were already too crazy to care, and programmed the instruction.  “Here goes nothing.”

The gatehouse shook as the guns fired off their rounds.  A few endless moments later, a low boom shivered through the atmosphere, penetrating even their tiny cave of a control room.  They peered at the display, but it wasn’t set up to tell them the status of the other systems.  Alenko disabled the gun, and they exited into the sunshine. 

“ _Normandy_ to ground team, come in.”  The interference continued unabated.  The main jammer must be inside Saren’s compound.

Shepard opened up a channel.  “This is Shepard.  Are we clear?”

“Looks like those guns are offline.  We’ve got a lock on the STG team’s position.”

“Great.”  She looked out over the lagoon, wiping away the hair the wind blew in her face.  “Send us the coordinates.  We’ll rendezvous there.”

The commander dropped her hand and let out a breath.  They spent a few minutes standing there, gazing at the water, a small break before confronting whatever waited at the end of this road.  Shepard was more excited than nervous.  All the same, Saren wasn’t going down without a serious fight.  This was far from over.

Alenko folded his arms.  “It smells like rain.”

“There’s lightning out over the ocean,” Williams concurred.  “We’re in for a hell of a storm later.  Look, even the birds are restless.”

Indeed, high in their cliff side roosts, white-feathered birds burrowed into their nests, calling to one another peevishly.  Shepard watched them.  “I don’t understand planets.”

Alenko turned away so she wouldn’t see him swallow a chuckle.  Williams snickered openly.  “There’s wildlife on half the stations in the Alliance.  It sneaks on board the ships and takes up residence.”

“Not birds,” she protested.  “And how can you smell rain, anyway?”

Alenko shrugged.  “The same way you can smell snow.”

The memory of the clean, cold, hard scent of the blizzard on Noveria was so strong that for a second she could feel it, raw and rough, against her face.  Her fingers touched her cheek, and came away with small spatters of blood from where bits of decapitated geth had cut the skin.  Her mouth hardened.  “Let’s go.”

/\/\/\/\/\

The _Normandy_ beat them to the salarian camp by the better part of twenty minutes.  When the Mako rolled up, Shepard found her ship parked in the shallows, and her crew setting up camp on the shore.  She dropped down from the tank and sloshed her way to dry land. 

Portable STG facilities, canvas-swathed collapsible tents, were interspersed with makeshift human accommodations.  The camp was an anthill.  In the center of the maelstrom stood a salarian, tall and spare in his black armor, perfectly calm.  She noted how the other salarians deferred to his judgment, and approached.

Just as she opened her mouth, a peal of thunder shook the sky.  They both glanced up at the darkening clouds.  Sundown was near, and the weather hadn’t gotten any clearer.  She offered the man a wry smile.  “Thematic, huh?”

“You must be the commander everyone is waiting for.”  He extended his hand.  Brown spots marred the green skin.  “Captain Kirrahe, Third Infiltration Regiment STG.”

“Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy.”  She shook it.

He eyed her, speculative.  “The newest spectre.  You’re… not what I expected.”

“It’s amazing the number of people who somehow thought I’d magically resemble a turian instead of a human being.”  Her smile broadened.  “Or a salarian.”

“Point taken.”  He nodded at the controlled chaos.  “Welcome to our camp.”

She glanced between the tents and hills, where the top of Saren’s facility was just visible above the rock line.  “Had any trouble with sorties?  You’re awful close here.”  


“Unfortunately one does not choose where one’s ship is shot down.  This was the closest sheltered area.”  Kirrahe shrugged, philosophically.  “We’ve tangled with the occasional patrol, nothing we couldn’t handle.  I fear we may all be trapped here.  Your ship’s landing will not have passed unnoticed.  Every automated defense is now trained squarely on this location.”

She rested her hands on her hips.  “You got a plan?”

He blinked, inner and outer eyelids both.  “We wait for Citadel reinforcements to arrive.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your crew indicated our distress call was received.  I told them to send a platoon.”

“Nobody could understand your transmission.  It was completely garbled.”  Shepard sighed gestured at the _Normandy_ , resting sedately in the middle of the lagoon.  “You’ve got a frigate.”

His mouth fell open.  “I lost half my men investigating this place.  There are not nearly enough of us left for an effective attack.  And we’ll never escape so long as its AA defenses are online.”

“I wasn’t planning on escaping.”  She glanced again towards the facility.  “For Saren Arterius, this is the end of the line.”

“Well, at least your sense of humor is intact.”  Kirrahe scoffed, and muttered under his breath. 

She switched tactics.  “What did half your men buy you in terms of information?”

“As you’ve deduced, this is Saren’s base of operations.  He’s set up a research facility here, but it’s crawling with geth and very well-fortified.  We haven’t seen the man himself.  Intercepted comms indicate he’s in residence.”  The captain paused.  “Saren is using this stronghold to breed an army of krogan.”

Shepard rubbed her eyes.  “So the rumors he’s found a cure for the genophage…”

“Evidently, well-founded.”  Kirrahe’s gaze swept the camp.  “A new plan is required.  I need to confer with my men.  Please, settle in.  I suspect we’ll be here at least until morning.”

“Thank you.”  She watched him leave, and attempted to stave off the feeling of deflation.  It wasn’t exactly the tide of justice she imagined, but they’d make do.  The rest of her team was waiting.

In a few short sentences, she laid out the situation.  Their expressions grew more concerned with every word.  When she reached the part about the krogan, Wrex could no longer contain himself.  “That bastard Inamorda was right?  This changes everything.”

“It changes nothing.”  Ashley crossed her arms.  “This is Saren’s stronghold.  We have to take it out.”

He took a step towards her.  “This could be the last chance for my people.”

“Wrex,” Shepard began, in a perfectly reasonable tone.

“I’ve trusted you, Shepard, but I won’t stand by and let you destroy this.  I can’t.”  He shoved past Ash and stalked along the water, until he was too far away for them to hear the muttered mix of oaths and curses.  The commander watched him draw his shotgun and fire into the lagoon.

“Fantastic,” Alenko said, running his hand over his hair.

Garrus sat back on his heels.  “That was quite the outburst, even by his standards.  I don’t know if we can trust him on this.”

She spared the krogan another long, lingering glance, livid.  “He’ll fall into line.”

Her tone promised consequences in the event of any other result.  Shepard didn’t brook challenges to her command lightly.

“We’re not thinking about this clearly.”  Liara attempted to bring the discussion back on point.  “If this is Saren’s headquarters, we may find more than a genophage cure.  Records of everything he’s done, all the artifacts he’s found- can you imagine the wealth of information that might reside in these halls?”

An alarm went off in Shepard’s head.  “Artifacts.  Where the hell is his ship?”

The five of them stared at her.  She gestured, frustrated.  “ _Sovereign_ or whatever the hell.  We didn’t see it in orbit, and we didn’t see it on the ground when we scanned the area.  Where is it?”

After a moment, Kaidan answered, in the careful, tentative voice of a person not certain the one he addressed was entirely sensible.  “It’s his largest mobile asset.  It could be anywhere.  There’s no reason why he needs to stay with it at all times.”

She started to reply, hotly, that she’d certainly never let _her_ ship go wandering the galaxy sans its commander, before her common sense informed her that sounded seven kinds of crazy.  Instead, she blew out a breath.  “Trust me, he’s not going to leave his ship.  And we all saw the kind of destruction it can dish out on Eden Prime.”

Fat dollops of rain began to sprinkle the sand, wetting their heads and pinging off their armor.  It was a harbinger of the deluge to come.  The air shivered in anticipation.

“We should get into cover,” Liara suggested, as a jagged fork of lightning spiked down through the twilight purple sky.  It was followed a scant second later by a nasty crack of thunder that left Shepard’s ears ringing.

“Planets,” she groused, and they retreated to a tent. 

The STG unit salvaged food stores from their downed ship, stacked in crates along the weatherproofed canvas walls.  It was almost pure protein and not to Shepard’s liking, but she knew better than to ask its origins.  It was impossible to avoid recalling that salarians were to newts as humans were to apes- with all associated dietary implications.

She longed for a freeze pack meal from _Normandy’s_ stores, but bore the unpalatable cuisine with bitter grace in order to question several of Kirrahe’s team on the exact circumstances of their shipwreck.  The story was typical.  They identified the facility from orbital scans, and made a low pass in the ship to collect precision data.  Their pilot thought the approach path kept them off Saren’s instruments, by virtue of altitude and line of sight, but apparently the geth had more advanced threat detection technology.  The subsequent antiaircraft strike destroyed part of their intrasystem drive, rendering the ship incapable of achieving orbit.

As twilight surrounded them and the rain began to fall in earnest, with the muddled stink of water on hot sand, the tent seemed to shrink about her.  The humid air left every surface slick with condensation.  It was only too easy to imagine this was a jungle rather than a beach, or that the crewmen, salarian and human both chatting as they ate their rations, wore other faces from a different time.  That night six years ago on Akuze lay against this one with discomfiting familiarity.  It set her on edge.

Captain Kirrahe appeared at the tent flap just minutes after the skies opened, dripping water.  A second salarian was close at his heels.  “Commander, I believe we have a strategy.”

The rain drumming on the tent was nearly too loud to make out his voice.  Shepard put the meal aside without regret and walked over to him.  “What’s that?”

“I said, I have a plan.”  He gestured at the other salarian.  “This is Commander Rentola, our supply officer.  I asked him to make an inventory of anything useful still intact aboard our ship.”

Rentola’s eyes shifted.  With salarians, it seemed to be an indication of thought rather than of duplicity.  “Commander, our analysis indicates that a small strike team could disable the defenses long enough to permit escape.”

“Not an option,” she said immediately.  “Saren knows we know about this place.  By the time we convince the Council to send an armada, it’ll be abandoned.  We need a way to take it out now.”

Kirrahe’s mouth twitched.  “We thought you might say that.  As it happens, I agree.  This threat must be terminated.  There is also the risk that once in orbit, his dreadnought would pursue and destroy us.  Our calculations show it moves faster than any ship we’ve seen before.”  


“So what’s the real plan?”

“Our drive core was undamaged.”  Rentola sounded annoyed, as if he deeply mistrusted this exercise.  “It’s theoretically possible to reconfigure the drive as an explosive device, equivalent of a nuclear bomb.”

She stared at him a moment, then glanced away.  “Tali, are you hearing this?”

The quarian looked up from her datapad.  “What he is saying is possible, but dangerous.”

“It could explode prematurely?”

“Nothing like that.”  She wandered over, folding her arms across her middle.  “The device should be impervious to external destruction.  However, that same quality will make it almost impossible to stop once the detonation sequence is initiated.”

“Twenty kilotons,” Rentola elaborated, his voice flat.  “Enough to lay waste to this entire cove, and everything residing in it.”

“So we set it off after we’re clear.”  Shepard didn’t see the problem.

Rentola’s mouth was a hard, thin line.  Kirrahe’s expression was shadowed.  “The only way this plan works is if the strike team planting the bomb remains undetected.  For that, we need something to distract their forces.  A frontal assault.”

Tali’s arms tightened.  Shepard felt her stomach turn.  She averted her eyes and digested that a long moment, as her brain ran calculations.  Finally, she looked back and rubbed at the side of her nose.  “It’s going to cost you.”

Kirrahe withdrew a small device and set it on a table.  It flickered to life, projecting a crude holographic representation of the surrounding terrain, including Saren’s facility.  “Your strike team can sneak through here, around the back.  Meanwhile I’ll place three teams at these locations.”  He pointed, his fingers leaving red dots on the display.  “Each position is at a bottleneck in the lagoons.  They should be defensible long enough for you to disable the AA guns.  Your ship can then ferry the bomb to an internal location, here.”

By then, the rest of her squad had found their way to the conversation.  They crowded around and examined the plan.  Alenko peered into the complex.  “What’s special about the bomb site?”

“We estimate it gives us a good chance of destroying the whole facility.  Also, it’s a waste water collection site, deep inside the walls.  Defenses should be minimal.”

Shepard nodded.  “And your teams?”

“There should be enough warning to allow us to retreat out of the blast zone.”

“No.”  She shook her head.  “ _Normandy_ can fly back and collect the survivors while we’re setting up the bomb.  No one gets left behind.”

“As you wish.  It will leave the bomb team vulnerable.”  Kirrahe seemed torn between the promise of evacuation and the security of the mission.

Shepard leaned back.  She’d seen all she needed.  “I can give you half my marines.  It’s not much, but I need the rest to secure the bomb.  Even with the defense towers offline, somebody will notice when the ship goes airborne, and send a squad to investigate.”

The captain nodded.  “I’ll need one of them to act as a liaison between our teams.”

“Should be simple,” Alenko said, his eyes scanning the map.  “It might be better to keep all of us in one of the salarian teams- less confusion.”

Williams rested a hand on her hip.  “Not so fast, L.T.  The skipper’s going to need your help with the bomb.”

He glared.  “The marines are my purview, Chief.”

“And half the marines are going with the bomb,” she explained patiently, as if to a child.

Shepard put a stop to the bickering with dry irritation.  “I don’t recall asking either of you for advice.”

Kirrahe shrugged.  “It makes no difference to me, as long as your choice is familiar with your communication protocols.”

She licked her lips, assessing rapidly.  “Chief Williams will stay with the STG squad.”

Alenko was incensed.  “Ma’am-“

“I do need you with the bomb,” she interrupted before the argument could go any further.  “You’re the closest thing I’ve got to a combat engineer.”

“A monkey can set a damn timer.”

“And if it doesn’t go that smoothly?”  Shepard raised an eyebrow.  “I am not going to have Adams’ techs wading around in a combat zone.  Basic was a long time ago.  I need someone I know can operate under that kind of pressure.”

Her tone brooked no argument.  He scowled.  “Permission to leave?”

“Granted.”  Then, as he turned to go, she added, “Start figuring out who stays and who goes.”

His expression approached disbelief.  Hers was calm.  “As you said, this is your job.  I sure as hell don’t have the time to do mine as well as yours.”

Alenko took a steadying breath, nodded curtly, and pushed through the tent flap with a brief gust of rain.  Shepard found Williams sporting a grin to put a cheshire cat to shame.  That simply angered her.  “I never saw anyone so happy about being handed a chance to die.”

The smile vanished.  Shepard maintained a level stare.  “Kirrahe.  How do you like your odds?”

“Casualties should be acceptable given the nature of the exercise.”  He blinked his inner lids slowly.  “We’re tougher than we look, Commander.  But it’s true.  I don’t expect many of us will make it out alive.”

She nodded acknowledgement, her gaze pinning Ash.  “The lieutenant is deciding, right now, who gets the best shot to live.  And when he makes his choice, he’s going leave those people to face it alone.  He won’t be there.  You’ve never commanded anything, not for real, not when it’s still cold, and you have no earthly idea how hard that is.”

Williams crossed her arms and scowled.  “Yeah, almost as hard as doing the actual dying.”

“You believe in god,” Shepard said.  “Open a comm channel to the afterlife once I’m dead and ask me which was harder.”

Ash paled somewhat, and swallowed.

After a moment, Shepard continued in a milder tone.  “You’re next in rank, but I will give this assignment to _Normandy’s_ VI before I let you take charge of the comm, if you’re not going to take it seriously.  Team… what are we called?”

She glanced at Kirrahe, who promptly obliged the inquiry.  “The infiltration team is Shadow.  The other three are Aegohr, Mannovai, and Jaeto, after our first colonies.  The names will remind us what we fight for.”

“Fitting.”  Shepard returned to Ash.  “Shadow Team will need information about what’s happening on the front, and we’ll have to communicate the detonation timing with precision.  No heroics, no glory, just solid, reliable work.  Are you up for that?”

Chief Williams drew herself up. “Yes, ma’am.” 

Shepard checked off that issue as handled, and moved on to the last.  “Kirrahe- you’re recon.  This is infantry work.  Can your men handle it?”

“Yes.”  His nod was firm.  “We all do what we must.”

“Good.”  She glanced around the table.  “Anything else?”

“Who’s on Shadow?” Garrus asked.

“All of us.”  She looked from one face to the next.  “I’m not taking any chances I don’t have to.”

Liara nodded.  “We’ll be ready, Shepard.”

She stared at the tent flap and the growing puddle around its bottom.  “Go make whatever preparations you need.  I’ve got a bigger problem to solve.”

“Kaidan?” Tali asked.

Shepard shook her head.  “No.  Wrex.”


	46. Meet Sovereign

Shepard stepped out into the night and rain.  The wet wind lashed at her hair and trickled down into her suit.  In the distance, thunder boomed; the storm was moving off, but not yet passed.

Closer to hand, there was another type of thunder, and flashes of light harsh enough to hurt her eyes.  Wrex continued to fire on the sea.  Shepard was certain any fish had long since scattered in terror. 

Each shot reminded her of watching a different set of bullets in the dark, on a different tropical world.  Her insides clenched with every round.  Her boots fell lightly on the ground with exaggerated care, unable to totally stop herself from guarding against nonexistent thresher maws.  The rain scoured her face and made her want to flee for the trees.  But Shepard didn’t allow her expression to so much as twitch.  Krogan were predators.  Heading into a confrontation with anything less than absolute confidence would get them both killed.

She drew up beside him, rested her hands on her hips, and waited, patient as a stone.

He let out a growl and lowered the gun.  “This isn’t right, Shepard.  If there’s a cure for the genophage, we can’t destroy it.”

This wasn’t the Wrex she knew- cynical, indifferent, violent.  He spoke with longing and desperation.  This was his dream, whether he admitted it or not- his deepest hope, and the very thing he gave up on when he chose to leave Tuchanka.  Now it was close at hand and she had no choice but to treat it as a threat.  Her present frame of mind was taxed to its limit without navigating his delicate sensibilities.  She licked her lips.  “I’m not the enemy here, Wrex.  Saren is the one-“

“Saren created a cure for my people,” he snarled in a voice as rough as the brackish water lapping their boots, and a rabid look in his eyes that made Shepard’s palm itch for her gun.  “You want to destroy it.  You take the advice of a salarian you just met over mine.”

He took several steps toward her.  He was a giant in the night, maroon and brownish black.  “The lines between friend and foe are getting a bit blurry.”

Her expression hardened.  “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you.”

Wrex shoved his snout into her face.  Lightning split the sky, turning his armor the color of wet blood.  For a wild half-second she thought he might head butt her.  Water dripped off his cranial ridge.  His lip curled.  “Indulge me.”

The heat of his breath was rancid on her skin.  Her hand closed over her pistol.  “You owe me.”

“You earned my loyalty,” he acknowledged.  “Hell, you’ve done more for me than my family ever did.  But this is different.  This is the future of my entire race.”

Half of her was on Akuze and half of her was here, and there was absolutely nothing left to deal with Wrex’s angst in any diplomatic fashion.  Right now he was a problem that needed resolution.  She drew the gun.  “Get your head out of your ass.”

“What?!”  He raised his shotgun, but the motion was unsure, as if this conversation took an unexpected turn.

Shepard stepped back, gaining some distance.  Her pistol glinted in the night.  A sudden gust sent the rain driving into her eyes, but she didn’t flinch.  “Control yourself, Wrex.  That’s an order.”

His grip tightened.  “So that’s it?  That’s all I get from you, of all people?  I trusted you.”

“You’re lying.”  Her eyes were cold.  “If you trusted me, you’d think about this, instead of simply reacting, like some kind of base animal.”

“You’ll regret those words.”  He surged forward.

Shepard fired a warning shot close enough to graze the scars on his cheek.  The bullet glanced off the armor of his hump and scattered into the night.  Wrex stopped moving.

“You’re a real stubborn bastard, you know that?”  Shepard jerked her head towards the facility.  “Are those krogan your people?  Your brothers?  Or are they servants of Saren, bred to his will?”

Wrex straightened, surprise written in his stance.  She pressed the point.  “You’ve seen them.  They’re clumsy, awkward, and they all look the same- like clones or worse.  These krogan are slaves.  Puppets, tools to be used and discarded.  Is that the future you want for your people?”

He wavered.  “No.  That’s not- you’re missing the point.”

“Show me a cure, a real cure, and not self-serving nonsense concocted by a madman, and I will be the first person to help you to fight for it.”  Shepard relaxed her finger on the trigger, just a bit.  Then she lowered the gun entirely.  “What Saren’s doing will hurt everyone, including the krogan.  You’ve seen it.  You know I’m right.”

“We were tools for the Council once.”  Wrex shuddered and also lowered his weapon.  “They neutered us in thanks.  I doubt Saren will be so generous.”

Just then, people poured from the tents, drawn by the shot.  They paused as they arrived at the scene, uncertain how to proceed, exchanging nervous glances.

Shepard holstered her pistol and called to the crowd.  “It’s ok.  We’re done here.”

“Just one thing, Shepard.”  Wrex grinned, entirely without humor.

“And what’s that?”

“When we find Saren, I want his head.”

“Like I said, you owe me, and he owes me for a lot more.”  She snorted and squelched to the tents, eager to be out of the rain.  “You want his head, you’ll have to fight me for it.”

His laugh followed her.  To their very confused audience, she said, “Get some sleep.  We strike at dawn.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Late that night, after tossing and turning fruitlessly for hours, Shepard went for a walk to clear her mind.  The rain had passed, leaving behind starlight and dripping foliage.  The soft rush of the surf sent most of the team to sleep, salarians and humans alike, in defiance of the coming morning, and the cove felt like a lost and empty island.

She stumbled on Kaidan standing in the breakers, arms crossed, looking out over the water.  “Can’t sleep either, huh?”

He glanced at her, a smile touching his face for the space of an instant, before brooding anxiety chased it away.  “It’s calmer out here than in there.  Worry has a stench.”

Shepard hooked her thumbs in her pockets.  “Big day tomorrow.”

“About that.”  He hesitated.  His look was pleading.  “Commander, Kirrahe’s lieutenant, Rentola, briefed me on the detonation procedures.  It’s like programming an alarm clock.  There’s nobody on this crew who couldn’t follow them.  If you’d let me-”

“We can’t do this.”  She shook her head.  “We can’t go twenty rounds every time I give an order you don’t care for just because I like the sound of your voice.”

He opened his mouth, snapped it shut, and stayed quiet a long moment.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry.  I just...“

“I know.”  Her eyes drifted upwards, taking in the sky.  Saren wasn’t big on security lights.  The stars were pins sparkling in a quilt of velvet, the plane of the galaxy a luminous splash of milk over the cloth.  “I mentioned I read your dossier, back on Mars.  Seems like eons ago.  I was surprised when you told me Jenkins was the first man you’d lost.  Some of those missions were nasty business.”

“Yeah.”  His jaw tightened.

“Learning to trust yourself in situations like this is a process.”

His gaze slid to her, barely brighter than a shadow in the dark.  “How many have you lost?”

“Sixty-four,” she answered, after a moment.  “Most of that was Akuze.” 

His hands slid into his pockets.  He joined in her in watching the sky, quiet, but companionable.  Waiting for her to say more, accepting if she didn’t.

She licked her lips.  They tasted of bitter salt.  Her mouth ran away, rambling, before she could stop it.  “You know, I can still remember each of their names, their ranks.  I didn’t know many of them well but I was obsessed afterwards.  I read the list every single day until they sunk in.  But I can’t recall what they looked like, not one of them.  It’s the damnedest thing.  It keeps replaying in my head and they’re just fleshy blurs, terrified faceless people.”

“You’re having flashbacks?”  He was startled, and concerned.

“Ever since things quieted down.  Akuze is jungle, but the climate’s like here, all heat and rain.”  There was more relief than daring in the admission, like that of collapsing into a chair after spending the day standing at attention.  She felt like she’d been standing for years.  Somehow, releasing it into the dark made it seem less likely to eat her alive, even if there was no hope of tracking it or predicting the disasters it might cause.

Shepard could feel him watching her.  “You don’t talk about it much.”  


“Would you?”  She returned her gaze to the stars.  “Their voices, though, those I remember.”

Death like that didn’t come clean.  It came in shrieks and wails, curses and cries.  Shepard wrapped her arms about herself, trying to look at ease, but standing so stiffly the lapping of the lagoon gently eroded the sand around her boots and left her unsteady on her feet.  How many more would she hear after tomorrow?  Impossible to say.

Kaidan shuffled beside her.  She couldn’t say what she wanted from him; maybe to not be so uncomfortable.  With most people her history was a book not only firmly shut but chained closed.  There was no point in discussing it.  Shepard had no idea why she was testing his limits, on this of all nights.

Abruptly, she said, “I hate losing people.  I hate it more than I thought I had the capacity to hate anything.  There’s going to be a body count at the end of this run, marines, salarians, it doesn’t matter- and I can’t stop thinking about the past while I’m thinking about that.”

“You have quite a lot of it.”

“What?”

“Past.”  His mouth turned up at the corner, a bit sympathetic and a bit resigned.  “I’m not foolish enough to think you’ll ever tell me the half of it, but I can see it on your face sometimes.”

She shook her head.  “You don’t know want to know the half of it.”

They watched the lagoon surge and shift softly under the starlight.  After several minutes of silence, he said, “What happened with Balak?”

That drew a spark of anger.  “I told you what happened.”

“No,” he said carefully.  “I mean- why?”

Her arms tightened over her stomach.  He uncrossed his arms and looked over at her.  “I’m not looking for a fight.  I want to understand.”

“Nobody wants to understand this.”

“Try me.”

She pushed the hair out of her eyes, at last more exasperated than defensive.  “Anderson calls it chasing the devil.”

“I don’t think you were looking for trouble.  Laine had you wound up tighter than a corkscrew, just waiting to pop.”

“It’s not making trouble.  It’s an… impulse.”  She chewed her lip.  “Look, you want to put reason and logic to it, but there isn’t any.”

“I’m not trying to judge.”  There was an unexpected patience in his prodding.  If anything, he seemed bewildered; not angry, nor disappointed. 

Shepard struggled after the words for something she’d never attempted to explain, because it was shameful, one of those things never discussed in polite company.  “Batarians, turians, whatever- that’s politics.  They’re not the enemy.  There’s only one Enemy, and we’re all fighting it.”

Something rang weary in her tone.  His brow furrowed.  “I don’t get it.”

“Nothing to get.  It’s the same thing that makes us think killing each other is a good way to fix our problems in the first place.”  She blew out a breath.  “Death is the only battle you can’t win.  When Balak blew up those hostages, he thought he’d beaten me.  I wanted to- I wanted him to pay for it.”

“It’s also the only battle we’re all bound to lose.  What we do matters.”

“If I didn’t believe that, do you think I would have bothered to lie to you?”

“Laine had you wound up pretty tight,” he reiterated.

Shepard was exasperated, and defeated.  “I could blame it on Laine, I could blame it on our old batarian mission, really dig into the deep psychology of it- but hell, Kaidan.  It wasn’t that complicated.”

“I know what it’s like to lose control-“

“I was fully aware of what I was doing.”  Her common sense was kicking her, but she could no more stop herself than fly.  Shepard wanted to push as far as it went and get it over with.  Let him have his moment of disillusioned disgust and let her give her attention back to her mission.  “Wrex isn’t all wrong.  A part of me _does_ like this.  Even right now, I don’t for second believe Balak didn’t deserve it.”

He regarded her for a long moment, turning it over in his mind, so long that her defiance burned away and left only regret, laced with a taste of fear.  She braced herself for the coming onslaught. 

Then he turned back to the water.  “Ok.”

She blinked, a bit deflated.  “That’s it?”

“I wish you’d been honest with me,” he admitted.  “About Balak, the Cerberus data, and who knows what else.  I wish you felt like you could trust me.”

“You called it torture.”  Shepard was flabbergasted.  “You don’t believe anyone deserves what I did to him.”

“No.”  He shrugged.  “But I don’t believe you deserve what you do to yourself, either.  Because it is complicated.  Balak backed you into a corner, and you did what wounded people do.  If that’s not losing control, I don’t know what is.  Balak bit off more than he could chew.”

“But we’re more than survival.  Or is that not what you meant?” 

“Not in those circumstances.  We don’t always get a choice.”  He glanced at her, a touch rueful.  “Or at least that’s what you keep telling me about Brain Camp.”

Her cheeks warmed.  Shepard felt silly and not a little foolish.  In hindsight, it all seemed so pointless, and made her glad of the dark.  “I’m sorry I lied.  I… liked you liking me.  It’s been awhile since… Look, I know I’m damaged.  It’s not a mystery.  It is a problem for people who get close to me, and I guess I wanted to put off you finding that out for as long as possible.”

He scooted a few inches closer, shoving her a bit.  “Nah.  You’re not damaged.”

She looked at him askance.  “It’s like Hackett said.  I defy orders.  I lose my temper.  I make terrible decisions-  Laine _shoots_ our C.O. because she wouldn’t give him a snack.  Her name was Iza Chahine.  And what do I do?  Punish him?  No, I lied about it and I took her corpse and I- and I did it to save my own life.  How the hell-”

“See, that’s your problem.  You’re leaving out the most important part.”

“And what part is that?”

“You did what you did, to save your life and the lives of your crew.”  He offered her a level stare.  “Look, if it’d just been you and the dead woman on that ship, would you have done it?”

“No,” she answered immediately, and with feeling.

He gave her a smile, a real one, unrestrained.  “There is nothing you wouldn’t do to safeguard the people whose lives are in your hands.  That makes you a decent person.  Screw-ups and all.”  Then he chuckled.  “You have to admit- your screw-ups are spectacular.  Face first through a wall, just like a cartoon.”

“Nothing but a Nathaly-shaped hole left behind.”  She joked back, weakly, trying to imitate his mood, but it was ineffective. 

Shepard turned back to the lagoon, wiped at her nose.  After a long moment she spoke, as if her voice were coming from somewhere else, another place and time.  “All we had to cook with was this tiny, ancient microwave. It was a small ship and the stench got into everything.  Since it happened, just the _smell_ of meat makes me want to gag.  I hate it.”

He considered his response.  The situation was delicate; too light, and he’d offend her.  Too serious, and she’d close back up to protect herself.  “That’s a shame.”

“Why’s that?”

He shrugged philosophically.  “Steak is pretty good.”

She bounced once on her toes, and reflected on that.  “Yeah.  It is.”

His arm slid around her, comforting, and she leaned into it, neither caring much who else might be awake.  Despite the early hour, the air was quite warm, and a balmy sea breeze whispered over their skin.  Even the _Normandy_ was a simple hulking shadow blotting out the stars.  They might have been the only two people in the world.  She was as bone-weary as after any battle, but it was a clean and empty feeling, as though she’d been drained down to the dregs and scrubbed out, ready for another use.

They stood there a long time, in silence, in the wind, until sleep finally called them back to their respective cots.

/\/\/\/\/\

The camp was thrumming by the time rosy sunlight touched the tops of the cliffs and spilled down into the lagoon.  Salarians and humans alike were suiting up, checking their gear and supplies, making ready for the battle to come.  Shepard finished briefing her squad on Shadow’s projected route through the facility and went to find Kirrahe.

He had a resigned, almost nihilistic look about him as he watched his men work, like a world-weary general of old.  All that was missing was the cigarette.  “Commander.”

“Captain.”  She glanced at the preparations, too keyed-up to be tired.  “Are you set?”

“As much as we can be.  It’s going to be a long day.”

“This is an endurance test.  Give ground wisely, stay in the bottlenecks, and we’ll get to that bomb site as fast as we can.”

He offered his hand.  “Good hunting, Shepard.”

“I’ll see you on the other side.”  She gripped his hand a moment, and turned to go.

“One last thing,” Kirrahe called after her.  The words came abruptly, as if he was debating the wisdom of mentioning it.  “I told you we were taking casualties, but I haven’t said anything about the missing men.”

That got her attention.  She paused.  “Missing?”

“A few scouting parties never returned to camp.  Biometric sensors in their suits continue to send out data- unintelligible, but detectable.  I assume their comms have been disabled.”

“Why haven’t you mentioned this before?”

“As hard as it is to say, rescue cannot be the focus of this mission.”  His nostrils flared.  “But if you should happen to discover what became of them-“

“I understand.”  She nodded.  Most of her thought that trickle of data was a trap, a tempting bit of bait, but she wouldn’t have been able to ignore it, either.  “I’ll do what I can.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

Shepard walked over to the squad of _Normandy_ marines ordered to stay behind with the salarians.  They gathered by the Mako.  Both Williams and Alenko were already there.

The chief turned and greeted her.  “Ma’am.”

“Is the plan firm?”  When last Shepard left it, the details remained more vague notions than concrete objectives.

“We’re leaving the tank,” Alenko said.  “Shadow Team can’t take it into the facility, and it’s the only real piece of artillery we have.”

Williams added, “After talking to Kirrahe, we decided to let us marines float between the salarian teams, fortifying whichever needs it.  The Mako gives us ground mobility they won’t have.”

“Good idea.”  Shepard looked over them all, noting that Alenko unsurprisingly elected to leave their field medic, Khaledi, with the frontal assault.  “Whatever happens, just keep shooting.  Go in hard, hit them hard, and we’ll be the only damn thing that comes out the other side.”

That met with a titter of laughter and a few cheers.  Williams grinned, but it was short-lived.  She glanced from Shepard to Alenko.  The uncertainty was quite unlike her.  “I guess this is it.  Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

In the distance, Shepard heard Kirrahe begin to exhort his men.  It sounded like a stirring speech, not quite her style, but there was no accounting for taste.  “What is this, Ash?  Yesterday you were dying for this mission.”

“Yeah, I know, I just… Good luck.”

Alenko folded his arms.  “Keep your chin up.  We’ll see you after this is over.”

She inhaled and nodded, that Williams stiff upper lip coming to the fore. 

“We’re a team.”  Shepard expanded her gaze to include the entire squad.  Her doubts of the previous evening, if not eradicated, had no place here and she would not give them a millimeter of foothold.  “We got into this together.  We’re coming out of this together.  All of us.  Today, we get justice for Eden Prime.”

Some nodded.  Some saluted.  There was a gravity hanging in the air they all could sense.  One way or another, it was going to be one of those days remembered as long as any of them who were there continued to live.  Maybe longer.

Over by Kirrahe’s command tent, he shouted something about holding the line.  There was a final, uproarious cheer, and shortly thereafter a runner came to the Mako.  The salarian’s black eyes were bright.  “It’s time.”

Shepard gave Ash a final, lingering look.  “I meant it, Chief.  No heroics.  Your family taught you tradition and they taught you well, but life is more important than legacy.  Always.”

“Easy for you to say,” she retorted, with more of the familiar, contrary gunnery chief.  “Your family never had anything to prove.”

She rolled her eyes.  “You _are_ their legacy, Ash.  I never met your father, or your grandfather, but I daresay they’d think it’s a proud one.”

Williams went red.  She swallowed, and after a moment, drew herself up and offered a silent salute.

Shepard returned it, solemnly, and looked at Alenko.  “Move out.”

As they departed, he glanced over his shoulder.  “Everyone’s heard Williams go on about her father, but who’s her grandfather?”

“General Williams from Shanxi.”  Shepard drew her rifle as they reached the rest of their team.

“Seriously?  Wow.  I bet she has some interesting stories.”

“You can ask her about it when this is over.”  She nodded to the rest of the team.  “As soon as we get the signal-“

At that moment, Kirrahe’s men split into three groups and surged into the cliff warrens.  Her comm activated.  “Testing.  Do you read, Commander?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good.  We’ve started our push.  We’ll try to penetrate as far as we can, but it’s up to you to finish the job.”

“Roger that.”  Shepard took a breath.  “That’s our cue.  Let’s get this thing done.”

Shadow Team snuck in behind Jaeto Team and separated at the first intersection, working their way around to the back of the facility.  Orders and reports flashed across the comm from the salarian offensive.  Aegohr made enemy contact within the first few minutes, and Kirrahe ordered Williams and the _Normandy_ squad to their aid, the first of many such maneuvers.  Geth flocked to the chaos at the main gates- exactly as they planned.  Now the only question was how long the defenders could hold, and how long Shepard would require that of them.

Shadow Team was in strict radio silence.  Shepard took point alongside Wrex, who was so eager for the fight it made her nervous.  Alenko, Garrus, and Tali fanned out behind them, with Liara bringing up the rear.  As they made their way to the facility, they encountered pocket resistance, quelled swiftly, lest the geth send out a full alert.  She hoped there was sufficient confusion on the front to mask Shadow’s movements. 

As they stepped over the bullet-riddled metallic remains of the most recent patrol, Alenko remarked, “Sun, surf, sand, and geth.  I bet they don’t put that in the brochure.”

The elaborate sarcasm was a defense against worry.  She suspected his mind remained on the marine squad behind them.  Wrex, however, only looked forward.  “Saren will pay for what he’s done to my people.”

Liara shuddered.  “I know there’s nobody I’d want less as an enemy than an angry krogan.”

That, Wrex liked.  He smiled.

Tali managed to wipe it away.  “Of course, this wouldn’t be a problem if krogan managed to educate their own scientists instead of constantly contracting others.  Or are you not suing half the biotech firms in extra-council space for failure to concoct a cure?”

He snorted.  “That’s not the point.”

“Sounded on point to me,” Garrus said.

“Stay focused,” Shepard admonished, but it was chiding at best.  So far, this was a walk in the park. 

Another comm report caught her attention.  Kirrahe’s voice was tight, but calm.  “Mannovai is under coordinated crossfire.  Check for long-range turrets assisting the geth target.”

“Shepard.”  Alenko nodded ahead.  “I think we’re there.”

Staring at them was the first solid building they’d seen since leaving the third barricade the previous day.  Like the gatehouse, it was built of pitted steel set into the cliffs, though this one was elevated on concrete pilings sunk deep into the unstable sand.  The gentle arc of a massive radar sensing array revolved slowly on the roof, just above the cliffs.  Even higher, a spindly tower stretched towards the sky.

An automated cannon mounted near the top fired at regular intervals.

“Want to bet that’s the long-range turret?” Shepard asked.

Tali scrutinized it.  “The control box will be below the instrument.  Disabling it should be trivial.”

The commander rolled her shoulder.  “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

The tower was moderately defended.  It took the better part of twenty patient minutes to clear it.  Once they did, Tali deactivated the console, and a couple of shots into the power source made certain it would stay that way.  There was a surprising lack of krogan adversaries; surely, here, at Saren’s lab, his krogan forces would be most numerous. 

They continued deeper into the complex.  Another thirty paces in, and they heard Williams over the radio.  “Something scrambled their targeting.  Mannovai pressing forward.”

Buildings became more numerous, interrupting the natural scenery of the lagoon with their blocky and utilitarian forms.  There was little wildlife; apparently the geth machines made birds and crabs as nervous as people.  Puffy clouds condensed as dawn moved on to morning.  In this sort of climate, late afternoon rain was a recurring event.  With luck, they should be away from Virmire before the next deluge.

Shepard paused to consult the aerial images from the _Normandy_ and STG recon.  “This should be the main path in.  There’s a series of recharging stations on platforms ringing the back of the facility.  Once we get passed those, we can gain access to the lab through a warehouse. From there, the AA guns should be-”

Kirrahe interrupted her orders.  “Target is calling for sat strikes.  Jaeto, watch for comm stations.  Williams, can you see anything?”

A pause, and a crackle of static corrupting Ash’s message.  “Negative, Mannovai is not a target.  Corporal Greico, take the Mako and shore up Jaeto.”

Liara pulled ahead.  “I see the ramp up to the loading docks.”

“Central comm station should be up ahead.”  Garrus began to move.  “We could take it out along the way.”

Tali was dubious.  “Won’t that tell the geth exactly where we are?”

“With luck, they’ll think it’s one of the other teams,” he reasoned, despite the fact that the other teams were nowhere near this location.

Alenko, who had continued to listen to the exchange between the assault squads over the comm, lowered his hand from his ear.  “Those guys are getting hammered.  Anything we can do to disrupt geth coordination will let more of them make it home.”

Shepard agreed.  “We’ll make the stop.  The geth have been after us for months.  We’re still here.  If it calls them down on our heads, we’ll deal with it.”

One shattered satellite dish later, and they were en route to Saren’s back door.  Resistance was heavier this close to the lab.  Their progress slowed to a crawl.  Meanwhile, the strained voices of their colleagues continued inexorably over the comm link.  Mannovai was increasingly isolated from the rest.  Originally assigned the position furthest from the salarian camp, they also managed to penetrate closest to the labs.  It made for an excellent distraction but Shepard was concerned they’d be unable to withdraw.

Apparently, Kirrahe shared her doubts.  “Williams, ease off the pressure.  Make them come to you.”

“Roger that, sir.  Mannovai retre- belay that.  Incoming drones!”  There was a burst of gunfire.  Orders came rapid fire as Mannovai desperately fought off the attack.  Ash yelled into the comm.  “Drones outbound to perimeter stations.  Bunker down before they come back!”

“Move it!” Shepard said, surging forward at a run.  If they could hit those platforms before the geth aircraft departed, they’d remove a major threat to the frontlines. 

Their boots slapped against the elevated metal walkway as they accelerated towards the recharge station.  They were completely exposed- nothing to duck behind, nowhere to hide from the cold tactics of the geth.  When they came upon the drone turrets, a dozen of them clustered together like birds, they simply opened fire and hoped to bring them down before they had a chance to react.

Seven turrets fell in the first wave.  Of the remaining five, two were destroyed before the squad’s shields gave out, exploding in a hail of shrapnel and dissipating mass effect fields.  Drones weren’t the smartest of the geth.  Imbued with the bare minimum of protocols to perform their function, they were unable to rapidly adapt.  Their limitations didn’t stop one from landing a solid shot in Garrus’ shoulder.

As soon as the last one clunked down on the platform, he dropped his gun and clutched at the wound, muttering turian curses.  Liara pried it away to take a look.  “It seems to have missed the joint, thank the goddess.”

She smeared medi-gel. 

“Small gifts.”  His mandible grated against his face.  “Still hurts like hell.”

“We can’t go back,” Shepard said.  “Can you continue?”

He nodded, curtly.  “As long as you don’t want me to climb walls, or move any heavy objects.”

“I think we can avoid that.”  Shepard jerked her head towards the facility.  “Warehouse is just ahead.”

They hurried to the door.  Along the way, they at last encountered a handful of krogan, caught unawares and quickly defeated, but far fewer geth than before.  Kirrahe’s assault was getting serious results. 

The warehouse was locked.  Alenko approached the control console to evaluate.  “I can cut the alarms.  This terminal gives full access to base security.”

Garrus’ breathing was labored, harsh in his throat.  “What about other alarms?  Could we send them to the far side of the facility?”

“You mean towards Kirrahe’s squads?”  Alenko blinked.  “Sure, I suppose.”

Wrex sauntered over.  “We should do it.  Clear our path, get to the bomb site fast.”

Tali shook her head.  “They could overwhelm the other teams.  We can’t risk it.”

“I agree,” Alenko said, with feeling. 

Shepard didn’t have time for debate.  “Just disable the alarms.  We’ll handle any guards inside.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”  Alenko entered a few commands.

The door blinked green.  She stepped forward and tagged it. 

The warehouse seemed abandoned.  They crept forward, maintaining silence and caution, Garrus favoring his good arm as he gripped his weapon.  They were prepared for geth, or krogan, or even Saren himself.  They were prepared for automated defense or additional alarms.  Nobody anticipated what charged them from behind a crate.

It was a trio of salarians, dressed in the unornamented but high-quality armor typical of STG, and holding their rifles like they knew how to use them.  The moment the patrol spotted Shadow Team, they opened fire. 

Shepard’s squad scattered, diving for any cover they could find.  The salarians had excellent aim.  They were forced to act defensively, popping out for no more than two clear shots before their shields went down.  Still, the odds were two against one, and the outcome inevitable.  It was all over within a few minutes.

Shepard turned one of the dead commandos over by the prodding of her boot, and squatted beside the corpse, resigned.  “He’s definitely one of Kirrahe’s.”

“Can’t be,” Garrus said.  “Why would prisoners defend Saren?”

“Indoctrination.”  Liara was grim.  “This is a nightmare.”

“Yep.”  Shepard felt more disappointed than horrified.  The tools at Saren’s command were formidable, terrible, but no longer novel.  “Either these salarians were particularly easy to break, or Saren’s learning how to speed up the process.  They weren’t here very long.”

Alenko frowned.  “Either way, I don’t like the implications.”

“Can we stop wasting time?”  Wrex was almost growling, he was so impatient.  “All these diversions are keeping me from breaking Saren’s neck.”

“They’re also possibly saving some lives on the front,” Alenko replied, with a nasty undercurrent warning Wrex off this particular complaint. 

The krogan straightened to his full height and leaned towards the lieutenant.  “ _That_ has nothing to do _this_ mission.”

“Neither does anything that happened to your people fourteen hundred years ago.”

Wrex growled.  Alenko glared.  Shepard’s voice rose over them both.  “Lock it down.  He’s right.  We need to keep moving.  Speed saves lives, too.”

“Damn straight.”  Wrex grinned.

“Enough,” she snapped.  “I get it.  Destroying a potential solution for the death of your civilization sucks.  You want someone to pay.  You’re going to have to wait for however long I say it takes.”

They locked eyes for a long moment.  Shepard won.  Wrex glanced away, grinding his teeth.  “Let’s go.”

He stomped off, heading deeper into the labs.  She looked at her squad, shrugged, and followed.  It was at least the correct direction.  With stress running this high, she’d take what she could get.

They moved into a small control room crowded with data terminals and screens.  Vital signs stared out at them from every holographic display, though the nomenclature was impossible to follow.  There were no names- only specimen numbers.  No way to identify the subjects under monitor.  Technician notes suggested their mental state was closely watched, and deteriorating.

Liara looked as if she might vomit.  “Is this lab where indoctrination was born?  Why?”

Shepard ran her hand over her hair.  “The primary purpose of this base is to generate a krogan army.  Krogan aren’t known for their discipline.”

Alenko raised his eyebrows.  “You think this whole thing could be about controlling krogan?”

“Why not?  Why should Saren respect krogan any more than he respects humans, or anyone else?”  Shepard shrugged.  “Not that indoctrination doesn’t have other applications.”

“This is disgusting,” Tali said flatly.

“I know.”  Shepard turned away from the monitors. 

The control room led to a second-story gantry overlooking a containment facility.  At least five cells were visible, large sheets of dirty glass imbedded between concrete beams.  There were no guards, nor amenities; the only technology in the room appeared to be the electronic locks affixed to each hatch.  As Shepard watched, growing more confused by the second, a salarian prisoner wandered into view within the leftmost cell.  He still wore his armor.

He craned his neck but evidently couldn’t make out the visitors on the walkway.  “Hello?  Is someone out there?”

His large, dark eyes blinked evenly at the glass.  He seemed no more perturbed than a shopkeeper wondering if a customer had come through the door.

“There’s not a mark on him,” Garrus breathed.  “Or the ones behind us.  How is Saren doing this?”

“I don’t want to know,” Shepard said, and she realized as the words left her mouth that they were true.  She was bereft of curiosity.  “I’m glad we’re leveling this place.”

Alenko folded his arms, staring down at the prisoner, utterly revolted.  “We need to wipe this whole base out.”

She scanned the gantry quickly, but saw no way down to the prison.  They proceeded to the next room.

The facility was a warren of laboratory space, prison cells, and data processing centers.  They encountered little resistance as they continued, mostly non-humans in white medical tunics caught by surprise as they took measurements.  Eventually, they located a stairwell and descended to the first floor.  Shepard started to backtrack.  She wanted to find the salarian prisoners, mindful of her promise to Kirrahe to do what she could for them.

The search didn’t take long.  As the squad arrived in the room, she saw that most of the cells were singly occupied, despite their large floor area.  She approached the fist cell.  “Hey.”

The salarian revolved slowly on the spot, its mouth working open and shut.  “Ar-rah-rah-ar.”

“Hello?”  She rapped on the glass.  There was no response.

However, a prisoner further along overheard her voice.  “Hello!  Hello!  Please don’t hurt me!”

Shepard hurried over.  The man pressed against the glass.  “What do you want?!  I told you everything!  I- I-“

“Calm down,” she said.  He was terrified, though he seemed in perfect health.  Not exactly the composure she’d expect from an elite STG commando.  Her neck prickled.  “I’m here to help you.”

He peered at her.  “Who are you?  Alliance?  I knew someone would come.  It tried to break me, but it couldn’t!  I shut it out!”

“He’s crazy,” Wrex rumbled. 

“Shut what out?” Shepard asked.

“ _It_ ,” he hissed, and few could hiss like a salarian.  “The _voice_.”

_His teeth are at my ear- fingers on my spine._ Shepard couldn’t repress the shiver that shuddered through her.  This place was getting under her skin.  She hated it.  Her next question shoved away at the discomfort as much as it dug up information.  “Tell me your name and rank.”

The salarian straightened.  “Private Menos Avot of the Third Infiltration Regiment STG, ma’am.  Captured while on reconnaissance right after the crash.  Glad to answer, ma’am.”  He shuddered as well.  “Never any questions from these bastards.  Just whispers and poking and cutting.  I’d have said anything to get out and get some payback.”

“Cutting?”  She examined him more closely.  She still couldn’t see any wounds.  Maybe they were beneath his armor.  “What did they do to you, soldier?”

“Experiments.”  The words tripped quickly off his tongue, vibrating in the air.  “I don’t know what for.  Who could?  I need out.  It’s not too much to ask, is it?”

Alenko licked his lips.  “Something’s not right here, Commander.”

“What?”  Liara was startled.  “He’s clearly been tortured in some way.  Maybe like what they did to my- like what they’ve done before.  He needs medical attention.  He needs our help.”

Garrus looked between Liara and the prisoner.  “He’s a threat.  I shouldn’t have to explain why to you of all people.”

Shepard drifted another step towards the cell.  “Setting him free could endanger the mission.  Even if he’s not indoctrinated, we can’t babysit.”

Tali touched her shoulder.  “You can’t just leave him here to die.”

At least Tali had the common sense not to mention the bomb in front of a probable enemy agent.  However, before Shepard could answer, the salarian interjected with increasing volume.  “No!  No, I need to get out.  This room is too small and it keeps talking and I really want to get out of here and get some work done.”

Shepard glanced into the spacious, silent cell with disbelief.  There was little sanity in the private’s wide black eyes.  _This is a bad idea, Nathaly.  Maybe the worst you’ve had in some time, and that is saying something._

But she took a breath and reached for the control pad.  “I can’t take you with me.  You need to make a run for it.  Kirrahe will be glad to see you.”

“I am quite good at following orders.  You’ll see.”  His eyes glittered strangely.  “I don’t know why they are repeated when they are so simple.”

He stepped out of the cell and looked around, appraisingly.

“So damn simple,” he whispered.  And then he joined his hands, raised his fists like a club, and brought them down squarely on Garrus’ injured shoulder.

The turian yelled and stumbled back.  Fortunately, Shepard was on her guard.  Armor or no, his head was unprotected, and brains didn’t mix with bullets.  The salarian died before he could do any further damage.

“Damn it!”  Garrus clutched his wound, once more bleeding freely.  “I told you!”

“Had to take the chance, even if it was a slim one.”  She glanced at the remaining cells, unrepentant.  “The rest can stay here.  I don’t think there’s any sense left in them, anyway.”

Garrus muttered.  She chose to ignore it.  “I doubt they’ll miss us.”

As if to emphasize her point, one of the prisoners began to slowly beat his forehead against the cell glass with a rhythmic, pulpy sound.  There was nobody left at home at all.

Vaguely discomfited, Liara filled the silence.  “I believe there’s another hallway back the way we came.  We have yet to locate the core of the lab.”

Shepard couldn’t say what she expected of the central laboratory, exactly, but it wasn’t a long room lined with circular pads enclosed by containment fields.  And she sure as hell didn’t anticipate the immobilized husks standing at the center of each prison.  Their vacant eyes stared out at nothing.  Lines of electric blue shimmered over their blackened skin, and mouths hung slack and empty.

Wrex, however, was fixated on something else.  “There’s krogan here.  I can smell them.”

Tali tilted her head, doubtful.  “Krogan don’t hide well.”

“This place is a tomb,” Shepard said.  She walked along the long axis of the room.  Her desire to approach the husks after the experience aboard the _Cornucopia_ was less than nonexistent.  “You don’t get life from death.  Maybe this cure is just a pile of shit.”

“No.”  If anything, that seemed to frustrate Wrex more than any abuse of the krogan at Saren’s hands.  “It’s here.  It has to be here.”

He seemed so desperate for confirmation that a cure _could_ exist that he didn’t care if it came at this sort of cost.  Shepard took a breath.  “We need to proceed to the AA guns, and then to the bomb site.  We’re nearly there.”

“We have time-“

Alenko cut him off.  “Oh, now we have time?”

Kirrahe’s irritated voice filled the comm.  “Mannovai, for the last time, _pull back_.  They’re luring you inside the facility perimeter.”

“Negative.”  Williams’ voice was slurred with static.  “This isn’t a ruse.  Something’s changed.  Shadow might be in trouble.”

The squad exchanged uncertain glances.  Shepard was harsh.  “We have to clear the way for the ship, and we have to set up the explosive, and evidently there may be geth en route to our position.  We are officially out of time here.”

There was no reply.  Wrex’s glare bordered on insolent.  She nodded.  “Alright-“

A hatch slid open.  In walked a krogan, swathed in what may have been the largest lab tunic ever sewn, an asari at his side.  She gestured towards her datapad.  They seemed locked in debate, oblivious to their surroundings.

Nobody knew how to respond.  Shepard watched them travel to a terminal, their backs still to the squad, and pull up a dataset.  Her lips quirked.  It was almost funny.  Actually, in that moment, to her, it was extremely funny, but it seemed inappropriate. 

“Hello there,” she called, loudly.

The pair spun around.  The asari’s mouth was perfectly round with shock, and the krogan was reaching for a shotgun that didn’t exist.

Shepard raised her rifle.  “Stay as you are.  No sudden moves.”

The asari wasn’t good at following directions.  She swat the krogan on the shoulder and screeched.  “I told you the alarms weren’t part of a system test!”

“Shut up.”  He scanned Shadow Team, lingering on Wrex. 

“They’re going to shoot us!”

“I said shut up.”  His eyes were quite cold.  “What is going on here?  Where are the guards?  Where is Saren?”

“They’re preoccupied,” Wrex rumbled.  “Who the hell are you?”

The krogan in lab garb shut his mouth and scowled.  The asari sighed and put her hands in the air.  “I’m Rana Thanoptis.  This is Dr. Droyas.  Please don’t shoot us.”

Droyas shifted his gaze to Rana.  “I told Saren you were a useless sack of air.”

“Let her talk.”  Shepard retained her amusement. 

“This is the glorious salvation of my species, the pinnacle of my life’s work.  I won’t allow some blue-assed bitch-“

Wrex’s humorless smile promised trouble.  “We’ll deal with you later.”

Liara interrupted, tense and urgent.  “What happened here? Why are you studying husks instead of krogan?”

For a moment, Rana hesitated.  Then she folded her arms and muttered under her breath.  “Screw it.  This job is not worth dying over.  I just want to get out of here before it’s too late.”

Alenko furrowed his brow.  “Too late?”

“You think indoctrination only affects prisoners?  Or humans?”  She shuddered.  “I _like_ my brain under my own control, thank you _very_ much.”

Shepard noticed her eyes were sunken and ringed with deep purple, like she hadn’t slept in days.  There was a small scar on her mouth where her teeth chewed at her lip.  A nervous one, then.  “I thought this place was developing a genophage cure.”

“Not exactly… and not this level.  Here, we’re examining _Sovereign’s_ effect on organic minds.  But Saren kept us in the dark as much as possible.  I can’t speak to the program’s purpose.”

Alenko blinked.  “You helped him and you don’t even know _why_?”

“It didn’t matter.”  She grew agitated, and began to pace.  “I didn’t have the option of negotiating, ok?  This position is a little more… permanent than I’d imagined.  I was just looking for some cash while I searched for a decent post-doc.”

Liara pursed her lips.  “It’s not so shocking.  Until several months ago, remember that Saren was a respected member of the galactic community.”

Garrus glanced at Shepard.  “We can’t leave them here.”

Tali shrugged.  “What do you suggest?”

“That bomb is going to clear out everything from here to the lagoons.”

“Bomb?!”  Rana’s eyes widened.  “I have to get out of here.  I can help you.  Saren’s lab, with all his private files?  I have access.  I’ll open the door right now.”

She activated her omni-tool and entered a command.  “It’s just through that door, across the balcony, and up the elevator.”

Droyas, smoldering until that instant, suddenly lunged at her with a snarl of contempt.  Rana yelped and darted out of the way.  Wrex let off a shotgun blast that knocked the doctor on his back. 

As Wrex advanced on the prone krogan, Rana put Shadow Team between her and Droyas, clearly fearing their indifference less than his wrath.  “Keep him off me!”

“Don’t worry.”  Wrex planted his boot on his chest.  “I’ve got my own questions, and I intend to get some answers.”

Droyas spat.  Wrex grinned.

Tali turned to Rana.  “How does indoctrination work?  You’re sure it comes from _Sovereign_?”

“Yes.”  She twisted her hands.  “It emits some kind of signal or energy field.  Undetectable, but the effects are obvious. Get close enough and you can feel a tingle at the back of the skull.  Direct, prolonged exposure leaves you a mindless slave.  But there’s… collateral damage.”

Rana’s eyes unfocused.  The words came slowly.  “It’s a whisper you can’t quite hear.  You’re compelled to do things but you don’t know why- you just obey.  Eventually, you stop thinking for yourself.  Nobody escapes.  My first test subject was the man I replaced.”  She swallowed and looked up, desperate.  “I just want to go home.”

“I don’t understand,” said Alenko.  “Isn’t Saren creating the signal?  Why does he need to study it?”

She shook her head.  “The signal makes us obey Saren, but I don’t think he controls it.  Lately, he’s… he’s seemed afraid, like he’s wondering if it’s affecting him, too.  It can be subtle.  For higher-functioning subjects, usually by the time they notice what’s happening, it’s far too late.”

Garrus had his finger pressed to his ear, listening to the comm.  “Things are starting to fall apart at the other side of the base.  Kirrahe’s men are losing ground.   We need to move fast or there won’t be much left of the other teams.”

“Right.”  Shepard addressed Rana crisply.  “I’m getting ready to blow this place to hell and gone.  If you want to make it out alive, you better start running.”

“Shit!”  She took off towards the elevator.  “Shit, shit, shit!”

They watched her stumble away, tripping over her own feet in her haste.  Shepard wore a tiny smile. 

Alenko evaluated her dryly.  “You enjoyed that.”

“She was a prig,” Tali protested.  Shepard’s grin widened slightly.

Alenko shook his head and looked away, but not before she saw a small smile of his own.

“Alright,” she said.  “We make for this ‘private lab’.”

Wrex gestured towards Dr. Droyas.  “Not until I get some intel from this pyjak.  Whatever else Saren was up to, his work could help my people.  I need to know what it was.”

Shepard was annoyed but had little time to argue.  “Fine.  Garrus, stay with him.  The rest of us will do a quick sweep of Saren’s laboratory to make sure we haven’t missed anything, and then we’ll regroup and make for the AA guns.  That should give you about fifteen minutes for questions.”

He nodded, curtly.  “I can work with that.”

The lab was unguarded, which Shepard found a bit strange.  Maybe Saren didn’t want the geth accessing his research.  Nor was the space particularly high-tech.  The hatch opened onto a perforated steel platform projecting out into the center of the two-story room, with a ramp of similar construction descending to either side.  Bare LED strip lighting dangled from the ceiling.  The illumination was scarcely enough to make out the basic features.  And at the far end, obscured by the platform, something emitted a dull green glow.

Tali spied a terminal and activated it.  “This looks like a facility map.”

Alenko hurried over.  “Can you identify the AA guns?”

“I think so.  Give me a minute.”  Her hands flew over the controls.

Shepard continued towards the green light.  There was something familiar about it, a sensation like a half-remembered dream.  It drew her forward. 

When she reached the edge of the platform and looked down, she paused and tried to speak with a tongue that was suddenly bone dry.  “There’s… he’s got another beacon here.  Like the one on Eden Prime.”

Her stomach sank.  If Saren had another beacon, one without the damage that caused the other to malfunction so severely, then he might have a complete vision.  One that told him where to find the Conduit.  Maybe that was why he and his ship were nowhere to be found.

Liara had the same thought.  “We must get that data.  It could be the key to everything.”

Shepard headed down the platform.  Alenko trailed after her, alarmed.  “Remember what the last one did to you?”

“I was fine then, and nothing’s going to happen to me now.”  Her gait was steady.  “Besides, we don’t have much choice.”

As she approached, holographic controls lit up at the proper height for use, inviting her attention.  That was promising.  The Eden Prime beacon simply latched on to any organic mind that came too near.  Unfortunately, none the controls made any sense.  She cursed her technological ineptitude.  “How do I use this thing?”

Liara stopped a prudent several paces back and called out instructions.  Shepard turned dials and pressed switches, growing frustrated as nothing appeared to provoke a reaction, and was caught off-guard when the beacon’s inscribed surface flared ice blue and the same elusive, pervasive force threaded tendrils through her body and lifted her feet from the floor.

She tensed in anticipation of the strangling pain, but it never arrived.  Every muscle was held taut, quivering, but not past the point of endurance.  Her head was thrown back.  A familiar vid played against the backside of her eyelids, seared into her brain.  Her lips parted with the tiniest of gasps as this beacon overwrote the old, smoothly filling in gaps and mending static, the once-chaotic assemblage of jagged images now rendered coherent.  Her eyes flew wide, almost pinned open, as it drilled the message into her being.

The beacon released her and she fell on all fours.

“Commander,” Alenko said, concerned, at the same time Liara cried, “Shepard!”  They each rushed forward to help her up.

“It was a warning,” she panted, realizing abruptly that she was soaked in sweat.  This beacon might have a gentler touch, one that wouldn’t leave her unconscious for fifteen hours, but she still felt like she’d run a marathon.  “The damn things are warnings about the reapers.  Talk about too little, too late.”

“Did you see the Conduit?” Liara’s voice was urgent.

Shepard shook her head once, no.  Liara buried her disappointment. 

Before she could say anything further, there was a strangled yell from the platform, and the sound of Tali’s shotgun activating.  Shepard glanced up.  An enormous red holograph now hung over their heads, though from this angle it was impossible to make out the image.  She hastened up the ramp, followed closely by the remainder of her squad.

They paused as they got to the top.  Alenko blinked.  “It’s… Saren’s ship?”

“ _Sovereign_ ,” Liara confirmed.

Shepard sighed, some of the tension easing out of her.  “Tali must have triggered one of his files, that’s all.”

Across the way Tali shook her head emphatically.  “It wasn’t me.”

Then the holograph began to speak.  “You are not Saren.”

The voice was overtly synthetic, flat, deep, and hollow as the void between galaxies.  It was a primal tone outside of time, an announced threat by its very existence, something instantly recognizable by every creature with enough neurons to express fear.  _Sovereign_ spoke from the dark heart of the unknown.

Alenko wondered aloud whether it was some kind of VI interface, an attempt to rationalize the inconceivable, though they all knew without a doubt that this was something else entirely. 

_Sovereign_ overheard, and expressed neither contempt, nor disappointment, nor even amusement.  Its perfect indifference made it all the more terrifying.  “Rudimentary creatures of blood and flesh.  You touch my mind, fumbling in ignorance, incapable of understanding.”

Shepard continued forward until she was nose to prow with the holograph, because that was the only acceptable response to dread, and because no productive ideas leapt to mind.  “What in the hell are you?”

“There is a realm of existence so far beyond your own you cannot even imagine it.  I am beyond your comprehension.”  The ship stared out at them, unmoving, unphased, utterly without reaction.  “I am Sovereign.”

_Saren doesn’t control indoctrination.  He’s worried it’s affecting him._ The facts clunked into place, one after another, doggedly, as she stared up at the hologram.  _It resides with the ship.  The ship we’ve assumed was something of the geth._

_The geth believe Saren will bring back their gods, the reapers.  What do we know about the reapers except that they’re some kind of ultimate machine?  What would look like the ultimate machine to another machine?_

_Geth never had a use for any organic before.  Why reason could they have to grant Saren prophet status?  What do prophets do?_

_They predict the future.  The good ones offer articles of faith._

The truth hit Shepard in an intuitive leap that carried all the force and weight of incontrovertible conviction.  She was less certain of her own name than she was of this.  “Sovereign isn’t a geth device.  It’s not some artifact Saren found out in the Veil.”

Tali was confused, edging back from the projection.  “What else could it possibly be?”

She took a deep breath.  “It’s a reaper.”


	47. For Nothing

_It’s a reaper.  Sovereign is a reaper._

Shepard’s declaration hung in the air.  Tali simply shook her head, overwhelmed.  Liara’s face displayed her horror, but she was nodding as well, as if it all suddenly made sense.  Alenko’s brow creased as he thought furiously.

Sovereign didn’t allow them time to absorb the revelation.  It was dismissive.  “Reaper?  A label created by the Protheans to give voice to their destruction.  In the end, what they chose to call us is irrelevant.  We simply are.”

It was a machine answer, literal and direct.  Shepard eyed it.  “And all the others, the ones before the Protheans?  What did they call you?”

“Irrelevant.”  The voice of Sovereign was crisp with logic, inexorable, lacking in all emotion.  “Organic life is nothing but a genetic mutation.  An accident of chemistry.  Your lives are measured in years and decades.  You wither and die.  We are eternal, the pinnacle of evolution and existence.  Before us, you are nothing.  Your extinction is inevitable.  We are the end of everything.”

“You don’t frighten me.”  Shepard said it on instinct, and was somewhat astonished to find it was true.  There was every reason to be afraid, yet in that moment she felt almost righteous.  Hearing Sovereign’s smug, callous indifference with the Prothean warning so close to the surface of her thoughts, knowing as few others could exactly what Sovereign intended when it spoke of extinction, caused injustice and fury to weld into a cold, hard, singular purpose in the pit of her stomach.  It had the intensity of religious fervor.

Her glare could have pierced an armored bulkhead.  “You can’t kill a machine, but I will destroy you.”

“Confidence born of ignorance.  They cycle cannot be broken.”  Sovereign’s legs flexed, insectile.  “The pattern has repeated more times than you can fathom.  Organic civilizations rise, evolve, advance, until at the apex of their glory, they are extinguished.”

Shepard recalled the lengthiness of the Prothean war, and graced Sovereign’s claims with tacit sarcasm. “I guess the Protheans really threw you off your game, building refuges like the Citadel.”

“The Protheans did not create the Citadel.  They did not forge the mass relays.  They merely found them, the legacy of my kind.”  Its reaction could not have been more impassive.  “We have ensured your civilization is based on our technology.  By using it, your society develops along the paths we desire. 

Shepard indulged a moment of quiet rage.  _They raised us up for slaughter.  That’s the whole point._

Alenko was as disgusted as he was confused.  “This is your purpose?  Why?”

“We impose order on the chaos of organic evolution.  You exist because we allow it.  And you will end because we demand it.”

He blinked.  “You’re… you’re harvesting us.  Letting us advance to the level you need, then wiping us out.”

“But why?” Liara persisted.  “What use do you make of us?”

Sovereign dismissed her curiosity altogether, growing tired of the conversation.  “My kind transcends your very understanding.  We are each a nation.  Independent, free of all weakness.  You cannot even grasp the nature of our existence.”

Shepard crossed her arms.  “Spare me your propaganda.”

“We have no beginning.  We have no end.  We are infinite.  Millions of years after your civilization has been eradicated and forgotten, we will endure.”  The image flickered.  “We are legion.  The time of our return is coming.  Our numbers will darken the sky of every world.  You cannot escape your doom.”

“So far all you’ve done is torch a colony or two, and talk.”  Intuition sparked.  If Sovereign believed what it said, why waste any time talking to them now?  “I think that if you’re leaning on an ‘organic weakling’ like Saren to accomplish your agenda and playing god to bunch of sycophantic robots, you’re not quite as omnipotent as you claim.  I think maybe this time something didn’t go according to plan.  How am I doing?”

“Your words are as empty as your future.  I am the vanguard of your destruction.  This exchange is over.”  The holograph winked out.

As it did, a bank of tinted windows running the across the front of the lab blew out with a crash of glass and a screaming of the wind.  As one, they ducked and covered their heads, razor shards raining down about their ears, tinkling off their suits and onto the floor. 

Alenko looked at her with something like satisfaction.  “That hit a nerve.”

Almost on cue, Joker opened a secure transmission.  “ _Normandy_ to ground.  Commander, a blip matching Sovereign’s signature just popped on the radar and pulled the kind of maneuver that would shear this ship in half.  They could’ve been hiding in the shadow of the planet.”  He paused for breath.  “They’re coming in hot over your heads.”

“Do not engage.”  She got to her feet, shaking off the debris and blinking in the sunlight now flooding the room.  _Damn it, it was stalling for time while it got into position._

“Not much chance of that until those guns go down.”

“Repeat, do not engage.  I don’t care what happens.”  She went to the window and peered out, hoping for a glimpse of the ship.  “Sovereign isn’t Saren’s flagship.  It’s his partner- or his boss.  An honest-to-god reaper.  We stay the hell away, and that’s an order.”

“A _reaper_?”  Joker’s voice went up the scale.  “Roger that, ma’am, trying to look as innocent as possible over here.”

Tali adjusted the communication terminal and shook her head.  “This console is shot.”

Alenko licked his lips.  “Orders, Commander?”

The decision came lightning quick, more instinct than thought.  _Stick to the plan until something better comes along._ “We make for the AA guns.  There’s nothing more for us here.”

They rendezvoused with Wrex and Garrus, leaving the detailed explanations for later.  Right now all that mattered was they were rapidly running out of time.  Mannovai was still chasing a cadre of geth towards their position.  Sovereign was taking the field.  There was neither sight nor sound of Saren.  Shepard hoped the salarian recon was good and he wasn’t aboard ship, and would be a viable target for their bomb.  Rana’s revelations about his growing unease would explain Saren insisting on some time apart from his ship.

“It’s going to be a fight to the guns,” Wrex rumbled, activating his shotgun mods.

She shot him a glance.  “Did you get what you needed?”

“No,” he said.  “But I got all there was.”

Droyas’ sightless eyes stared up at the ceiling.  Shepard ignored the corpse.  She couldn’t say she expected any other result.

They exited the lab.  An outdoor ramp hugged the side of the facility, corkscrewing around it, towards the main defenses.  Here, the building sat on a spur of land jutting out into the deep ocean water.  Waves dashed against jagged gray rock far below, sending up sprays that coated the metal grating and made it hard to walk quickly.  They shuffled along as best they could.  Like the rest of Virmire, the view was breathtaking- provided the viewer forgot the macabre purpose of the facility, and the ongoing battle.

It was getting on towards midday.  The clouds above darkened with the heavy rain to come, and the wind strengthened with them, causing the ramp to creak and sway.  Krogan defended the route.  Saren’s minions had the advantage on the narrow walkway, free of cover, but the bottleneck worked both ways and the krogan were unable to muster the numbers to overwhelm Shadow Team.  It was dirty fighting, but quick, and they escaped without injury.

Shepard fired a final shot into a downed opponent as they stepped onto a high platform overlooking the bay.  High above them, the antiaircraft guns turned slowly, sniffing at the sky.  The muzzle of each barrel measured twice her height.  The rounds would be the size of her leg.

Wrex sized up the guns.  “Those could punch some serious holes in _Normandy’s_ hide.”

Shepard pressed her fingers to her ear.  Sovereign already knew where they were, so the communications blackout was pointless.  “Kirrahe, Joker, this is Shadow.  We have eyes on the AA turret and it should be down momentarily.  Standby.”

Interference and the sounds of a serious fight rendered the captain’s reply almost unintelligible.  The situation at the front was deteriorating rapidly.  “Rog- at, -adow, waiting –r order.”

They approached the tower boldly, guns out, not bothering with cover.  Speed was what mattered now.  Three geth patrolled the control room.  The first went down before the others realized they were not alone.  Shepard nailed a second directly in its flashlight.  The bullet must have travelled inside the chassis into the processing core, because it fell back, wracked with spasms- a lucky hit.  The third ran for the terminal, of all things.  Shepard imagined they had some way of communicating wirelessly with the instrumentation, but maybe not; it looked like a standard Council-space model, and the two major buyers- humans and turians- distrusted wireless on their hardware.

The geth unit tried to lock out the controls and make them impossible for the infiltrators to access, but Tali and Wrex’s shotgun blasts took it out at the core, just before Alenko’s biotic throw knocked it away from the computer.  Garrus sank a final shot into the carapace. 

Tali hurried over the console.  “I think I can disable the artillery.  But this terminal is hardened.  We won’t be able to destroy it after I’m done.”

Alenko frowned.  “Anyone who came in behind us could reactivate the guns.”

“No choice,” Shepard said.  “Besides, planting the bomb shouldn’t take long.  We’ll be out of here before they think of it.  And then they’ll be slag.”

She didn’t disguise how much she was looking forward to it.  Liara regarded her with something like disapproval.  Shepard refused to feel guilt.  “Are we done?”

Tali nodded.  “We’re done.”

She glanced at Alenko.  “Where to?”

He popped open his omni-tool to inspect the purloined map.  “The elevator here should take us to the lower roof, and then a bit further, there’s a second that should lead down to the wastewater area.”

“Whose idea was it to set up in a pile of raw sewage, anyway?”

Alenko and Tali exchanged a glance.  Alenko stammered a bit.  “It’s not… it’s not that kind of wastewater, ma’am.”

Tali was more succinct.  “They use water to cool the generators.  The cooling ponds are at the center of the facility.  I wouldn’t drink it, but it’s not infused with biological waste.”

Her face heated.  “How was I supposed to know that?”

Garrus spun suddenly.  “The elevator.  It’s moving.”

As one, they raised their weapons.  The doors sprang open, and geth poured out. 

Two drone turrets accompanied four of the standard ground units.  With less than five meters between the team and the elevator, it wasn’t so much a fight as a hail of bullets smashing against kinetic shields and blinding them all with cascades of blue light.  Shepard ducked behind the terminal and kept firing long after she couldn’t see any of the targets clearly.  There were shouts and the ring of splintering metal and concrete. 

At last the electronic grinding of the geth ceased and the dust began to settle.  Shepard called over the confusion.  “Status report!  Is everyone alright?”

That was answered by a varying chorus of groans and yes ma’ams.  She sighed and rose.  “I guess there was no way we were making it through this with no surprises.  Let’s hope that was the only patrol between here and the bomb site.”

Tali shook off the attack and nodded towards the computer.  “I did what I could.  There’s no way to keep them out forever.  If a patrol returns, it will be vulnerable.”

“We’ll have to work fast, then.”  She nodded towards the elevator.  “We’re almost there.  Keep moving.”

They exited onto a level near the roof, covered an ankle’s depth of warm running water.  The rush and rumble of the processing equipment made it difficult to hear any other sound.  Overhead, clouds continued to gather, blocking out the sun and lending a pall to the air.  Thunder rumbled in the distance and lightning spiked at the ocean’s horizon.  The afternoon storm would be on them soon.

They splashed through the shallows towards the main retention area where they would plant the bomb.  As they walked, Shepard activated her comm.  “Shadow to _Normandy_.  Your path is clear.”

“Roger that, Shadow.”  Joker seemed elated.  “We are on the way.”

She switched channels.  “Kirrahe, prepare for extraction.”

Gunfire and shouts accompanied his response.  “Roger that, Shadow.  Jaeto!  Aeghor!  Retreat to the rendezvous point!  Mannovai, threat to Shadow has failed to materialize.  Get out of there!”

Williams sounded strained. “Doing our best, sir.”

Shepard terminated the transmission and glanced at Alenko.  “How many are with her?”

“Mannovai had six salarians,” he answered.  “Williams ordered our people to take the Mako and support the other squads, when Mannovai left the lagoon.”

“Why the hell-“

“Someone had to stay to relay comms to us and the other teams.”

There was little time to worry about it now.  They passed through a giant bay door onto a rooftop terrace containing another cooling pond and a number of small waterfalls cascading into the depths of the generators.  The holes around them felt quite deep; she could feel the rumble up through her boots.  There was a distinct current, especially near the large cooling tower set opposite the edge of the roof; water dropped down into it at an alarming rate.  It wasn’t quite enough to yank them from their feet, but Shepard gave the artificial hole a wide berth, just in case. 

A single geth patrol guarded the area, quickly repressed.  Then it was an impatient several minutes waiting for the ship to arrive.

Joker set _Normandy_ down with her nose facing the facility, as gently as settling an egg into a basket.  The forward hatch popped open, revealing the marine squad assigned to guard the bomb.  Between them sat the device itself.  It was made of scarred metal in colors of steel and rust, a sphere brooding within square metal girders rigged to allow it to be carried.  The whole contraption wasn’t much more than a meter across, reminding Shepard yet again of the outsized enormity of _Normandy’s_ drive core.  It was hard to believe that within that shell lay enough energy to send an entire spaceship soaring between the stars.

Alenko organized the crew.  At his direction, they carried it over near the cooling tower, the nearest thing the rooftop had to a defensible position and close to the facility proper.  It settled into the water.  He located the jury-rigged instrumentation panel and began to program instructions.

Shepard, impatient, watched over his shoulder.  “How long’s this going to take?”

“Ten minutes or so,” he answered, distracted.

She nodded and put a hand to her ear. “Shepard to _Normandy_.  Package is in place.  Extraction is authorized.”

Joker hesitated.  “Copy that, ma’am.  I just got done talking with Kirrahe.  Casualties at the front are overwhelming.  I don’t know that we can get them all out inside the window.”

Garrus looked over.  “Everything’s quiet up here.  Send the marine squad back to help.”

Shepard was already shaking her head.  “It’s paramount that this bomb go off without a hitch.  We can’t leave Saren a resource like this facility, we can’t allow his plans for a krogan army to go forward, and with some luck it might even get the bastard himself.”

“I know.”  Garrus’ mandibles tightened about his jaw.  “We’re here to guard it in case any patrols wander by.  The plan worked, Shepard.  We’ve got this.  Let the poor guys do some real work.”

He was right.  She knew he was right.  Logic did nothing to quell the warning in her gut.  Nerves, she supposed- it was a rare mission that ran this smoothly.  She turned towards the marines and snapped out orders.  “Get back to the ship and render any assistance required to the assault teams.”

They offered her a quick salute before scurrying to obey, grateful to be sent back to where the fight was thickest.  None of the crew lacked for dedication, or bravery.  She took some pride in that.  Maybe she was over-cautious in keeping them aboard ship.  They could have used the extra hands at the front during the fighting.  However, holding something back ensured a speedy evacuation now.  Those judgments were all post-mortem critiques.  As such, they could wait until debrief.

She filled the time while they waited impatiently scanning the comm and checking her omni-tool for updates.  “Any sign of Sovereign?”

Liara, who was copying her activities, shook her head.  “The ship did a fly-by of the labs while we were preoccupied with the antiaircraft guns, and then headed out over the sea.  I don’t understand.”

“Sovereign’s a gigantic ship.  It can’t assault this facility without bringing it down around our ears.”  The speculation felt right.  “Saren still needs it, therefore, Sovereign still needs it.”

“Maybe.” Liara seemed less certain.  “I doubt a reaper gives up so easily.”

Just then, Williams shouted a warning through the radio.  “Mannovai pinned down at the AA tower! We can’t reach the extraction point!”

Shepard went from relaxed to focused in less time than it took to blink.  “Can you get to Shadow’s position?”

“Negative, ma’am.  Way too hot.”  There was a long pause punctuated by an exchange of fire.  “They flanked us somehow, and the group we were chasing’s disappeared.”

Her stomach sank.  _Kirrahe was right.  It was a trap._ “Roger, Mannovai.  We can be at your position in five minutes.”

She assessed her team, trying to make a quick call on division of resources, when Alenko caught her eye.  “Go.  I’ll keep arming the explosive.  You get Williams and the salarians out.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line.  There was no way of knowing how many geth were out here, or their positions.  There was the risk that a patrol could gain control of the bomb- and she didn’t like the idea of leaving him by himself. 

Alenko was exasperated.  “There’s nothing here, and we’re talking about fifteen minutes, at the most.  You’ll never make it if you don’t take the full team.  Unless you have a better plan…”

She took in a breath, and blew out, seeing no alternative and wishing she’d kept the marines after all.  “Back to the elevator.  We clear out the geth and bring Mannovai back here for pick-up.”

On their way back to the tower, Shepard was mainly annoyed.  The geth were slowing them down, buying time for Sovereign to execute its plan- and she had no doubt it was a hasty one.  She rather thought the reaper hadn’t expected them to access Saren’s lab, much less guess its true nature. 

Surprising how quickly a situation could change.  When they arrived, she was all but salivating at the possibility of Saren’s demise.  Now he was a footnote on her agenda.  Destroy the puppets, and the puppeteer would simply acquire new ones.  But there were a lot of pieces that still didn’t make sense.  Sovereign made no attempt to disguise its motives for returning its brethren to the galaxy.  Why it would require the help of a device like the conduit wasn’t clear.  If it were a reaper fabrication, surely Sovereign would know the location- unless it was like the Mu Relay, pushed out of its proper place by extreme forces beyond any control. 

The elevator chimed and they spilled out onto the roof, moving towards the tower.  They were halfway to Mannovai’s location when there was an urgent call over the comm.  Alenko.  “Geth squad from the south.  Two- four- make that at least six units fanning out over the pond and headed towards the bomb.”

Liara paled. “That was Sovereign’s purpose.  It must have dropped more geth into the area when it realized the ones at the front couldn’t make it here in time to stop us.”

Shepard wagered she was right.  Alenko wasn’t panicked, not yet, but the urgency in his tone betrayed the gravity of the situation.  Her stomach clenched.  “Do they see you?”

“Negative.  They’re searching.”  He paused, drew a shaky breath.  “It won’t take them long.  They’re pouring out over the bomb site.”

Shepard moved off to the side, turning away from her team.  “Can you slip away?”

It was the wrong thing to say, and she knew it as soon as she said it.  She should be worried about defending the bomb.  She wasn’t.

“There’s no cover between here and the door.”  A scraping of plastic on metal, followed by electronic noise.  “I’m starting the detonation timer.” 

“The hell you are!”  They all were warned about the hardened timer.  Once the sequence began, nothing could stop it.

Gunfire erupted from the other end of the transmission.  Alenko cursed, his voice harsh.  “It’s done.  I’ll keep them from following you as long as I can.”

Williams interrupted the conversation.  “Fuck that.  Who knows what the geth can do with tech?  Go get the L.T. and protect that bomb!  We can handle ourselves.”

Alenko overrode her.  “Get Ash and get the hell out of there!”

Time froze.  Her mind raced with probabilities.  She didn’t believe the geth could stop the detonation, not in the time remaining, no matter how badly she wanted to believe it, to have an excuse to go back.  Mannovai Team consisted of six salarians plus Williams- seven lives, to Alenko’s one.  The _Normandy_ would have more trouble landing in the tight confines near the AA guns, but on the other hand, if Mannovai was overrun, she might not be able to land anywhere.  The geth wouldn’t leave the guns disabled.  The choice seemed clear.

But making that choice meant Kaidan would die.

_He knows that_ , reason answered, implacable.  _He knew that when he set the timer.  It was always a risk.  He accepts it._

Shepard stared out over the sea.  Her pulse slowed to a painful crawl. 

_Can you take seven lives to spare his?  Can you kill a marine under your command, who put her life in your hands?  Can you be that fucking selfish?_

But her heart remembered sitting on the Martian floodplains.  Screwing around with cleanup in the mess, both of them soaked to the skin and laughing.  Standing in the middle of a blizzard having the time of her life.  Late nights while the ship slept talking about everything and nothing.  Feeling warm from toes to nose when he smiled.

Could she been that _selfless_?

Garrus touched her arm.  “Shepard, what do you want us to do?”

She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, just half a second.  _He’s my one too many._

He shook her, urgently.  “Shepard?”

It was a matter of duty.  Shepard had never forsaken her duty; Kaidan of all people would not be proud if she did so now.  It was the right decision, to preserve the mission above all else.  Leaden fingers pressed against her ear.  “Sit tight, Mannovai.  Help’s coming.”

She cut the transmission.  Her gaze went to the turian.  “Garrus, you’re in charge.  Bring back our girl.”

He gaped at her the space of a heartbeat before he got it.  “How are you going to get outside the blast radius?”

“Still working on that part.”  She offered him a half-smile, tinged with a necessary sadness but unblemished by regret.

Garrus nodded.  “It’s been an honor.”

“Likewise.”  Shepard turned back towards the elevator as Garrus began to rally the team, most of whom still wore looks of confusion. 

Liara finally understood and lunged forward to snag her arm.  “You can’t!  You’ll die down there!”

“Probably.”  She was utterly unconcerned.

Liara was stricken.  “At least let me go with you.”

“No.  I’m not splitting the team, not again.  Everyone will wind up dead.”

“Shepard!”

She resumed walking, nothing of an invitation about her stance.  Liara trailed a few steps behind.  “Why?”

She glanced over her shoulder, and answered simply, because it was the truth.  “I can’t leave him behind.”

“But-“

“Go with Garrus.  Now.”

Liara wrapped her arms about herself tightly, trying to hold in a sob.  Her eyes were large and wet.  Shepard thought of apologizing, but she wasn’t sorry, and so she kept walking without looking back.

With every step, weight fell off her shoulders.  For once, the path before her stretched out with perfect clarity, no more gray, no more doubt.  She entered the waiting elevator and pressed the button.

The doors slid smoothly shut.  Shepard drew her rifle and checked it over with the ease of habit, as calm as if this were just another training exercise.  There was no fear.  Every anxiety had fled, replaced by an altogether alien sensation.  Shepard was at peace.  She didn’t want to die, but for the first time in many years, she felt like she was doing exactly what she should.  Her obligation was discharged; her team was safe, or soon would be.  No mere squad of geth would take them down.

She let them go from her thoughts as easily as sliding a fish back into the water.  Hands ran over the familiar lines of her gun as her lips murmured a loose plan.  “Get in, drive off the geth, grab Kaidan, find safety.”  Her mouth quirked.  “Easy.”

The elevator dinged.  Adrenaline spiked as her boots hit the water, flooding her veins with an excitement and eagerness she thought erased by the long weeks of this thankless mission.  The coming fight called to her.  Her smirk became a fierce smile.  She surged ahead, sending up fountains where her feet pounded at the shallow pool, reckless and possessed of the odd kind of careless joy that came from the exercise of well-honed skill.  Adrenaline-junkie, he’d called her, and she had not denied it.

As she ran for the cooling tower, there was no Akuze, there was no limping ship on the fringes of batarian space, and there was no misbegotten collection of mixed mistakes and heartbreaks.  There was only a blue-haired urchin running heedlessly after what she knew to be right.

Shepard skidded into the main retention area.  The geth turned as one unit to stare at her.  It was unknown if geth AI experienced shock, but in any case, these ones paused several seconds to assess the new situation- a small eternity in processing time.  She yelled an incoherent battle cry and let off a burst of fire before diving for cover.

Bullets churned up the water behind her.  She slammed into a pump and plastered her back to it.  Kaidan’s position was not obvious from where she crouched, but the geth divided their attention, half on her, half angling towards the bomb.  As one neared the explosive, its shield abruptly evaporated in an incandescent cascade of sparks.  A moment later a biotic throw tossed it back into its fellows.  The patrol staggered.

A satisfied grin touched her face.  Shepard leaned out from the pump and nailed the nearest geth.  A spray of milky fluid filled the air.  She slid back before the answering bullet hail could touch her.

Almost on cue, the sky rumbled and dropped a few fat dollops into the pond, the afternoon’s storms on their way.  Out over the sea it was already raining in a solid gray curtain that obscured the horizon.  Shepard could smell it coming off the water, mixed liberally with the pungent stench of stagnate cooling ponds and acrid machine oil.  It got like this sometimes; every detail standing out in stark clarity, the chemicals in her blood making each second last entire eons.  She thought of what to try next.

Splashes told her the geth were undeterred by her small victory and continued to close in.  Good.  Let them.

She popped back into view, firing before she had a target and taking aim without easing off the trigger.  A geth unit fell back.  However, at the rear, she saw another patrol of geth pouring from a bay door.  _Shit._

Her shields collapsed.  Shepard fell into cover, keeping an impatient eye on the recharge meter and reviewing her last glimpse of the battlefield.  There was no time to check Kaidan’s progress.  They’d be stronger if she could make her way to him. 

Something rattled against the pump, a bit of metal settling into place.  That was the instant she filtered out all the other noise and realized that the nearest cluster of geth had stilled.  Her legs were pumping before the facts lined up firmly in her brain, propelling her out into the open because it was suddenly less dangerous than staying hidden.  Her shield generator refreshed a half second before the detonation.

The percussive blast tossed Shepard a solid three meters.  Shrapnel pelted her suit.  She lost her footing and rolled to a stop face-first in the water.  Her regenerator wheezed, hot against her back, and the gun dangled from her fingertips.  Every inch of her was soaked.  She lifted her chin, ears ringing, keeping low to the ground in anticipation of an attack, and tried to knock sense back into her muzzy brain.  _Chakwas did warn you about the repercussions of head injuries…_

A geyser of filthy water spewed from the wreckage of the pump.  The artificial rain obscured the view between her and the geth.  Small favors.  She could make out Kaidan now, too, crouched against the cooling tower beside the bomb.  He divided his attention between conventional and biotic attacks, while keeping an eye on his omni-tool display.  From the tension in his stance, she guessed he was hard-pressed to keep up.

A line of geth gunfire tore into the water not far from her face.  Her hands clamped over her head until it subsided.  She shot to her feet.

She fired at random to deter them as she ran up alongside Kaidan, putting her back to the bomb, and out of sight of the geth.  Smoothly, she exchanged her rifle for a pistol and activated the modified explosive rounds.  His expression as he ducked back into cover and spared her a glance was almost insensible with anger.  “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” she yelled back, taking aim and planting three shots deep in a geth torso.  It folded up like a child’s toy, still beating at flames spewing from the hole in its chest. 

He took a deep breath.  “There’s still time.  You can get back to them.  I’ll cover you-“

“This is a lot more than six geth,” she noted, ignoring the suggestion entirely. 

Kaidan locked the nearest geth into a stasis field and threw her a wild, desperate look.  “Nathaly, please-”

“I told them to get Ash and get the hell out.”  At exactly that moment, the _Normandy_ streaked overhead, inbound to the AA tower and the location of the rest of the team.  They both knew that extraction would complete before either of them could fight free and retreat to Williams’ location.

He watched it with a kind of open horror.  Shepard grinned broadly, and could not swallow a cackle. That settled that argument.

Kaidan stared.  “I hate you.”

A geth-fired rocket pieced the air between them and nearly took off Shepard’s arm.  He swore and keyed another command into his omni-tool.  Shepard returned fire.  “There’s ten of them and two of us.”

“I’m jamming their auto-targeting.”  Sweat beaded his brow.  “I think the only thing keeping them from flanking us is concern that I’ll set off the bomb if they get too close.”

“Saren wants to keep this place running.”

“Looks that way.”  His biotic attack lifted two of the geth from the water and left them tumbling slowly in the air.  “This would be a great time for a brilliant plan.”

Her mind raced as she continued to take pot shots, on auto-pilot.  There wasn’t much of a terrain advantage.  The busted pump continued to gush.  The vortex sinking into the depths of the cooling tower below their feet tugged at her ankles with a deceptive insistence.  The far end, near the edge of the building, was guarded by a small waterfall no more than a meter high, and between them and it lay only the sparsest of cover. 

She flicked the wet hair out of her eyes.  _Think, damn it.  You have all the tools you need.  Just fucking find them._

Her gaze latched onto the waterfall.  Then she glanced down at current below.  _It’s a circulation loop._ Hot, spent water came up from the depths of the facility at the far end of this pond, thinned out over the roof to drop back down to a useful temperature, and then descended into the tower apparatus where it cooled the power generators. 

There was a control panel affixed to the side of the tower.  Shepard lunged for it and yanked open the lid.  “Cover me!”

He didn’t question the order or even glance back at her.  He simply redoubled his efforts to hold off the geth.  She accessed the maintenance procedures and scanned the list.

For a long, sinking moment she thought there was no such function, or that she lacked the expertise to identify it.  Then, three menus deep, she found it- system flush.  Shepard gripped a pipe, hauling herself clear of the pond, and shouted over the fight.  “Brace yourself!”

Kaidan hooked an arm through the steel lattice enclosing the bomb.  She hit the button, and then the override, duly ignoring the manufacturer’s warning that draining the system while in operation could lead to massive and irreparable damage. 

The floodgates opened.

The cooling tower shook so hard Shepard was nearly thrown loose.  The trickle became a maelstrom.  The bomb, so heavy it took four men to lift it, slid towards the waiting maw like a bathtub toy.  Kaidan scrambled desperately as it threatened to crush his body between the structures, and just managed to clear all his limbs an instant before they collided.

The rushing sound of the purge drowned out all other noise.  She pulled herself up a bit higher.  Stabilized, she looked up, hopeful, holding her breath. 

The pull of the water descending at both ends of the pond knocked the geth from their feet and left them floundering.  As she watched, three fell towards the waterfall and promptly vanished.  Her mouth stretched into a grin and she let out a whoop.

Gradually, the field cleared.  Nearly all the water was gone, along with most of the geth.  However, the tide worked both ways, and a pair of the machines carried towards them caught up against the tower, and began to regain control of their senses as the torrent subsided.  Kaidan was similarly disoriented.  He rode out the flood by clinging fiercely to the bomb as it shuddered and rattled. 

Shepard jumped down and offered a hand, pulling him to his feet, trying to recover before the geth.  The comm lit up- Williams.  “Three more at two o’clock!”

Garrus, irritated.  “Williams, get your ass back to the ship, now!”

“Not until the salarians are on board!”  There was a burst of rifle fire.

“It wasn’t a request!” His mandibles grated against his jaw as he spoke, a sign of anger, increasing the vocal flanging.

Williams panted into the comm.  “I don’t take orders from you.”

Kaidan raised his pistol and drew her back to their situation.  “They’re flanking us!”

“Stay with the bomb.”  Shepard darted around the tower before he could raise an objection.  Her first explosive round caught a geth in the back, but it seemed to merely irritate it.  The machine swept out a long arm and nearly knocked the gun from her hands.

_Damn, they’re strong._   She drew her rifle, and kicked at the nearest while firing on the one further back.    Alenko joined her, shooting from behind the bomb, avoiding the target in her melee range- probably to prevent hitting her by accident.  Together they brought it down.  Unfortunately, that was the least of her problems.

The remaining geth took advantage of her divided attention to close the distance between them and seized her by her armor.  Its other hand circled her throat.  As easily as lifting a parcel, it raised her into the air, and left her feet dangling useless and struggling to find the floor.  She tried to fire, but the bullet expelled uselessly into thin air.

She dropped the pistol.  Her hands closed automatically over its wrist.  No amount of writhing caused it to loosen its grip. 

“Shoot it!” she managed to gasp, fighting for air, knowing she was in his line of sight to the target.  The chance of being shot had nothing on the certainty of being dead.  “Do it!”

The geth cocked its flashlight head at her.  She felt its fingers begin to tighten.

And then, without warning, they were both flying.  Either by surprise or force, it let go as they sailed through the air.  She barely sucked down a mouthful of air before crashing into a mess of piping.  Shepard fell forward, landing ribs-first on a hard metal tube that knocked out what little wind she had, and then proceeded to slump to the ground. 

Distantly, she heard Kaidan fire at the geth, and the deeply mechanical noise of its machinery giving out, and realized that he must have thrown them both to get a clear shot.  That took guts, with his history.  She was strangely proud.

No hostiles remained.  She staggered to her feet, wheezing against bruised ribs, and retrieved her fallen pistol.  “Nice work.”

He took a deep breath.  “Race to the AA guns?”

She nodded, wordlessly.  Bit her lip.  Chances of making it before the _Normandy_ departed were slim, but it at least increased their distance from the bomb.  Maybe they could find a transport, or a hardened room.  Shepard jerked her head towards the gate.  “Go.  I’ll take rear-“

Kaidan’s leg exploded in a shower of gore.  He went down hard, too surprised to even yell.  It was a stroke of luck; the subsequent shots missed him entirely.  They scrambled towards the cooling tower, Shepard half-dragging him along, and crowded into its cover.

Saren swooped towards them, braced atop a flying raft, a rifle in his hands and a smug smile planted firmly on his face.  The same high-caliber rounds that ignored Kaidan’s shields left craters in the concrete rooftop.  Shepard snarled, infuriated beyond speech or caution, and fired her pistol.

He laughed as the shot went wide of his body.  Her mouth thinned, unperturbed, as she unloaded another round, and then a third.  The last bullet caught the control panel. 

The panel went out in a puff of smoke and a smell of burnt plastic insulation.  Rudderless, the craft went into a tailspin.  Saren, no longer grinning, was thrown from his toy, but managed to twist in the air and land on his feet.  The raft collided with the wall and slid to the ground.  “Shepard.”

He raised his rifle and fired again at her position.  She ducked out of sight behind the cooling tower.  The round punctured the metal where her head had been moments before.  Kaidan managed to pull himself up against the bomb, keeping the munition between himself and Saren, but he couldn’t even stand.

Shepard stepped back out and sent two explosive rounds directly at Saren’s chest while his rifle cooled.  Neither missed, but his shields absorbed them effortlessly.  That seemed to reassure him.  He relaxed his aim and came to a halt, his beady eyes flashing.  “I should applaud you.  My geth were utterly convinced the salarians were the real threat.  An impressive diversion.  My personal intervention was required to prevent an inconvenient disruption of my work.”

“Fuck off.”  She fired again, fruitlessly.

Kaidan’s face was ashen.  His hand clamped over his leg, but a stain of sticky blood spread slowly beneath it.  He met her eyes with no small amount of fear.  Her stomach dropped like a stone.

Saren took no notice.  “You don’t understand what’s at stake.”

Kaidan set his pistol on his thigh and added a second hand’s worth of pressure to the wound.  Shepard dragged her attention away.  “This isn’t complicated.  Either you’re the kind of scum who will do anything for a taste of power, or you’re completely indoctrinated.  I can’t say I care which it is.”

“You’ve seen the vision from the beacons,” Saren continued, in a perfectly reasonable tone, as though lecturing a wayward child.  “You of all people should understand the reapers’ capacity for dominance.  They cannot be stopped.”

He was interrupted as the _Normandy_ streaked away overhead, out of the range of the imminent explosion.  Shepard tracked the ship with naked despair.  All trace of mirth was gone.  The bomb’s timer continued its inexorable march towards detonation.  Even if she devised a way to escape its fiery conclusion, Kaidan needed medical attention, maybe more than her field medic training could provide. 

“I didn’t expect to find you here.  You should have left with your ship.”  Saren caught her expression.  “This is your problem, Shepard.  I saw it on Feros.  You could have ended the siege in a day if you were willing to give up the colony.  You’re so fixated on the perfect outcome that you’ll sacrifice everything without realizing it, until it’s too late.”

“You don’t understand the first damn thing about me.”  Real rancor colored her words, more than she intended to express.

“You think I don’t understand sacrifice?  I gave the order that killed my brother, my own flesh and blood, to keep my people safe, decades before you ever heard the word reaper.  Sometimes terrible decisions are required.  That’s what you never understood about being a spectre.  That’s why you’re not ready.”

Shepard wasn’t sure whether he was trying to convince her, or himself.  There was an edge to his voice, pleading, that set off every warning instinct she possessed.  Carefully, she said, “That’s not something to be proud of.”

“The Protheans tried to fight, and they were destroyed.”  Saren gestured futility, frustrated.  “What value has freedom beside survival?  How many trillions of Protheans died, when if only they had bowed to the invader, they might have lived?  Is submission not preferable to extinction?”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.  “Do you really believe the reapers will let us live?”

“Now you see why I never came forward with this to the Council.  We organics are driven by emotion instead of logic.  We rebel, even when we cannot win.  But if we are useful- if we are wise in our choices-“

On the ground, Kaidan attempted to undo his utility belt one-handed, and wrap it around the injured leg.  He didn’t dare take pressure off the injury for even a second to secure the improvised tourniquet.  Shepard watched it fumble from his grasp.

Saren continued, oblivious.  The wind was really picking up now.  It tugged at his crest, the air heavy with unshed rain.  “I joined Sovereign, aware of the dangers, in the hope of saving our civilization.  I had hoped this facility would protect me.”

_I need you to disappear._ She no longer cared if it was by his own volition, or by her hand.  She went for the jugular.  “You’re afraid Sovereign is influencing you.  You’re afraid it’s controlling your thoughts.”

“I’ve studied indoctrination.  The more control Sovereign exerts, the less capable the subject becomes.  That is my saving grace.  Sovereign needs me to find the Conduit.  My mind is my own.” 

But there was a question at the end of his statement, a lingering window of doubt Shepard wedged wide open.  “You look different.  A few new tubes, a few more metal grafts?  Is that Sovereign’s work, or yours?”

Saren touched his face before he could stop himself.  She kept up the assault, relentless.  “Are you listening to yourself?  You’re indoctrinated.  Sovereign played you like a cheap guitar.  The second it has the Conduit, it’ll squeeze whatever final use it can from your pathetic body, and toss you out with the rest of the garbage, just like it’s sacrificed hordes of geth all across the Traverse.”

“No.  You don’t understand.  Sovereign needs me.  I will- I will save more lives than have ever existed!”

“Is that the fantasy it fed you?”  Shepard spat the words.  “If you’re right, if our defeat is inevitable, then before we fall everyone in this galaxy will curse you for a traitor.  The conquest of the Protheans took centuries.  That will be your legacy.  Or you can tell me why Sovereign needs the Conduit, and be remembered some other way.”

For an instant- just the barest fraction of a second- it seemed as though Saren’s resolve wavered.  His mandibles slackened.  His eyes shifted.

And then the detonation timer blared an alarm that could be heard halfway across the base.  Saren turned away and cursed into his comm.

Shepard was on the ground the instant he was distracted, gathering up the ends of the belt and cinching it tight.  Kaidan’s head lolled, eyes unfocused. 

“Hey.  Hey, hey, hey.”  She snapped her fingers in front of his face.  “Stay with me.”

“Nathaly…”

She pried his hand off the wound, gingerly, waiting more blood to pulse free, but the tourniquet did its job.  Shepard slapped it full of medi-gel and flashed him a smile, more confident than she felt.  “You still owe me that cup of coffee.”

He tried to chuckle.  It came out more as dry gasps.

A geth shuttle appeared as if by magic.  Machines reached out of the hatch to haul Saren aboard.  Shepard thought briefly of commandeering it, but there were too many geth, and it was departing almost before Saren’s feet left the ground.  Her eyes landed on the busted hovercraft.  “Come on.  We have to move.”

She levered him up, supporting him under his shoulder, and they limped to the wall.  Smoke curled from the control panel.  Punching the switch did nothing.  Not knowing what else to try, Shepard struck it sharply once, then twice.  “Damn it!”

The alarm continued to wail.  Kaidan half-crouched, half-collapsed beside the busted unit and reached inside.  “Do you have to destroy absolutely everything you touch?”

“Can you fix it?”

“Trying…”  His voice seemed to come from a long way off.  He scrunched down further with a grimace of pain, the better to see into the box. 

Shepard stole an anxious glance at the bomb and tried not to shuffle her weight.  Her feet itched with the need to be gone.  “Come on, come on, come on-“

Kaidan made a strangled noise, and the raft hummed with renewed power, lifting shakily off the ground.  It was listing badly, but held position.  Shepard let out a whoop.

He was sweating.  “Have to… hold the wires.  Help…”

She managed to heave him onto the hovercraft and stepped up beside him.  “You set?”

From somewhere near her feet, Kaidan found his voice.  “Go!”

Her fist closed over the throttle as she absolutely floored it.  They shot into sky.

Shepard didn’t waste any acceleration on altitude.  They skimmed the rooftops.  “How long do we have?”

“Less than a minute.”  A pause, through gritted teeth.  “Maybe less.”

She could almost feel the heat of the pending explosion on her back.  It took a moment for her to realize that she was muttering a steady and unconscious stream of curses.  She squeezed harder, but the throttle was as open as it could get. 

The facility blurred into sand.  They reached the beach.  She spared no thought for the camp below, on the verge of obliteration, and headed deeper into the lagoon.  Kaidan counted under his breath.

“Crap,” he said, a half second before she saw a flash of white light reflect off the water.  An ear-splitting boom deafened her ears.

The whole world went silent.  A giant’s bat collided with their tiny raft.  Meters below, trees bent almost in half as the explosion expelled the very air from ground zero.  Shepard fought the hovercraft but they were losing control- rolling on the vortex of the pressure wave, beginning to capsize. 

Just as their pitch passed all hope of recovery, the current reversed and blew them out with the wrath of a small nova.

The wind screamed over the familiar pop of her suit’s shields failing.  They somersaulted through the sky.  For a very disorienting moment, the hovercraft flew over her head, and then she was falling, wildly, limbs akimbo and her brain too muddled for any small acts of self-preservation.  The sand flew up to meet her.  She landed with a sickening thud that cracked her injured ribs clean through and left her blind with agony for several nerve-wracking moments.

Breath wheezed into lungs almost too sore to continue.  Wavelets lapped with stinging softness at a face scraped raw by its close encounter with the beach, the water muddy from the explosion’s churn.  She couldn’t hear a blessed thing.

It was as much as few minutes more before her mind mustered a coherent thought.  _I’m still alive.  Holy fuck._

Shepard attempted to roll over.  The small effort left her dizzy and nauseous.  _Maybe, all things considered, that wasn’t the best outcome…_

Her head rolled until her cheek pressed into the ground.  Ten meters off, Kaidan lay curled on his side, facing away from her, his condition impossible to evaluate.  Her mouth moved, calling his name, but if it managed to produce sound, she couldn’t say.  She stumbled to her knees and promptly vomited. 

_No blood.  That’s good.  Keep going._ Her head was splitting.  Shepard dragged herself a few meters on all fours before managing to get to her feet, staggering over the sand. 

She fell as much as sat beside him, and rolled him onto his back, belatedly remembering she should have checked for spinal injury first.  He blinked up at her.

“Kaidan?” she asked, again, and was relieved to hear her voice this time, though it sounded wrapped in fifty layers of cotton wadding.

“I’m done with roller coasters,” he said distantly.  “Completely overrated.  It’s straight Ferris wheels from here on out.”

Her sense of relief was so immediate and overwhelming that she thought she might pass out.  “Can you feel your toes?”

He glanced down along his body.  “The bad leg’s pretty numb.”

“The tourniquet,” she said, not knowing why, because it was perfectly obvious.  His head sank back into the sand.  He closed his eyes.  She shook his shoulder.  “No napping.”

“Every piece of me is complaining way too loudly for a nap.”  But he obliged her, staring out at the sky

instead.

She reached for her comm.  “Shepard to _Normandy._   Do you read?”

Static greeted her.  Kaidan shook his head and coughed.  “Radiation.  Scrambling signal.  Going to need treatment.”

“We’ll have to flag them down some other way.” 

And then, perhaps because it couldn’t get any worse, the clouds rumbled one last warning and positively fell out of the sky in a great sheet of solid rain.

“You know,” Kaidan said, after a long, resigned moment of sitting in the wet, “This is not how I pictured navy life.”

He seemed naturally drawn to sarcasm in rough moments.  Shepard muffled a laugh born more of brain chemicals than amusement.  Right now, such a cocktail was pumping through her veins in response to their brush with mortality that she thought she could lift a Mako single-handed.  “We need to get you somewhere dry.”

Standing was easier the second time around.  They hobbled towards the cliffs, searching for shelter, Kaidan leaning on her heavily and hopping through the pouring rain.  Walking along the cliffs led them to an alcove whittled away by centuries of storms, which became a small cave.  It wasn’t much, but the water couldn’t get in, and they were somewhat concealed from any geth or krogan that might be fleeing the destruction.  They were in no shape to fight.

She deposited him, gently, against the wall.  He groaned a bit.  “ _Normandy_ will never find us in here.”

“Signaling the ship is at least three items down the list.”  Shepard began to strip off her hardsuit, wincing as it squeezed her damaged ribs.  He was stable, and the first rule of field medicine was to take care of yourself.  Otherwise you could end up with two dead instead of one.  “First, medical.  We need to check for internal hemorrhage and I need better access to your leg.  Can you manage?”

He nodded, curtly, and yanked at his glove. 

Shepard turned aside and peeled back her shirt, gingerly, just enough to get a look at her rib cage.  “Shit.”

Kaidan looked up.  “Damn.  That is the nastiest bruise I’ve ever seen.”

Her side and lower chest were solid purple, fading to a ghastly yellow-green at the edges.  Her fingertips explored the expanse, checking carefully, but despite the flashy look the damage seemed superficial.  No abdominal bleeds- another piece of luck. 

He watched her work, a bit crestfallen.  “I didn’t think I threw you that hard.”

“Stop that.”  She was detached, clinical.  “It was this or have my throat crushed by a geth.  You did the right thing.”

He shifted, uncomfortably, but allowed the subject to drop.  “I can’t feel my leg.”

Her attention snapped to him.  “We need to get that tourniquet off.”

“Could use some help with that.”  He sat up higher against the wall, using his hands to straighten his leg.

Shepard separated a pouch from her utility belt and crouched beside him.  He removed the armor, but couldn’t dislodge the suit webbing without loosening the belt that prevented him from bleeding out.  Unfortunately, that meant Shepard couldn’t see much of the injury.  She reached into her boot and drew a knife.

“Whoa,” Kaidan said, scooting back reflexively.

“Please.”  She got a firm grip on the suit and started sawing through the layers.  It took a bit of effort.  Her breath wheezed out of her lungs, hampered by her broken ribs.  The cut wasn’t clean, but eventually she made enough of a flap to see what was needed.  The bullet impacted at a high angle and at considerable speed.  It made a mess of his thigh.  “Chakwas is going to have a field day.  At least the bullet exited clean.”

He tried not to squirm as she prodded the wound.  “You do this often?”

“More than you’d think.”  She scraped away some of the goopy, half-set medi-gel to better see the artery, blessing its pain-numbing properties.  This couldn’t be fun for Kaidan, but at least he wasn’t screaming.  “Bone’s intact.  I’m no surgeon, but I think I can get this field-sutured well enough to hold out for a rescue.”

She knew as well as he did that bullet wounds were not typically sutured, but she had to stop the bleeding somehow, to restore circulation to the limb, and this was her best idea.  Apparently he agreed.  But there was a pause, a little too long, before he replied.  “About that rescue.  Nathaly, they have no reason to believe we’re alive.”

“They’re not going to leave without looking for us.  We’ll figure out a signal later.”  Shepard fished a squat bottle with squirt top out of a pouch.  “This may sting.”

“Gyaaah, that’s cold.”  He jumped as she squeezed a quantity of goo into the wound.  She spread it with her fingers, pinching here and there to close the worst bits.  “You carry surgical glue?”

“It’s a long story involving a forced march and a squad mate with a nasty slash into her abdominal cavity.  I won’t disgust you with the details, but suffice to say, I try not to be caught without tube anymore.”

“I can imagine.”

She waited another half a minute for the glue to set.  “Let’s see how this goes.”

Carefully, she loosened the belt secured about his thigh.  Color returned to his leg.  He twitched as sensation followed.  She resumed holding the injury shut, just in case the suture failed, applying pressure carefully.  Feeling awkward now that the emergency was past- the bullet struck him quite high on his thigh, and she couldn’t yet let go.

“This is the worst case of pins and needles ever.”  He rubbed at it in irritation.  “I suppose that won’t stop any time soon?”

“Even if I had the right equipment, my medical skills stop short of repairing a shredded artery.  This goop is likely creating a partial blockage, restricting blood flow, and toxins are starting to build up. You should be ok so long as it doesn’t take days for them to find us.”  She was filling up the air with matter-of-fact words, aware that bigger questions lurked just out of sight, and wanting to hold them off as long as she could.  Outside, the rain continued to fall.

He watched her work for a few moments.  “Why’d you come back for me?”

“You know why.”  She shook her head and pinched the wound tighter.  It didn’t seem enough, so she offered the same lame explanation she gave Liara.  “I could never leave you behind.”

He made no reply.  She glanced up.  His expression was tender and exasperated.  It had been an incredibly stupid stunt, even by her standards.

The glue seemed set.  She cupped his cheek in her hand, leaned forward and kissed his forehead.  “Get some sleep.  It’ll help you heal.”

He caught her by the waist as she started to go.  “I’m not tired.”

She saw the look in his eyes, and it was suddenly difficult to breathe.  “You’ve lost a lot of blood.  You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I have enough blood.” 

She glanced down.  The evidence on that was in his favor.

He played with the waistband of her pants, running his finger along it, tugging at it, just a little bit, just enough to make her mouth go dry.  “You know, if I’d met you in any situation where you weren’t my C.O., I would’ve done everything in my power to persuade you to go home with me, and I’m not that sort of person.”

“You wouldn’t have needed to try too hard,” she replied, too distracted to think it through.  “I am that sort of person.”

He chuckled, warm and low.  His hand slipped inside her waistband and hugged bare skin.  The answering throb of her body was totally out of proportion with the gesture and set off a brief internal war for self-control.  Shepard understood it all too well.  It was, in some ways, the only natural reaction to confronting death and walking away.

She closed her eyes and put her hand over his to still it, gentle, but firm.  “Kaidan, think.  I can’t breathe, you can’t move, this is a godforsaken stone cave, who knows how many geth are left out there, and you’re still my subordinate.”

He let out a sigh and leaned his head back against the wall.  Reluctantly, he let her go.  “One day, we’re going to run out of excuses.”

“Yeah.”  Shepard took another shaky breath, unable to completely neutralize the disappointment that came with doing the right thing.  Feeling the cold air where his hand slid away.  “Evidently not today.”

Eventually, he fell into a restless sleep, propped against the cave wall.  Kaidan’s face was flushed.  Likely a small fever from the inevitable infection, nothing Chakwas couldn’t handle once the _Normandy_ got off its flabby ass and found them.  Shepard kept watch.  She was beyond exhausted, but her mind wandered, making it easy to stay awake in case refugees from Saren’s lab came knocking. 

A small sound almost like a growl emerged from her throat.  _Just let the geth try.  I dare them._

After the fight they endured, the thought of anyone wresting his survival from her was so enraging that she got to her feet and stalked out to the beach, letting the steady rain soak through her hair and clothes.  Her need to protect the people closest to her was nothing new, yet, this was different somehow.  For once, she wasn’t trying to protect him from herself- only everything else that wanted them dead.

He turned her down on Arcturus, but she turned him down here, and it wasn’t because he was sick or because of any regulation.  Shepard never in her life gave a damn about a reg after it ceased to make any sense.  Before, it was just sex.  Now it would mean something.  Several hours ago, she thought she was going to her death, and for no better reason than she couldn’t bear to let him die.

It was a big gesture for a fledgling courtship, and she’d done it purely on instinct.  Shepard didn’t want to examine her motives too closely. 

Shepard had a singularly unhealthy history regarding her romantic pursuits, but she had few regrets.  What bothered her was when she decided she did want something more, something that could last, it seemed impossible to switch directions.  Nobody wanted that with her.  Blaming other people was easy, as was blaming her circumstances, but she wondered how much it was herself- her natural cynicism, her misgivings, her reticence towards any kind of vulnerability, or the way her work always, always won in the end no matter how hard she fought it. 

She ignored sound strategy, she delegated away her duty to her posting and her ship, she ignored her responsibility to lead, all because his life meant more to her than all that.  And the truth was, despite her better judgment and feeble attempts to locate an exit, she stayed in this mess of a career because she never did have anything that quite outweighed that sense of obligation.  What the hell was she playing at?

Shepard stared out at the lagoon, soaked to the bone, her back turned to the cave. 

/\/\/\/\/\

In the end, faced with nothing but wet brush, acres of blonde sand, and immutable water, Shepard settled for laying out the pieces of their suits on the beach as a signal.  The garish artificial colors contrasted with the background- enough for the _Normandy_ VI to recognize an anomaly and issue an alert, should it image the area.

Kaidan was a bit improved by morning.  The body could replace fluid quickly, though platelets would take time.  At least with the rain, they weren’t hurting for water.  It collected in pools all over the lagoon, tucked into foliage, gathered in stony basins.  Food was another story.  Their last meal was more than a day in the past, at this point not so much a true hardship as an annoyance, but one which proved difficult to ignore.  Injuries demanded nutrients.  Foraging was out of the question- Shepard had no idea whether Virmire was compatible with human biology.  Primitive suit diagnostics warned that radiation hung over everything, and every second they were out here, away from modern treatments, increased their risk.  Technically, so did drinking the water, but if they were here long enough for it to matter, anti-radiation therapies wouldn’t save them from the background anyway.

She assessed Alenko’s condition and weighed it against the likelihood of being found.  Generally, he was the optimist, but in this situation Shepard was more hopeful.  She believed her ship would make a cursory inspection of the site, for the formal report if nothing else.  Pressly was thorough.  However, Kaidan needed more than a dab of glue and a few mouthfuls of rain.  She decided to give it another day, and then she’d head back into the wreckage of the facility, hoping to find some kind of off-world transport.  It wasn’t a good plan; most of the building was gone.  But it beat twiddling her thumbs.

It turned out not to matter.  Around mid-afternoon, just as the sky was gearing up for another deluge, they heard the telltale roar of ship engines overhead.  Shepard ran outside, waving her arms.  The ship disappeared over the lip of the cliffs, and then, several minutes later, made a second approach, at a low and leisurely pace.  She shielded her eyes as it set down in the lagoon, kicking up considerable saltwater.

The hatch to the Mako drop chute popped open.  Several of her crew waited within, including Chakwas, Liara, and Garrus. 

The turian’s face split into a grin.  His arm was in a sling, his shoulder bandaged.  “Damn, it’s good to see you.”

He came forward and gripped her hand, a gesture of solidarity.  She returned the smile.  “It’s been a hell of a ride.”

“Shepard,” Liara said, with emphatic relief, though she stayed where she was.

The commander glanced from one to the other.  “I have to admit, we were sweating it a bit, wondering when you’d show up.”

“It was Navigator Pressly.”  Chakwas’ dry amusement somehow failed to tarnish her pleasure at finding them alive.  “He was very insistent that you’d die of embarrassment before you were killed by your own bomb.”

She blinked, genuinely surprised.  The doctor’s expression grew to include a small smirk.  “He has more of a spine than you credit him.”

“Evidently.”

Chakwas rubbed her hands with an appraising sort of look.  “I take it since Lieutenant Alenko did not emerge to greet us, he took injury?”

“Shot in the leg.”  Shepard jerked her thumb towards the cave.  “He’s stable, but it’s pretty bad.  You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

She didn’t question Shepard’s assessment.  While Shepard had minimal medical expertise, she’d seen more injuries than a horror film fest.  Chakwas simply nodded.  “I see.  If you’ll excuse me, Commander.”

The doctor hurried toward the cave, her medical bag swinging beside her.  Shepard allowed herself a moment’s satisfaction over a mission well done.  All things considered, given the enormous risks of Kirrahe’s plan, everything wrapped up well.  Better than she had any right to hope.

Garrus shook his head with disbelief.  “Anybody else, and I’d never believe it.  You should both be dead.  I don’t know if it’s luck, skill, or you’re just too damn crazy to die.”

“Luck.  Definitely luck.”  She folded her arms over her chest, still smiling, and turned back to him.  “I should commend you as well.  Where the hell is Ash, anyway?  I’d have expected her to be one of the first people down here, to rub my nose in it.”

His expression darkened, and he exchanged a look with Liara, who shifted her eyes to the floor. 

A chill ran down her neck that had nothing to do with the clouds gathering overhead.  “Talk to me.”

“Things got hot up at the tower.”  Garrus cleared his throat and pulled himself to something like attention.  “Mannovai Team was already tangled with a large squad of geth when we arrived.  The geth were between us and them.  We couldn’t approach, but they were caught our crossfire.”

“What happened?” 

“Another squad showed up.  Flanked Mannovai.  We drilled a hole and laid down covering fire, but there wasn’t enough to move more than one man every few minutes.  Quarters were too tight for _Normandy_ assist-“

A terrible sense of dread had risen in her.  Her mouth formed the question she didn’t want answered.  “Garrus- _what happened?_ ”

He shifted a bit and glanced off.  It wasn’t much- just enough to draw her attention to the far end of the bay.  In the shadows lay an object.  It was long, and dark, slumped gently over its contents.  Zipper gleaming in the weak light.

Shepard stared, slack-jawed.  _She was your responsibility._

He took a breath.  His voice seemed to come from a long way off.  “Williams insisted on getting the salarians to safety before she would move.  You know Ash- she’s never listened to anyone but you.  They closed in around her and… and…”

He trailed off, unable to continue. 

Shepard couldn’t breathe.  _I gave her the support she needed.  I made sure she had help.  I made the right decision for all the right reasons._

_She was my responsibility and I wasn’t there._

The unassuming body bag expanded in her sight until it was the whole world.  A cold voice, Saren’s, echoed in her mind.  _“You’re so fixated on the perfect outcome that you’ll sacrifice everything.”_

_I made sure she was taken care of.  I did.  I sent the whole damn team._

Garrus and Liara watched her with growing trepidation.  Garrus actually took a step back.

_I wasn’t there!_

Her voice rose to a scream, a ragged, bloody howl that shook the trees and left her vocal cords in tatters.  “It was for nothing?  It was for _nothing?!”_


	48. A Captain Hannah Story

The metronomic drip of the IV measured her waiting with each descending drop.  Shepard was by nature impatient, but right now, time was a concept written in a foreign language- an inert rosetta stone examined at some distance, academic, bearing no tangible relevance.  Time was change, and nothing in this room was changing.

The radiation treatment burned where it entered her vein.

Beyond the med bay windows, the crew went about their business, returning the _Normandy_ to the cold depths of interstellar space where not even Sovereign could find them.  It was the only order Shepard was cognizant of giving once they were aboard ship.  Her overriding obligation to protect the crew cut across the cavern that had opened in her head.  What was left of them, anyway.

The glances they shot towards the medical center ranged from furtive to disbelieving.  Shepard, the only ambulatory patient of the several marines and salarians awaiting the doctor’s attentions, stared back without caring much.  It wasn’t difficult to imagine what must be going through their minds.  There was only one thought on hers.  It echoed and rattled and screamed, but the message never wavered.  It was drilled into the bone plates of her skull.

Chakwas appeared before her, wielding a penlight. 

Each eye was duly prised open.  Shepard offered no resistance.  Her ongoing passivity the last few hours seemed to put even the unshakeable doctor on edge, and she chattered to fill up the uncertainty.  “Pupil response is normal.  No adverse effects from the medication.  The fractures you sustained to ribs seven, eight, and nine, while moderate in severity, require only time.  I’ve injected a nanobiot compound that will create an internal cast to better support your ribs and relieve pain during recovery.  On the whole, you were quite lucky.”

_Lucky,_ Shepard thought.

“Your recovery from the head wound you sustained on Noveria has been set back several weeks.  I told you to take it easy.”  Chakwas put the light back in her pocket.  “How are you feeling?”

Shepard stared at her as if she didn’t quite comprehend the question.

“How’s Kaidan?” she asked.  It was the only thing she had any energy left to care about.

“He should be awake soon.”  Ordinarily, Chakwas would have put up a curtain for the surgery, but Shepard watched with the same dull dispassion exhibited throughout her treatment.  “Commander, with all due respect, stop evading.”

“I’m fine,” she growled.  “Are we done here?”

“Yes.”  The syllable was clipped.  Chakwas extracted the IV needle and placed a bandage over the puncture.  “I’ll need to see you again in twelve hours for the next dose.”

On the table across the aisle, Kaidan stirred, groaning.  Chakwas pursed her lips, gave Shepard an exasperated look that promised this conversation was far from finished, and scurried over to assess his vitals. 

“Try not to move,” she said, pressing on his shoulder as he attempted to sit up.  “It was dicey enough without you tearing out your stitches.”

He closed his eyes.  “I feel like a truck ran me over.”

“That would be the explosion, and the fall.”  Chakwas pushed a syringe of medication into his IV.  “Synthetic transfusions also carry the side effect of profound exhaustion.  A few good nights of sleep and you’ll feel much better.”

Kaidan nodded and lay back, rubbing his injured leg.  Chakwas swatted his hand.  “And don’t pick at it.”

She returned to her desk and began updating her notes.  He glanced around the room, taking in the several other patients where they slept, before spotting Shepard, seated on the edge of an exam table with her feet dangling over the floor.  “Hey.”

Shepard was aware she ought to be happy, but all she felt was the empty satisfaction of crossing off a single line-item on an unimaginably long list.  Kaidan survived.  Check.

His brow furrowed as the silence grew.  “Something’s wrong.”

She swallowed, and ran her tongue over her lips.  “Ashley is dead.”

Kaidan did sit up then, propped up on his elbow, doctor’s admonitions or no.  “What?”

“I don’t see which part of that sentence was complicated.”

He was completely poleaxed, floundering after words.  “How?  The whole team went up to get her-“

“The salarians got out,” she said harshly, thinking, _not the whole team.  I wasn’t there._   “She didn’t.  It’s only been four hours and I’ve been stuck here.  I haven’t been able to debrief anyone yet.”

“I don’t understand.  Ash is _dead_?”

“Yeah.  I know.”  She slid off the table as if she were made of wood, each joint stiff and creaking.  She found she could barely look at him.  _I traded Ashley for a building.  For absolutely nothing._

_What a waste._

He raised himself a bit higher.  “Nathaly, wait-“

She paused at the threshold, as though on the verge of responding, but in the end she exited without a word.  The hatch shut smoothly behind her.

/\/\/\/\/\

It was thirty-six excruciating hours later.  After leaving med bay, she wandered the ship, picking up a task and abandoning it in almost the same movement, feeling her crew’s discomfited looks burning into her back.  Nobody seemed to know what to say, least of all Shepard.  After a few hours of that, she retreated to her cabin, thumped her datapad against her desk until it fizzled into life, and forced herself to write a list of what needed to be done.  She had been methodically attacking it ever since, with neither interest nor attention.  But, slowly, work progressed.

Reporting to Anderson had been a special kind of torture.  The captain had known her far too long for her to hide how upset she was, or angry, or ashamed.  She summarized the mission succinctly, sans any embellishment, and left her reasons for going after Alenko vague.  Aware as she spoke of the manipulation; Anderson was familiar with her history.  He’d personally debriefed her after Akuze, and wouldn’t probe too deeply into her desire not to leave anyone behind.  Using that left her feeling dirty.

He tried to persuade her to come in for a discussion, face-to-face, and she read it for the care it was.  For the same reason she was able to evade his offer.  They were in the same line of work.  Anderson understood without requiring explanation that sometimes there weren’t enough words in the world, and every last one of them drew blood.  Sometimes, people like them needed to be left alone to cope even when every psychological best practice in the book said otherwise.

She did it knowing in this case the shrinks probably had it right, but there was no beginning to explain her thoughts.  Taking advantage of her mentor, her friend, to cover her ass was vomit-inducing.  It was also reactionary.  She left with no idea why she’d done it.  To protect Kaidan?  To protect her?  She damn well deserved anything that came down on her from this.  She’d almost welcome it.  Ash was dead, and somebody should pay.  Somebody should be responsible.

Still, nothing about her obligation to Anderson was as bad as the one awaiting her back in her quarters, the one she had to Ash’s family.  The salutation sat on the terminal screen, the cursor blinking after the comma, all the blank lines waiting to be filled with more of those bloody, tearing words.  Shepard hadn’t managed to work at it for more than a minute altogether.

Currently she sat on the bridge, beside Joker.  The co-pilot on duty took one look at her face and vacated the couch.  She wasn’t sure she liked it, this wordless communication laced with fear, but at the moment she lacked the will to object. 

“Ma’am,” Joker said, cautious following a speedy once-over as she slipped into the seat.  Her expression resembled a thunderhead.

“Where the hell are we?”  She was too tired to be nice.

“I thought you’d never ask.”  He brought up a nav screen.  “Given the, uh, vagueness of your orders-“

“All that mattered was getting out of Sovereign’s range as quickly as possible.”  Shepard slumped down.  It said something regarding recent events that this was the first time since leaving Virmire that the impossibility of figuring out what the hell to do with a reaper crossed her mind.  It said even more that she didn’t much care about that, either. 

“Right.” Joker licked his lips and tapped a few controls.  “We’re en route to the Voyager Cluster.”

It took her a few seconds to remember.  “Voyager?  That’s where Kyle said Cerberus is hiding.”

“Well… we’re stuck on Saren until the Council agrees to let us go into Terminus space, or until you’re ready to tell them to go to hell.”  He coughed.  “So I took some liberty and thought you might want to, err, pursue other leads.”

The tiny dot that was their ship inched towards the system with their connecting relay.  There was too much going on.  Shepard hoped Cerberus would lead them to Saren, but they’d found him, and somehow, it had all gone wrong. 

_Somehow?  You left your post.  You decided you’d rather die with your- with him than do your job._

“Commander?” Joker was eyeing her with a rare trepidation.

She rubbed her forehead.  “I don’t know how much good it’ll do.”

He averted his gaze, staring ahead into the _Normandy’s_ console.  “About Ash-“

“We need to release Ash’s body.”  There was no color to the words.  “Before any other detours.”

He swallowed.  “We can do that in Kepler.  There’s an Alliance outpost.  We can leave the salarian survivors there, too.  Ma’am-“

“That’s what we’ll do then.”  Her tone indicated that she couldn’t have been less interested if they were discussing what they ate for breakfast.  There was a monotony to it that unnerved everyone in hearing range.  The rest of the staff on the bridge shifted in their seats.

Joker, no exception, adjusted his posture.  “I didn’t know where else to point us.”

“Voyager is as good as anywhere else.”  Shepard levered out of the chair.  “Let me know when we get there.”

“Commander-“

“There was something else?”

Joker was infinitely frustrated.  “What happened was fucked up, but it wasn’t your fault.  We still have this mission.  You know, giant machines from the distant past hell-bent on destroying the galaxy?  Snap out of it!  We need-”

“That will be all, Flight Lieutenant.”  This was said with a note of warning in the same way a hard vacuum placard indicated opening the adjacent port would be unwise.  The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.  “As you were.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard steeled herself to sit in front of the terminal.  Just get it done, that was the trick.  Like when she broke her leg and had to crawl out of the building and splint it on her own.  It was a compound fracture, hurt like nothing she’d ever experienced, and she was forced to stop at several points, gagging from the sheer intensity of bone grating against bone as autonomic tears washed the soot from her face.  But once it was done, it was over, and over was better.  Over was key.  Things of the past could only hurt her if she let them.

The message was exactly as she left it:

_Dear Mrs. Williams,_

She systemically locked every emotion away, put her hands to the keys, and typed, business-like.

_By now I’m sure you know that your daughter, Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, died while executing a critical mission on the planet Virmire._

How could anyone live with that?  It wasn’t six months ago that the Williams family watched Eden Prime burn on the vids, not knowing whether their sister and daughter made it out but well aware that the fatalities were astronomical.  But she survived, and like most who journey through hell, found herself rewarded- a shipside posting, a major goal of her career since she enlisted.  The Williamses shared everything.  Ash’s happiness was their happiness.

Entire lifetimes had passed since then.  It was hard for Shepard to recall how she stood in the med bay, listing gently side-to-side, as Anderson told her Williams was coming aboard and argued stridently against it.  _She’s not prepared_ , Shepard said.  _She’s traumatized.  She’ll snap._   She wanted nothing to do with a soldier carrying that kind of fresh baggage because she understood its weight from the inside out.

It was a terrible irony that, when it came down to the wire, when it truly counted, Shepard was the one to break.  Ash held strong.  She did her duty, even at the cost of her own life.  When to move, when to hold, when to be a hero and when to abandon ship was a matter of experience. She died because Shepard left her a decision she was not qualified to make.

Williams enlisted in ’76.  A year for training, followed by garrison postings on quiet, settled worlds.  The unofficial war with the batarian Hegemony effectively ended on Torfan in ’78.  Ash had a fistful of recommendations and minor promotions, including a commendation for her service as a platoon guide.  Her training record was beyond reproach and her talent, in Shepard’s observation, was virtually limitless.  But due to bad timing or her family history or some combination thereof, she hadn’t seen real combat until Eden Prime.  No amount of dedication, skill, or instinct supplanted experience.  The lesson was as old as it was immutable. 

Shepard gazed through the screen, not seeing it, nor the wall beyond.  Her ears filled with the sounds of battle, fuzzy over the comm, the shouts and orders warring to be heard over it.  Dedication drove Ash to want a place in that squad, Mannovai, the one leading the assault into the facility, the one that pursued their enemy deep into its depths.  Instinct told her to prioritize saving the salarians, even though anyone judged worthy of STG had to be more knowledgeable about such situations, because at the most basic level a soldier protected other people.  And skill- skill whispered she could do it, because she’d always been the best, in her training cadre, in her unit, the cream of the crop even as a latecomer to a hand-picked marine detail aboard one of the most elite ships in the Alliance. 

They all lied.

_She needed her C.O. to drag her ass out of there, kicking and screaming._ Shepard closed her eyes.  _And at that moment, both of her superiors were too busy trying to save each other to be bothered._

How was she supposed to tell her mother, this woman who had lost her husband to the same voracious monster, who had entrusted her daughter to Shepard’s command, that she didn’t know exactly how or why her daughter was dead because she wasn’t there when it happened?

In her head, Mrs. Williams looked just like Ash, older, maybe, grayer, a lined figure in a cardigan and a sensible haircut.  _I don’t understand.  Where were you, Commander?_

Shepard slammed the terminal shut hard enough to crack the plastic vambrace and fled the room.

/\/\/\/\/\

Kirrahe’s team took the opportunity to express their gratitude as they departed the ship.  Shepard wore a brittle sort of smile as she saw them off.  They’d lost a third of their number and still considered the mission a success.  Objectively, they were right.  In other circumstances she would even agree.  Their mission to Eden Prime was at least a partial success despite Jenkins’ death; but then, there was nothing, barring precognition, that anyone could have done to save Jenkins, and the same was true of many other marines she’d lost over the years.  This wasn’t like that.

Kirrahe paused to shake her hand.  “Good work, Commander.  I am sorry about the loss of Chief Williams.  She was an excellent soldier.”

“None better,” she forced herself to say.

“Lending aid to my team was a calculated risk to your own mission, and I understand extracting us contributed to the sticky circumstances.”  His transparent inner lids flicked up over his eyes.  “Not many who operate at our level would be so concerned about sparing lives.  If there is ever an opportunity to repay the favor, you need only ask.”

She acknowledged this offer with solemnity.  “Good luck, Captain.”

He nodded.  “When you find Saren, kill him.  Don’t bother with messages or justice.  He doesn’t understand either.”

And with that, the slender salarian departed the ship.

It was lunchtime.  Shepard’s feet carried her to the mess, because it was what she did at lunch, and there was nothing that could presently compel her to return to her quarters.  It certainly wasn’t due to a need for food.  For now, hunger seemed to be something that only happened to other people.

It was meatloaf day, the noxious scent of reheated ground beef saturating the air.  Her stomach heaved.  Balak had her dead to rights when he shot out their drive outside of Bash’bat, but somehow, she’d wriggled off his hook.  Chahine had not.  Shepard always managed to survive no matter who else paid in her stead.

She took a deep breath through her mouth, and surged onward as though nothing were wrong. 

There were still those looks, those damned furtive, gossipy looks, as she dug through the freezer and slammed her tray of flash frozen fried rice through the machine.  Their hesitation was sand beneath her skin.  They all knew what happened and none of them had the spine to say a damned thing.  In failing Ash, in a way, she’d failed all of them.  The only reason it wouldn’t happen again was that Shepard very much doubted Kaidan would announce the patrols, next time.  And not one had the balls to confront her.

She looked at the lot of them and thought, _I taught you better than this._

Garrus slipped in line beside her, with his own special rations.  It had been a surprise to discover that the Alliance in fact produced dextro freeze pack meals, for special liaisons and joint missions.  Garrus and Tali maintained this wasn’t much of a blessing.  Human chefs had difficulty adapting recipes for what they could not taste.

“Hey, Shepard,” he said, feeding the tray along the conveyor.

She grunted something unintelligible.  He waited a moment, and when it became obvious that was the full extent of her reply, continued, “Specialist Lowe taught me this great English idiom the other day.  Cat got your tongue?  It still doesn’t make much sense, but the visual is-“

She had no patience.  “Is there something you wanted, Garrus?”

“Nothing.”  He blinked.

Shepard turned back to the machine, tapping her fingers against the counter. 

He let that go on for scarcely a few seconds before asking, “Is this working for you?”

“I’m here to eat, not talk.”  Her tone was sharp enough to shave with. 

Garrus, however, was merely irritated.  “If you’re not hiding in your cabin, you’re making up reasons to be too busy to talk about this.  Everyone misses Ash-“

Her face snapped to his, and her voice came out as deadly as a promise.  “Do not speak to me about Ashley.”

“Why the hell not?”  His volume rose, attracting the attention of the seated crew.  Towards the far end of the table, Shepard could make out Kaidan struggling to his feet, alarmed, slowed by his crutches.  Garrus took no notice.  “Everyone feels like crap.  Everyone feels guilty.  You’re not special.”

“Some of us are more guilty than others,” she shot back, before she could think better of it.

He scowled.  “What is that supposed to mean?”

Shepard turned to him with enough venom to stun a varren.  “I gave you a very simple task.  Go up to the defense tower and get her out.  What the hell happened?”

“It was- a lot happened fast.”  His expression was stricken.  “I yelled for her to leave.  She told me to stuff it.  Salarians were coming across- we had to cover them- I don’t know how it happened.”

“Very helpful.  I’m so glad we talked.”  Shepard turned her back on him.

He sucked in a breath.  His voice was almost a growl, flat and hard.  “Don’t you dare blame me for this.  Ash was exactly where she wanted to be, and so were you.”

Shepard spun and struck him hard with a right hook that was known and feared across several worlds.  Thick turian hide crunched beneath her knuckles as his mandible slammed into his jaw.  If he’d been navy, it would never have happened.

But he wasn’t one of her crew, and she wasn’t a superior officer.  The usual rules didn’t apply.  His fist lashed out and smashed against her nose.

Blood ran down her face, hot and thick over her fingers.  His breath came heavy.  “Are we done?”

Her blue eyes were cold and hard.  She wiped the blood away with the back of her hand, leaving a long red smear, and departed without another word.

/\/\/\/\/\

It was later.  Kaidan came down and tried to talk to her through her hatch until her unresponsiveness drove him away.  She had avoided visiting him in med bay, and stayed upstairs after he regained mobility, since he couldn’t manage the stairs.  The tactic was admittedly cheap, but effective.  Not that he was trying very hard- she got the impression he didn’t know what to say to her, either.

Her heart ached to talk to him, to rant and grieve and wait for him to say something that would miraculously make this bearable, like he somehow always managed.  But it was hard to see how anything about it could be improved, and she sure as hell did not deserve comfort.  There was very little about him she ever deserved.

When he had tried to speak, it was halting, guilt-stricken.  None of this was his fault.  He made the correct choice when he told her to leave him behind and her actions alone forced him into this appalling position.  Kaidan never deserved something like her, either.

Shepard sat at her desk and stared at the terminal screen.  The letter was long overdue but the words refused to come.

The _Normandy_ comm burst into life.  Serviceman Santos.  “Commander, we’re holding a transmission from the _SSV Kilimanjaro_.”

_Fuck._ Shepard buried her face in her hands.  “Not now.”

“Captain Shepard was very insistent, ma’am.  She heard about Virmire.”

“How?” That information was being held close.  Not classified, per se, but not advertised either.

“She didn’t say.”  Santos paused.  “Shall I put her through?”

Thirty seconds ago Shepard would have said that her mother was the last person she wanted to see.  But as Shepard had decided not to be honest with her own chain of command, and given how she was feeling about it...  Her mother would not spare her any criticism out of sympathy.  Shepard wanted the truth.  This was as impartial a source as she was likely to find.

She straightened in her chair and glanced at the ceiling.  “Put her through.”

A moment later, Hannah Shepard’s creased face appeared on her terminal screen.  “Nathaly.”

“Hi, mom.”  It was harder to speak than she expected.

Hannah peered at her and started to say something.  Shepard laid her palms flat on the table and cut her off.  “I want to tell you about a mission.  Unofficially.  I need a… point of view, and Anderson is not… being helpful.”

“David called as soon as he was done talking to you.”  Hannah Shepard folded her hands in front of her, abruptly businesslike.  Her expression was a closed book.  “What’s on your mind?”

Shepard took a deep breath and laid it out, as neutrally as she could.  “We were looking for a lost salarian Special Tasks Group ship.  They found a research facility controlled by Saren on the edge of the Perseus Veil.”  The story came easier the second time around.  “We jointly arranged a mission to blow it up by retrofitting the salarian drive core as a bomb and delivering it to the heart of the lab.”

“What was your plan of attack?”

“Split the salarians into three teams to assault the front gates as a distraction, while I took a fourth team around the back to disable the defenses.  Casualties were expected to be high, but acceptable given the target’s value.”  Her voice caught.  “I… assigned one of my marines, Chief Williams, as a liaison between the squads.”

“Sounds reasonable.”  Hannah leaned forward.  “What happened?”

“Why do you assume something happened?”

“Because I haven’t seen you this shaken since- well, since ever.  Not since you were a little girl, anyway.”

She swallowed and looked away.  “We stormed the facility at sunrise.  It was a textbook mission.  We-“

“What happened?” Hannah repeated, patiently.

Shepard brought her fist down on the desk, rattling the terminal.  “I am trying to tell you what happened!”

Hannah blinked, but stayed quiet.  Her daughter took a shaky breath.    “We reached the detonation site and began deploying the ordnance.  I don’t have any combat engineers aboard ship, but my marine detail commander is an engineer by education so he fills in.  Lieutenant Alenko.  He was in charge of setting up the detonation sequence.”

It was so clear in her memory.  Kaidan annoyed over the “monkey job”.  Her marines antsy, stuck on a ship while they listened to their comrades risk their lives.  Garrus’ casual assertion that Shadow Team could secure the bomb while those marines returned to extract the remaining teams.  Agreeing with the plan despite her gut feeling that it was a bad order.  Why?  Because she was too close to these people, and didn’t like making them unhappy- any of them.

Her knees drew up against her chest, a ball of a woman, toes within her socks curling around the edge of the chair.  She couldn’t look at the screen.  “We got a distress call from one of the salarian teams.  My chief was with them.  They were under fire and couldn’t make it to the extraction point.  I left K- the lieutenant at the bomb site and proceeded with the rest of my squad.  We’d almost reached their location when Alenko reported geth in his area.”

“Once,” Hannah said, “During the conflict with the batarians, I was in the Skyllian Verge aboard a carrier.  I was commanding scouting sorties-“

“Mom.” Shepard rubbed her face.  “I don’t need a bracing pick-me-up.  I don’t need inspiration or a- a life lesson.  Right now, I need you to listen very carefully to me and tell me what you think about _my_ mission.”

Hannah glared, hating to be interrupted.  But she let go of the story.  Maybe it was the new leaf she promised the last time they spoke, or merely the tension in Shepard’s tone.  “What did you do?”

She took a shaky breath.  “I sent my team ahead to extract Chief Williams and the salarians.  The salarians got out, but Ash died in the ensuing fight.”

“Your team,” she noted, confused.  “I don’t understand.  Where were you?”

Shepard stared at the wall.  “I went back to support Lieutenant Alenko.”

Not the bomb.  Kaidan himself.  It was the first of an entire scaffold of errors enclosing her like a tomb.

If she’d listened to Kaidan when he told her anyone could set up the bomb, he would have led the assault squad.  A career marine ten years in with nothing to prove, he would have obeyed when Kirrahe ordered Mannovai to pull back.  If she’d listened to her own gut, hadn’t sent away the marines at the bomb site, they could have dispatched the geth or at least cleared a retreat.  If she let Kirrahe run his op as he saw fit and didn’t insist on extracting the survivors with her ship prior to the explosion- If she at least got on the comm and told Ashley to move her ass-

Hannah was still trying to wrap her head around her last statement.  It had her flabbergasted.  “You abandoned your squad to retrieve a lone marine?  Why?”

“I thought I could get him out.”  It was only half a lie.  She wasn’t completely convinced she couldn’t get him out, either.

Her mother was not deceived.  Her attention sharpened.  “Who was left on the team?”

“A number of- specialized crew.”  Shepard cleared her throat.  “Mostly, um, aliens with a reason to want Saren put down.  We’ve sort of collected them along the way.”

Hannah’s mouth thinned.  “Were there any Alliance left?”

“…No.”

“You left a team with no authority to direct your operation in charge while you attempted a hare-brained rescue of a trapped, outnumbered lieutenant.”  Her disbelief was palpable. 

Shepard shot her a testy glare.  “Should I have just left Kaidan to die, then?”

Hannah sat back and shook her head.  “There are- there are no good decisions in that kind of situation.  But you stay with your crew.  Always stay with your crew.  For god’s sake, Nathaly-”

“He’s my crew, too.”  Her look was annoyed.  She’d asked for Hannah’s opinion, but she expected moral condemnation, not casual chastisement for ignoring SOP.  Her procedural criticism cheapened everything they endured.  “We’re both fine, by the way.  Thanks for asking.”

There was somewhat of a longer pause, before her mother posed the question a second time.  “Why did you go after him?”

Shepard stared off into the middle distance, a few centimeters past the screen.  She hugged her knees closer, feeling small and ashamed.

Nearly a minute passed.  Then her mother said, slowly, “The question you asked me last time we spoke.  About your father and I.  You were talking about this marine- the one who stayed behind with the bomb?”

Shepard’s lips pressed together so hard they were trembling. 

“Answer me, Nathaly.”

“I couldn’t leave him behind,” she burst out.  And then, driven beyond any sense of discretion, she added the part she hadn’t dared pronounce, not to anybody, not even in the silence of her own mind.   “Not if I wanted to be the same person afterwards.”

Another few seconds passed in silence.  Hannah watched her for a long moment, and sighed.  “You wanted a professional opinion.”

Shepard nodded once, curtly, unable to meet her eyes.

Her mother shook her head.  “Well.  I don’t think you need me to tell you this is why the navy has regulations forbidding fraternization.  You abandoned your post in a time of crisis.  You delegated your duty as a squad leader to… to liaisons with no official standing.  You gave no thought to the other lives depending on you, aboard your ship and on the ground.”

Each sentence was delivered clinically, neither harsh nor softened.  They fell on Shepard like a lash, all the dark thoughts within her head distilled into a damning reprimand, the one she earned.  It was almost a relief.  Or at least a vindication.

Her mother continued apace.  “This was not a tragic accident.  This was willful.  It was wrong.  You knew it was wrong when you did it, and it didn’t matter.  You failed your duty, and your crew, and Chief Williams.  If you were under my command, at the very least, I’d have you relieved of duty.”

Shepard shut her eyes.

Hannah paused for breath.  “But I’m happy for you.”

Her daughter jerked as though shot, her water-filled eyes flying wide and leaking down her face.  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

There was a hesitation about her mother now that was lacking throughout the discussion.  “You’ve become so closed-off, sweetheart.  Especially since Akuze- you don’t let people in.  You’d rather be the cold, distant commander, only ever thinking of the mission.  It’s easier and it hurts less.  I know.”  Hannah licked her lips, parsing her words slowly.  Carefully.  “I am happy that there is at least one person in this world you care for enough to forget the act.  Affection isn’t a vice.  It’s profoundly human.”

Shepard made no reply.  Hannah tried again.  “I am happy that you weren’t capable of leaving someone you love to die.” 

“I don’t love-“ she started automatically, but stopped, because what else was she supposed to call it?  What other reason could there be for acting so stupid and reckless?  The word simply contained so much gravity that she shied from it.

“He must be quite remarkable,” her mother ventured, tentative.  “Because you, my dear, are a handful and a half.”

She wiped at her nose.  “He told me to leave him there.  He thinks this is his fault.”

“Accepting blame isn’t- we’re not martyrs.  An officer owns their actions, every last decision and unintended consequence, and moves on wiser for it.  We don’t _wallow_.”  Hannah gave her a level look.  “You are a wallower.”

“You know, I remember this part of officer school,” she said, utterly sarcastic and not bothering to check it.  “We roleplayed it.  You’ve reached the point in the lecture where you’re supposed to start building me back up, and I have to say, I’m not impressed by your methods.”

“Oh, spare me your indignation.”  Hannah snorted.  “What I was going to tell you before is this.  Out in the Verge ten years ago, I was the sortie commander in the CIC for ship recon.  We were the first to arrive at the colony.  Protocol says you don’t send out your birds until after proper support is in place.  But batarian landing parties were everywhere.  Every moment we waited, colonists were paying with their lives.  We needed to know what was happening.  So I scrambled my planes.”

Shepard was beyond disinterested.  Her thoughts remained with her own mission, with Ash, with Kaidan, with the mess they made.  She grew up with war stories, and her mother’s were usually dry.  For the form of it, she asked, “What happened?” 

“As they went into the shadow of the planet, a Hegemony dreadnought dropped out of FTL, right on top of us.”  Hannah took a breath.  “A carrier isn’t designed for heavy combat.  We sit at the heart of a fleet, protected, and launch our birds.  Against those cannons- I didn’t have thirteen minutes for my pilots to floor it and come home.  My captain was against my plan from the start, and she knew we didn’t have the thirteen minutes either.  She ordered a full retreat to FTL and every one of my pilots died.  I listened to it happen.”

Her daughter blinked, completely taken aback.  That wasn’t a Captain Hannah story- not the likes of any she’d ever heard, anyway.  Words failed her.

“Let’s not pretend.  You wanted me to ream you out tonight.  You wanted someone to tell you that your judgment was as exactly as bad as you’re feeling.  You wanted to be justified in hating yourself.  I felt the same way.” 

She swallowed.  “Your point being…?”

“This is not the first time something like this has happened.  You are not special.”  Hannah gave her the oldest look she’d ever seen.  “Some things don’t get better.  Sometimes, we just move on.”


	49. The Cerberus Base

Nepheron.

Smoking caldera dotted the scoured surface, running together in sluggish orange streams of molten rock.  The enthusiastic volcanism expelled stew-like air from the bowels of the planet, choked with CO2 and other toxic gases, and drifted across the sky in rancid sulfurous clouds.  Shepard had seldom seen a less hospitable world.

“You gotta hand it to Cerberus,” Kaidan said, peering out the port.  “If you’re going to have a multi-million credit secret lab facility, it makes a hell of a lot more sense to put it somewhere nobody wants to visit.”

“Instead of, say, balmy beachfront property?” Shepard asked, dryly.

“Something like that.”  They crowded together, shoulder to shoulder.   _Normandy_ , the first and therefore crudest ship of its class, was light on observation ports.  Designing without holes punched in the hull was simpler.  Shepard was also given to understand, via Adams’ highly technical explanations, that discontinuities in the hull skin materials, like adding expanses of glass, interfered with the stealth capabilities.

Kaidan wasn’t dwelling on the practical merits.  “What they need to do on the next Normandy-class frigate is carve out a couple of big picture windows, really get a look at what’s out there.  It would brighten up these long intersystem hauls.”

He leaned forward, nose to glass, shifting awkwardly on his crutches.  The injury was still giving him a good bit of trouble.  She caught him wincing and rubbing at it when he thought nobody was looking, but he seemed determined to treat it as a minor inconvenience. 

Shepard still felt rotten from the bones out.  Her mother, however, was right about one thing.  All there was left was to keep going forward and do the job.  Cerberus was a loose end she intended to tie up.  After that, she had a decision to make regarding the Mu Relay.  Liara swore she had the destination nearly worked out.

Kaidan hadn’t pressed her on Ash.  She imagined he was still working through his own reaction.  His thoughts tended to run deep, and he had the rare ability to leave people alone when they didn’t want to talk, at least when her own melancholy wasn’t scaring the hell out of him.   Probably because he didn’t appreciate people picking at his battle scars any more than Shepard. 

“I’ve been reading those logs Tali pulled on Arcturus,” he said, changing the subject.  “You remember when we talked about how Conatix may have arranged drive detonations over our colonies?”

She grimaced.  “To create new biotic subjects?  Yes.”

“There’s some indication they might have contracted the work out to Cerberus.”  His gaze shifted from the port to her, with an expression of utter revulsion.  “And that’s not the half of it.  There’s stuff in there about human experimentation, AI research, assassination…”

“They’re scum.”  She turned away from the port, folded her arms and leaned against the bulkhead. 

“They claim they’re advancing humanity.  How do you get to a place where you think that harming and deceiving humans is the best way to achieve that goal?”

“I’ve been a defender of humanity for more than ten years,” Shepard said slowly.  “There’s a lot I’ve done that I’m not proud of, but I did it, because someone told me it was for the best.  Chain-of-command operates not only on discipline but on trust.”

“It’s not the same thing,” he insisted.  “The people who give those orders are answerable to Parliament, an elected body.”  


She rolled her eyes.  “I know you’re not that naïve.”

“I’m not saying the system is executed flawlessly.”  He shuffled, thinking.  “It’s about stewardship, not dogma- worrying about getting it right instead of _being_ right.  Building people up, not cutting them down.  We don’t always succeed but we try damn hard.”

Shepard opened her mouth to voice a counterargument, and then reconsidered.  There were good reasons why she followed distasteful orders- and why she expected those serving within her command to do the same.  But there was no avoiding the moral and ethical questions they raised.  They’d bothered her in a fundamental way, and the feeling never left.  A part of her had hoped, in the few moments she had time to reflect, that the spectre appointment might allow more personal discretion and less of that trust.

A muscle twitched in her cheek.  “So you say it’s about intent?”

“Intent, and methods.”  He looked over at her.  “We’re not like them.  We care about the people we’re trying to protect, and we don’t use them to further an agenda.  We’re better than that.”

Bakari interrupted them over the comm.  “Ma’am, we have a situation.  You’d better come up.”

“On my way.”  She glanced at Kaidan, a brief apology.  “Duty calls.”

“Give them hell down there.”  His expression hardened.  “They like shadows.  Drag these bastards into the light.”

Upstairs in the CIC, Bakari was hunched over his terminal with worry lines creasing his forehead.  Pressly had joined him; together, they gestured animatedly towards the screen, deep in discussion.

Shepard came up behind.  “What have we got, gentlemen?”

“Activity, ma’am.”  Bakari sent their keyhole images to the center island, greatly magnifying the view.  “I mean, a _lot_.  It’s like an anthill down there.”

Pressly folded his hands behind his back.  “They’re broadcasting a general alarm.”

Shepard didn’t believe in coincidences.  “IES?”

A crewman behind her, responsible for attending to the stealth system, called out a response.  “Online and stable, ma’am.  We’re running silent.”

“They must have seen something.”  She leaned into the display.  “Did we make any transmissions?  Even something as simple as using the comm buoy system to pin down our bearing?”

“Negative, ma’am.”  Pressly, as navigator, was as certain as a man could be.  “On recon we always take a bearing using stars.  That’s been true even before all these fancy stealth technologies.”

She shook her head, stubborn.  He raised an eyebrow.  “Sometimes we do get lucky, Commander.”

There was that word again.  But she pursed her lips and carried on.  “We’ll go in as planned.  Maybe the chaos will work to our advantage.”  _For once._

“Very good.”  Pressly paused.  “You still intend to take Vakarian and Urdnot Wrex?”

A sigh escaped her.  “I know you have doubts about their stability, but what you want on a run like this is muscle.  We’re going to blow through every last secret lab this place has to offer, and torch it on the way out.”

“Wouldn’t you need an electronics expert for collecting intel?”

“I’ll be linked in with the ship if we can’t just rip out a drive,” she replied easily.  Her eyes slid to him.  “What’s really on your mind?”

“We have no authority to be here, ma’am.  Admiral Hackett expressly discouraged-“

“They’re mixed up with Saren somehow, and I don’t like that.  There’s a mystery here, it’s gone rotten, and I don’t like that either.” 

“Alliance Command-“

Shepard turned to face him fully.  “I respect Command, but I have a mandate to prevent this kind of shit from stinking up our galaxy.  Hackett’s reticence won’t stop me.  Command shouldn’t have given the Council a push on the spectre thing if they didn’t want me to use it.”

Privately, she thought, _Whatever is going on with Cerberus, Command is in it up to their eyeballs.  I won’t help them cover it up.  Not anymore._

“As you say, ma’am.”  Polite way of disagreeing.  Pressly cleared his throat.  “We’ll hold above the Cerberus base.  Any support you need, we’re ready.”

“Good.”  She pushed back from the rail.  “I need to suit up.  The deck is yours.”

/\/\/\/\/\

The Mako jounced and rumbled towards the Cerberus outpost.  Wrex crammed himself in the front beside Shepard, the top of his hump banging against the roof, while Garrus hunkered down over the gun sights in back. 

Turians didn’t exactly bruise, possessing thick, metal-infused hides, but there was a certain dullness of color about his jaw the shape of her fist.  Human flesh was more delicate.  Her nose was unbroken, but the skin was mottled brownish black, scarcely a sight for sore eyes.  It remained tender to the touch- not unlike her ribs, which protested with every bounce.  More of Chakwas’ injected bone therapy glued her together well enough for combat duty but she couldn’t call it a pleasant ride.

As they approached, the blaring of the audible alarm and the sound of many people racing about grew louder, even through the thick tank walls.  Wrex rolled his shoulder.  “Someone sure stomped all over this nest.”

“What?” Shepard asked.

“You know.  Got everyone real mad.”

“We call that kicking an anthill.”  She kept her attention on her driving.  This was not the time to be surprised by a defense turret or a sharpshooter guard.

He snorted.  “And what we’re doing?”

“Pouring boiling water on the anthill.”

From the rear, Garrus muttered something.  Shepard raised her eyebrows and called over the noise of the tank.  “What’s that?”

“I said, you’ve been spoiling for a fight since we left Virmire.  It’s been like watching a caged varren sniffing at the air.”

She remembered whirling on him and landing the punch.  She’d wanted to keep going.  Only the coldness of his response had stopped her.  “Yeah.  Sorry about that.”

“I’m just glad you found something real to fix your sights on.”

“Speaking of which,” Wrex said, nodding ahead.  “That looks like the front door.”

The base was an assemblage of several buildings, buried in the ground for protection, only their uppermost level poking above the earth.  Surrounding it was a tall chain-link fence.  High security it was not, but this wasn’t a world that got any non-terrorist traffic.  Shepard was so accustomed to the _Normandy’s_ stealth capability that she forgot every other ship would be immediately detected by their scanners and dealt with via AA strike.  Shepard could see the tower from the tank.

The Mako, however, was not a stealth vehicle.  The drop was close to the base and would stand out like a bullet if anyone happened to be watching.  Looking through the fence, Shepard doubted manning the ladar was on anyone’s mind.  Cerberus personnel, some dressed for combat and toting weapons, scrambled over the compound, running to and fro in what Shepard would call, professionally speaking, a state of panic.  Smoke billowed from one of the pillbox habs.

“Explosion?” Garrus hazarded.  “Could have been an accident.”

“Who knows?”  Shepard pressed the accelerator.  “I’m not complaining.”

“What’s the plan?”

She smiled, gaining speed.  “Garrus, blow those gates off the hinges.”

“With pleasure.”  The main cannon sounded once.  They all watched the plasma shell arc towards the sky, and crash against the gates in a tangle of screaming wire.  Wrex let out a satisfied chuckle.

A pair of unfortunate Cerberus soldiers paused to gape at the wreckage, mouths hanging open behind their faceplates, before the apparition of a fully armored tanking bearing down on their position at appreciable speed toggled their survival instinct.  They dove out of the Mako’s path.  One made it.

Shepard tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and kept going.

Strangely, hardly anyone else took note of the Mako as they blazed through the center of the compound.  They were too concerned with what looked like an evacuation, with shuttles lifting off at regular intervals.  Smoke clogged the air.

They rolled to a stop before one of the non-inflamed structures, secured their helmets, and spilled onto the earth.  The mixed-species team stood out in their well-worn kit, an unnatural spot of black, maroon, and C-Sec blue among the sea of dirty white Cerberus armor.  The hatch was stamped with their insignia, that odd, angular orange “O” that seemed more style than organizational relevance.  Shepard supposed it could be one of the dog’s eyes, perhaps, but that was stretching things.  She expected it was more about creating an impression than symbolizing the cause.

The hatch was locked.  Wrex grunted his irritation, worked his fingers into the crack, and pried open a whole panel by pure application of brute strength.  It was an impressive display.  For a half second, the ghost of their near-brawl on Virmire passed over Shepard, and she shuddered involuntarily.  At the time, the situation seemed tense, though not at all frightening; she could never seem to remember in the moment that going hand-to-hand (or head-to-head) with a krogan was above all a short-lived experience.

They stepped through the hole and into a darkened hallway.  Red alarm lights strobed against the walls.  Cerberus had top-rate equipment, with mass effect fields installed across the hatches, and there was no corresponding rush of air through Wrex’s aperture.  Shepard removed her headgear to increase her hearing.  Further down the corridor, people were shouting.

She drew her gun.  “First, we figure out what’s going on.”

“Security system should be able to tell us,” Garrus said, likewise arming himself.

Wrex was already sighting down the hall.  “Anyone smell that?”

Shepard sniffed at the air, and wrinkled her nose.  “Formaldehyde?”

“Dunno.”  Wrex’s nostrils twitched in agitation.  “It’s chemical.”

Human feet had difficulty kicking in a metal hatch, and so Shepard rather anticlimactically swiped the touchpad on the first door they came to.  Not to be outdone, however, she took a heavy stride into the room and let off a burst of fire that was sure to startle anyone who happened to be inside.  Nothing came of it.  The room was empty.

It was clearly a laboratory.  That, she remembered later, was self-evident.  She just didn’t think it was normal that a modern lab have quite so many jars full of green wobbly things, and of course there were the several large tanks clustered together in the middle, tubes running out of them like vines.  It felt more like bad staging for a horror movie than a place of scientific research.

Garrus seemed to concur.  “What the hell is this place?”

Shepard prodded one of the tanks.  They were fully large enough to hold a member of any species short of an elcor or a krogan.  The one closest at hand was unlatched.  “Give me a hand.”

Together, they lifted the lid.  She waved the cold fog out of the way, trying to get a better look at the contents.  Her eyes widened.  “I’ll be damned.”

Wrex and Garrus leaned over the tank.  Wrex poked at the figure within.  “I don’t get it.  Why keep dead humans lying around?”

Staring up at them were the cold-preserved mortal remains of Rear Admiral Kahoku. 

“He was looking into Cerberus,” Shepard explained, scrutinizing the body but growing only more confused.  “Heavy stuff.  He was going to the Shadow Broker for information.”

“Cerberus killed his men, right?” Garrus asked, straining his memory.

“Set a thresher maw on them.”  _Jungle, so humid the air was a solid wall.  Screams and rumbles and hot stinking breath in the dark.  Tents flapping up through the air like butterflies as the maws erupted from the earth…_

With a wrenching effort, Shepard put the memory from her mind.  “Hackett’ll be glad to know what became of him, at any rate.  His command’s in chaos.”

“Shepard,” Wrex said, levering the lid off another refrigerated coffin and peering inside.  “You’re gonna want to see this.”

She looked.  Her jaw tightened.  “That’s a teenager.”

The boy’s body bore no sign of trauma.  His expression approached peaceful- about the same as the young man she left aboard the derelict ship- and he was shaved bald, with a fresh implant scar still livid on his scalp.  “That girl, the hijacker, she told me they were recruiting kids.  Damn it.”

Garrus waved his omni-tool over the refrigerator’s control panel, collecting information.  “Cerberus is going to have a long list of questions to answer.”

They left the room, guns at the ready.  The scent of smoke pervaded the hall.  Wrex’s nostrils twitched.  “This building wasn’t on fire when we entered.”

“They must be connected.  Underground tunnels, maybe,” Shepard reasoned.

As they stalked along the hall, a hatch opened ahead, and two Cerberus security staff emerged.  Their eyes widened as they caught sight of Shepard’s team.

Her finger pulled down on the trigger before the first man’s hand even touched his sidearm.  Wrex let out a battle cry, shoving her against the wall as he barreled past.  She never stopped firing.

The man’s shield failed as he drew his gun.  She adjusted her aim by fractions and sent two rounds through his faceplate.  He dropped like a stone.  A second later, Wrex released his partner and allowed him to fall to the ground, his body bent at an unnatural and rather fatal angle.  Shepard felt something she labeled satisfaction, for the sake of conscience, but was really closer to elation.  Cerberus had dogged them across half the Traverse, meddling, hiding, doing as they pleased from the darkness.  And Garrus was right, he was very right- she wanted to tear something apart, and anything even a little deserving would do.

Garrus, who had been at the rear, glanced from one corpse to the other.  “Should we backtrack to wherever they came from?”

“Not sure it gains us anything.”  She nodded towards the end of the corridor.  “Look sharp.  We’ve got another lab up ahead.”

The hallway dead-ended in a half-open hatch.  Beyond it was a large open room equipped with cameras and other detection equipment.  A prison made of mass effect fields occupied the center, and inside that were creatures last seen melting into a pool of acid on Peak 15.

Wrex’s shotgun was leveled almost before Shepard realized what she was seeing.  “Rachni!”

He spat.  Garrus was astounded.  “How did they get rachni here?”  


“They must have gotten samples from Noveria.”  As she watched, one of the malformed bugs whipped its antennae and flung itself full-body at the prison wall.  A shower of blue waves cascaded from the impact.  They looked about as maddened as the ones that attacked them on the tram.

Wrex answered with a single blast that ricocheted off the field and burrowed into the ceiling.  “How many of these bastards are left?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Garrus said.  “Without a queen, they can’t reproduce.”

Wrex snorted, as if he didn’t quite buy it.  “They could clone them.”

Shepard eyed him.  “It’s possible, but it’s an insanely expensive way of breeding an army.”

He looked away, mumbling something caustic under his breath.  A bit of intuition snicked into place.  “That’s what Saren was doing, isn’t it?  With the krogan?”

“It’s not a real cure,” he rumbled.  “It’s a stop gap.”

“Most things are,” Shepard said.

Garrus tapped at the computer.  “Looks like they were trying to engineer a fertile female by mutating rachni DNA.”

“Please tell me-“

“They didn’t succeed.”  His hand hovered over a control.  “There’s a kill switch for the experiment, I suppose in case any of them got loose.”

Shepard turned back towards the perimeter, watching for any unwelcome guests.  “Do it.”

The rachni twitched and died within their cage.  Shepard shot up the terminal for good measure, though she doubted it was the only place the data was stored.  Garrus pointed.  “Looks like there’s a way out, back there.”

They encountered a trio of fleeing staff in the next hall, dressed in civilian spacesuits- no armor, just elastic webbing and breathing apparatus, Cerberus logo emblazoned on the chest.  Shepard gunned them down without hesitation.  This lab was trying to replicate Saren’s work.  They’d learned something- something Kahoku paid for with his life, to say nothing of the younger victims.  If these scientists had given that secret to the Alliance instead of holding it for their own power play, maybe they wouldn’t have wandered blindly into Saren’s laboratory.  Maybe Ash would still be alive.  Nobody here was innocent.

Cerberus was out here playing silly games while the geth ravaged the Traverse.  They didn’t deserve sympathy- or mercy.

The smoke was growing thicker.  Garrus repositioned his helmet and locked the neck ring into place.  “Are you sure this is wise?”

Shepard peered forward through the haze.  “There’s a secret here.  We’re not leaving until we find it.”

Behind her, Garrus and Wrex exchanged a meaningful look.  She pressed ahead into the next lab.

It was one horror show after another.  They located the samples from Feros- thorian creepers, incubating- as well as piles of geth technology, hooked up to banks of servers glittering with alert lights.  Shepard paused before a terminal.  “They were researching the nature of geth AI.”

Wrex eyed a geth chassis stashed in a corner.  Its flashlight swept back and forth monotonously.  No quality of the light was different, but there was a vacancy in the gesture indicating no intelligence lurked within that slender head.  The effect was unnerving. 

Garrus turned away from the almost macabre sight, and glanced over Shepard’s shoulder.  “It’s just what Tali’s been telling us all along.  Geth are a bunch of programs, networked together, and they get smarter the more of them they’ve got clustered up.”

“And you don’t find that remarkable?”  She fished out an OSD and shoved it into a port, initiating a download.

“All AI are a sum of discrete programs and subroutines,” he said impatiently.  “There’s a ton of smoke pouring in up ahead.  We might want to backtrack.”

Shepard ignored this advice entirely.  “There’s a security panel over there.  Do we have any idea what caused the fire?”

He sighed, exasperated, but walked over to a systems status pad and raised his omni-tool.  “There was some kind of explosion in Building 3.”

Wrex ambled over.  “What’s in Building 3?”

His blue eyes narrowed as he scrolled through the directory.  “Test subject housing.”

“Sounds like someone got tired of being used as a lab rat.”  Shepard finished her download.  “Still think there’s nothing going on here?”

“I’m tapping into their comm channels.” 

“Patch me in.”  She put her fingers to her ear, activating her comm, and tried to ignore the urge to cough.  The smoke by now was a constant haze in the air.  But she hated the damn helmet.  The new design introduced in ’81 cut off peripheral vision like nothing else.

“-eal off three,” a voice said, cluttered with static.  “That’s an order.”

Apparently, Cerberus leadership wasn’t quite as adept at being obeyed as Shepard.  A second operative, fraught with uncertainty, made objection.  “Sir, he’s holed up in there with half the scientists!  Without them, our work-“

“I don’t care.  If we don’t get the fire contained, we’ll lose the base!”

“But sir-“

“Get those hatches closed!” he roared, overriding the underling.  “Toombs is their pet, let them burn with him.”

Wrex looked up from the geth shell.  “We need to go- before they put the place in lock-down.”

Shepard was rooted to the spot.  She didn’t really believe in coincidence, but it wasn’t as though Toombs was a common surname.  _Maybe it’s not human.  It’s just a one-syllable sound.  Probably shows up in a lot of languages.  You don’t KNOW it’s his name._

Rationality had no place here.  She knew, by the twisting of her gut.

Shepard tucked her rifle to her chest and hurried down the hall. 

Resistance grew heavier as they neared Building 3.  The squad left a trail of bodies behind them, paramilitary and scientist alike.  The temperature rose to an uncomfortable level, causing sweat to bead on her forehead and roll down into her eyes.  She swiped at the damp scraggles of hair before jamming on her helmet, acquiescing to the fire at last.  “How close are we?”

“Nearly there.”  Garrus paused at one of the status pads, which continued to wail an alarm.  “Damn it.  They finally got these hatches sealed up.”

Shepard crowded behind him.  “How do we get them open?”

The glance he gave her was barely surprised.  “You’re the only person I’ve met who would run into a fire for no better reason than somebody trying to stop her.”

She was far too testy for his wisecracks.  “Don’t like it, feel free to stand guard here.”

“I didn’t say that.”  His fingers tapped at the pad.  “They’re safety protocols.  I shouldn’t need security authorization to override- but we’ll have to find the door in the system, first.”

“Here.”  She pressed a helpful button displayed in the lower corner of the pad, bringing up a map of the compound.  The sealed hatches blinked red.  “If we cut through this lab, we should be there in no time.”

They took off down a side corridor, which led directly to the lab.  Garrus barreled inside and stopped dead in his tracks.  Shepard nearly collided with him.  “What the hell-“

“Commander,” he began, and then words seemed to fail him.  He pointed.

Shepard and Wrex followed his direction.  The krogan let out a sound of shocked disbelief.  Shepard licked her lips.  

“What,” she said slowly, “Are a half-dozen husks doing in a Cerberus lab?”

The mindless horrors, limned with familiar blue light, their mouths gaping and their eyes ablaze, shuffled in a mass effect prison surrounded by cameras and other sensors.  Beside the prison, in a shadowed corner, three dragon’s teeth brooded.  They bore obvious signs of use- battlefield spoils, or so Shepard fervently hoped.  The idea of anyone human using the things left her ill.

“You can’t tell me the Alliance isn’t studying husk remains,” Garrus said, though weakly, as if from some distance.

“Husks turn to ash,” Shepard said.  “Cerberus captured these ones ali- animated.”

Wrex shifted his weight.  “Alliance is probably doing the same.”

“If they are, I don’t want to know.”  Shepard shook her head and walked to the prison control terminal.  “These were human beings.”

“What are you doing?” Garrus asked.

“Taking down the mass effect field.  Ending this.”  Disgust rose off her like a mist.  “Be ready.”

It didn’t take long.  They each sighted, and fired as soon as the shield vanished.  Shepard reckoned she got three, though it was hard to say.  Six small piles of ash drifted slowly to the ground. 

She straightened and turned towards the exit.  “When we leave, _Normandy_ is going to wipe this base off the face of the planet.”

Wrex and Garrus exchanged a look that said it all- that there was no arguing with her or predicting what she’d do when she got like this, and she’d been like this more or less continuously since Ash died.

 

“You don’t think that’s a bit of an overreaction?” Garrus hazarded, as they approached their destination.

“No, I don’t.”  Sealing the hatches apparently consisted of dropping a blast door of sorts, three inches of solid nonflammable composite.  At least it cut off the smoke somewhat and made it easier to see.  She began working the controls.

“They’ll know we breached the firebreak as soon as you unlock that thing,” Wrex rumbled.

“Like Garrus said, who runs toward a fire?”  The barricade slid sideways.  The heat slammed against them like a solid wall.  Shepard stepped into the doorway, and after a moment’s searching, found the hatch’s motor and fired into it until it exploded. 

She caught their expressions and shrugged.  “Just making sure we have a way out.”

The fire was much worse inside the perimeter.  It spread through the walls- through the wiring and insulation, places where there was fuel.  Smoke poured from the cracks and the ventilation, and in some places, flame-licked holes were appearing in the plastic veneers. 

“I don’t like this, Shepard,” Garrus said.  “When this place comes down, it’s going to happen fast.”

“I’ve been in burning buildings before.  We’ll be ok.”  She was busy searching for a good location to hold hostages.

“Suddenly you’re an expert on structural engineering?”  But he continued to follow her deeper into the hab.  It was hard to say whether he was more worried about the fire, or her state of mind. 

“Hear that?”  Wrex jerked his head.  “People, up ahead.  They sound worried.”

“They should be.”  Shepard approached the hatch.  Behind it were the answers to questions she hadn’t even known enough to ask.  Was Toombs it?  Was that what Hackett didn’t want her to discover- that he’d survived, that he was held here?  She took a breath, and swiped the interface.  The hatch slid aside.

The room was small, and hot.  A group of Cerberus personnel in sweaty lab tunics clustered in a corner, each individual trying vainly to stand at the back.  This created quite a tight knot of shuffling people.  Shepard barely gave them a glance- they were cowards, to the last.  At the forefront, a scientist she recognized as Dr. Cynthia Wayne stood with her hands raised tremulously in the air.

Across from her, a young man in soot-streaked coveralls had a Cerberus pistol aimed squarely between her eyes.

He was breathing heavily and his face was ragged with several days’ stubble.  From the look of it, he hadn’t seen a bath in weeks.  His eyes shifted to the squad as they entered, piercing green, and his mouth dropped open.  “L.T.?”

“Corporal,” she just barely managed, through a mouth gone complete dry.  She raised the visor of her helmet, the better to speak, and gagged on the acrid smoke.

Wrex gestured with his shotgun.  “Who the hell is this?”

“And why does he think you’re a lieutenant?”  Garrus kept his aim on the scientists.

“Because the last time we saw each other, I was a second lieutenant.”  She remembered it well.  The commander in charge believed firmly in delegation.  As his second, Shepard had spent the whole mission running her ass off organizing everything.  She couldn’t take her eyes off the man.  Her voice was barely audible above the crackling of the fire in the walls.  “You’ve been here all this time?”

“Yes, ma’am.”  The words were torn from his throat, tattered, tortured.  “They brought me, ma’am.  Cerberus.  You don’t know.”

“I saw you pulled under.  But I went back.  I checked.”  It filled her mind- the silence of the camp, the muddy troughs where the maws scoured the ground, the broken tents and transports and, oh god, the bodies, everywhere… she’d examined every single one, as if by sheer force of hope she could animate another survivor, someone to share the burden of what happened. 

Her gaze focused again on Toombs.  _This is what hell feels like._   “I didn’t see anybody.  If I’d known- if I’d seen you- you know I would have taken you with me.”

His lips were pressed together so firmly they trembled, as if this was the one last thread of sanity holding him together.  “I know that, ma’am.  You’d never leave a man behind.”

Garrus glanced between them.  “Someone want to explain what the hell is going on here?”

“Too much talking.”  Wrex grimaced, eyeing the smoke.

Shepard took a breath.  “Garrus, Wrex- this is Corporal Randy Toombs, an N4 under my command on Akuze.”

In the background, Dr. Wayne’s face grew several shades paler.  Garrus shook his head.  “That’s not possible.  Is it?”

Toombs shook his head, as though confused.  “Why are you here, L.T., if you didn’t know?”

“I was tracking her.”  Shepard jerked her head towards Wayne.  “I hoped she’d lead me to Saren.”

His expression was blank.  “Who’s Saren?  And since when do turians and krogan serve in the Alliance?”

“We don’t,” Garrus explained.  “Shepard’s a spectre.  Requires some… specialized help.”

He tried to wrap his head around that.  “How long have I been here?”

“Six years,” said Shepard quietly.

He stumbled back a step, his free hand going to his forehead.  Wayne noticed his distraction and eyed the door.

Wrex gestured pointedly with his shotgun.  “Go on.  Try it.”

His grin was a horrible sight to behold.  Wayne didn’t have the stomach.  She raised her nose in the air, primly, and looked towards Shepard instead.  “I’m afraid the corporal’s mind is somewhat unsteady, the poor man.  He needs help.”

“Shut up!”  Toombs snapped back to the present, swinging the pistol around.  His finger shuddered around the trigger, not quite pulling it.

“Whoa,” Shepard said, keeping her gun on Wayne and stretching her hand towards Toombs, pacifying.  “Easy, Corporal, easy.”

“ _You don’t know what they did._ ”  Sweat was pouring down his face.  His hand shook.  “It was them, ma’am.  They set us up.  They called those maws to our camp.  Fifty lives.  Just another experiment.”

A black hole opened in her world.

There was a low, animal sound, somewhere between a growl and a snarl.  Shepard hardly realized it came from her own mouth.  She advanced on the terrified Wayne.

Garrus seized her by the shoulders.  “Shepard, think!”

“Anderson told me there was a black ops lab that went rogue!”  She didn’t know, in that moment, which was worse- Wayne’s actions or Anderson’s obvious betrayal, withholding such information.  “He told me!  She was their connection to field ops.  Damn it!”

And then there was the following thought, even darker.  _They were an Alliance lab when it happened.  Had to be.  They did this under Alliance watch.  Hackett’s watch?  And afterwards, Wayne was transferred.  Not discharged.  Transferred.  To work with children, of all things._

“You really didn’t know.”  Toombs closed his eyes, profoundly relieved.  “I thought- you can’t trust anyone in here.  They came around the camp after you’d gone.  I was unconscious.  They were delighted one of their subjects survived, because they could run _tests_.”

He spat the word the way other people spoke of rape, or murder. 

“What did they do to you, Randy?” Shepard asked, deadly calm.

Wayne’s eyes blazed with cold fire.  “He doesn’t have any proof.  The testimony of a delusional man would never stand up in Alliance court.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re not in a courtroom,” she hissed.  She could _see_ the bullet going through Wayne’s forehead, through the skin and bone and brain.  All she had to do was shoot.

Toombs’ hand steadied.  “They deserve to die.  All of them.  For you.”  His gaze fixed on Wayne.  “For me.  For everyone who didn’t make it out.  Are you with me?”

Her eyes narrowed.  Something that was and wasn’t her, from the darkest depths of her soul, formed a plan.  “It should be me that does it.”

Toombs went rigid with rage.  “I’m the one you left!  I’m the one they tortured!”

“Corporal, if you kill her, you’re a criminal.  But I’m a spectre.  Nobody will question me.”  Her eyes shift back to Wayne.  “Nobody will miss her.”

Wayne was now white as a sheet.  She raised her hands, pleading.  “You can’t kill me.  Cerberus will-”

 

“What?” Wrex asked.  “Chase down the first _human_ spectre to avenge an operative who can’t stop screwing up?”

Wayne went silent.  Smoke gathered in the stifling air.  It was becoming hard to breathe.

Garrus still hadn’t let Shepard go.  “Think about what she knows.  What they know.  Is this the smart way?”

Her mind wasn’t in the room.  Years of nightmares, survivor’s guilt, the flashbacks and the lies and above all the fear that somebody would find out and take her whole life away from her was holding the gun and doing the thinking. 

There was another gun in her hands, too, the ghost of the one that shot Balak, and others before him.  In a way it had all started here, with Akuze, with being pushed further than any human was meant to go.  There was no coming back from that.  It was a joke that anyone could.  And now, with all the culprits gathered in one place, was a chance to finish the demons at last.

She stared at Wayne.  The shorter woman quavered under her glare.

And then there was a voice, half-remembered, barely a whisper.

_We’re better than this_ , Kaidan said.  _Drag them into the light._

Garrus’ hand was on her shoulder.  She looked into his face, abruptly recalling hours of patient arguments, about doing things the right way, not just the quick way.  Things she claimed to believe, even if belief was sometimes more an aspiration than a conviction.  Things she wanted to believe.

_I am better than this._ She fought down the rage, eased her finger off the trigger. _It doesn’t have to end this way, not this time.  Not again._

“You’re better than this, Toombs,” she said aloud.  “You’re not like them.”

“Don’t tell me who I am.”  His fury was incandescent.  He was out of control.  “I was tortured for years.  They cut me up.  They put maw acid in my muscles, more and more, trying to find the limit-“

“We swore an oath when we put on this uniform.”  Her hands were white around her gun.  She was shaking.  “I can arrest them.  They can be tried on Arcturus.  Everyone will know what they did.”

“Weren’t you listening?  I know Cerberus now.  They’ll never allow their operation become public.”  Toombs was pleading.  “This is the only way, ma’am, the only way.”

“This is not the only way.”  She jerked her head to Garrus, who stepped up, pointing his rifle at Wayne.  Shepard touched Toombs, gingerly.  “Would our unit want revenge, or justice?  Would they want you to become a murderer for filth like her?”

His attention was divided between Shepard and the scientist.  She applied a little more persuasion.  “I’ve been where you’re thinking of going.  It’s not worth it.  They cost you six years.  Don’t throw away the rest.”

There was an almost infinite pause.  The room held its breath.

“I’m no murderer.”  He shuddered, standing down.  “They couldn’t make me one.  This is… this is better.  Maybe the screaming will stop now.  I don’t know.”

_I do.  It doesn’t._ She gave Wayne a long, lingering look.  “Maybe, one day, it’ll stop for both of us.”

She pulled Toombs back a bit, away from the scientists, and gave Garrus a nod.  “Bind up their hands.”

“If we’re done with the family reunion,” growled Wrex, whose attention over the last several minutes was somewhat broader, “Can we maybe get out of the burning building?  This ceiling is about to come down.”

Indeed, bubbles were appearing in the thick plastic panels.  As they watched, ash began to fall like snow.  She gave them a glance and prodded Toombs towards the hatch.  “Come in, _Normandy_.”

Bakari answered.  “Reading you loud and clear, Commander.” 

“Put this on broadcast.”  She paused a moment, but didn’t stop moving.  “Pressly, I am ordering _Normandy_ to come in low over the base and make an announcement as follows…”

By the time they emerged onto the comparatively cool and welcoming surface, her ship was poised above the facility with every gun aimed squarely at the main drag.  The lone anti-aircraft artillery unit was a smoldering ruin.  In the shadow of the ship knelt the remaining Cerberus personnel, ranging from sullen to shitting their pants, hands laced over the backs of their skulls.  Despite everything, a fleeting satisfaction flared in her gut.  Sometimes, even harebrained, cowboy plans worked.  It turned out few to none of the staff was loyal enough to their employer to risk an Alliance frigate turning their lab- and them- into a smoking hole in the ground.

Tersely, she directed the pack of scientists to join their coworkers.  Wrex and Garrus accompanied them to be certain they complied.  Toombs walked a good ten or twenty paces off and stood staring at the sky.  His face was wet beneath the visor of the borrowed Cerberus helmet.

As soon as her squad was out of sight, Shepard slid down the wall, shaking head to foot.  Her hands ran over the helmet guarding her haggard face.  Every cell in her body was still screaming, begging, for her to charge ahead and give Wayne and the rest what they deserved.  This was beyond fury or any other evolved emotion.  Destroying them felt necessary to her survival, an instinct held in check by only the most tenuous of wills.  The stench of mud was in her nose.  Nepheron overlaid by pictures that never went away.

She could feel her gun in her hand.  Her boots marking off her steps crisply, walking down those rows of people, laying the muzzle against each of their heads-

_You didn’t do it.  You’re not going to do it.  It’s over.  It’s finally over._   She kept repeating it, like a mantra, until her heart stopped racing and her vision stopped flashing white every time she thought of Wayne’s face.  Until her fingers stopped twitching for her pistol every time she glimpsed that ragged line of Cerberus hardsuits.

Eventually, the Mako rolled up beside her.  Garrus opened the door.  She collected Toombs and got in, Garrus automatically shifting over to allow her to drive.  She put it into gear and swung back towards the ship.

After a few minutes, Garrus volunteered, “Pressly’s alerted the Fifth Fleet.  They’re on their way to take control of the facility.”

“How long?”

“Thirty-two hours.  They had a patrol in the area.”

“I bet they did,” she said dully.  _They didn’t tell me.  This is what they didn’t want me to know.  They didn’t think they could keep me if I knew._  

“Alenko’s ordered the marines to the surface to keep the peace, but so far, the prisoners don’t seem too restless.  More like resigned.”  His eyes slid to her.  “I expected you to kill them after you brought them out here for questioning.”

“I thought about it.” 

“Why didn’t you?”  Garrus seemed confused.  “They earned it.  And you know Hackett’s going to come down on you like a ton of bricks for running this op.  Cleaner to just bury it.”

The raging beast within her mind howled, jerking at its chain.  Just outside the port, rows of Cerberus prisoners sat, waiting, at their mercy.  _There’s still time to make this right.  All it takes is a few bullets._

But then she’d have to explain it, again, and not just to the Alliance.  And she didn’t know how many times she could explain something like that to him before he’d stop giving her the benefit of the doubt.  The beast lied.  It always cost more than bullets.

She took a deep, shaky breath and gently steered them through the gate.  “Because Kaidan thinks I’m a good person.  Maybe if I lie to myself enough times, one day it’ll be true.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Alenko found her at last in the drop chute, sucking at a cigarette like some people looked for answers at the bottom of a bottle.  She turned slightly as the aft hatch opened, only to turn back to the port when she saw who it was.

“There’s no sensors down here,” she said by way of explanation, taking another drag.  “All the crap from atmospheric entry when we drop the Mako would fry them right out.  It’d be like installing smoke detectors in hell.”

“Doesn’t make it legal,” he pointed out, mildly.  Smoking used up oxygen and clogged ventilation, over time.

She sighed and stubbed it out on the deck.  “You’d think I’d know better than to buy a whole pack when I can’t finish it in port.  They’re too expensive to toss when we ship out.  And if I have a pack on me, they’re going to get smoked.”

Alenko eased himself to the floor beside her, wincing once or twice as he arranged his injured leg, and noted the two butts already discarded.  “I just got back from deploying the marines to the surface.  The Cerberus personnel aren’t happy, but we should be able to keep order until that patrol gets here.” 

She watched the stars move slowly across the glass of that tiny round port for nearly a minute before breaking the silence.  “What do you want?”

“Not anything I’m likely to get.”

“I’m not in the mood for games.”  She picked up the pack, tapped out a fresh cigarette, and lit it with a deep inhalation.  She offered it to him, and when he shook his head, shrugged and went back to staring into the void.

“Nice work today,” Alenko ventured at last, changing tact.  “It was good to have a mission end well for a change.”

She snorted her derision and took another drag.  “I still want to kill them.”

“But you didn’t, and you won’t,” he emphasized.  “That’s the important part.”

“Why?” she asked, frankly, echoing Garrus.  “They deserve it.”

He didn’t answer immediately.  She shifted in the silence, feeling his eyes on her.  “They murdered- _destroyed_ fifty people for no better reason than to find out what would happen.  They did that on my watch and I was too stupid to see it.”

“Forty-nine.”  He draped his arms over his knee.  “It’s not too often we get to see that number go up.  It’s worth celebrating.”

“Do you think Toombs is celebrating?” she spat.

“What they did to your platoon, what they did to Toombs after- none of that is your fault.  It’s theirs.  Cerberus.  They made a choice.  You responded.”

The cigarette dangled from her fingers.  She stared at the cross-hatched metal floor.

Alenko ventured a bit further into the psychological dark.  “What happened with Ash-“

“Don’t say it.  Don’t you dare say it.”  Her face was ravaged by anger and remorse, her very expression a weapon.  “Do you think for a single moment that I would have let her get away with disobeying a direct order like that?  That’s amateur crap.  She knew better.”

“And I told you to leave me there, with the bomb,” he replied without so much as flinching.  “It was the best tactical decision.  You knew better, too.”

“And that was my choice.”  Shepard was in agony, her throat one long rusty ache.  “My decision.  My responsibility.  I left her there.  And don’t say it wasn’t, or I did my best, because we both know if I’d put you with the marines like you wanted and Ash was with that bomb, I wouldn’t have gone back.”

There was a lot he could have said.  It did feel as though Ash died because of them, what they were to each other.  That was why her death felt so sour and wrong.  The guilt was a hammer, pounding away every idle moment, never giving him a single peaceful thought.  More than once in the last few days, Alenko wondered what he should have done differently, and cursed himself for reporting the geth scouts at all- and then cursed himself for being grateful to still be alive, and grateful Nathaly was as well.

Instead of saying any of that, he tentatively curled his fingers around her hand.  “I couldn’t have left you behind either.”

She tightened the grip and did not let go.  With her free hand, she took another drag and blew smoke out into the air.

“It’s just such a damn waste,” she mumbled.

“You saved Toombs,” he said, squeezing back.  “And Liara.  And a lot of people on Feros.”  He nudged her.  “You saved me.  I’m no Ash, but I hope I’m not nothing.”

She chuckled despite herself, as he hoped she would, a small but appreciable easing of the tension.  A measure of composure returned, transparent as bravado, but she was unable to act otherwise.  Acting, at this point, was as instinctual as survival.  She tilted her head and faced him.  “It was nice of you to come check up on me, but I don’t need looking after.  I’m fine.  Really.  It’s just been a rough week.  First Ash, now this…”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Alenko said.  “But you’re more in need of someone to look after you than any person I’ve ever met.”

She bristled.  He surged ahead, before she could launch into an offended tirade.  “I don’t mean in terms of survival, or whatever else you’re thinking.  I don’t mean you need someone to tie your shoes.  It’s not the same thing.” 

Her eyes narrowed.  “Then what do you mean?”

“Strength isn’t a personality trait.  It’s a resource,” he said, as gently as he could.  “And you have a hell of a lot of it.  But everyone, at some point, needs someplace safe and comfortable to set down the things they’re carrying and recuperate, or they’ll be crushed under the load.  You never make camp.  You don’t think there is any safety to be had anywhere.”

“Why should I?” she shot back.  “Every time I set things down, other people start to paw over them like they have the right, and then in the name of concern they threaten to take away my job, or abandon me because it’s too hard, or tell me that I’m- not human because nobody is like this.  Lowering your guard just gives people a chance to take a swing.”

“I never told anyone that story about Rahna before I told it to you.  I’d been carrying it with me a long time.  I always thought whoever heard it would judge me the way I’d judged myself, but you didn’t, and I think it’s because you understood how badly somebody could need that.”  Alenko looked at her.  “Why is it so hard for you to let me return the favor?  I want to be that resting place for you.”

“You shouldn’t.”  She looked towards the port and swallowed.  Stubbed out the spent cigarette and left it smoldering upright on the deck.  “I left my post.  I left her, because I felt something for you I couldn’t control.  She died on my watch and I wasn’t even there.”

He put his arm around her waist, trying for comforting, but the words came so damn hard.  It was a struggle to keep them level.  “She- she wasn’t alone.  She was where she wanted to be, same as you.  It’s not an accusation.  It’s just the truth.  I don’t think Ash would feel badly about it.”

Nathaly passed her hand over her hair, across her eyes.  “I could have gotten her out.  She would have listened to me.”

“You can’t know that.”  There was forgiveness she couldn’t spare for herself.  “God, you know how stubborn Ash was, especially when it came to proving herself.”

“She drove me fucking crazy.  She was so cocky, every single second- she never let up.”  She crammed her hand over her mouth, as if she were trying to keep something from spilling out, muffling her voice.  “I had to ride her, all the time, just to keep her in line, but she was every bit as good as she thought and I was so proud of her, Kaidan.  So damn proud.”

He leaned into her, his voice breaking a bit.  “I miss her too.”

Nathaly clung to him, fingers digging into his back and her face sunk into his shoulder, just as he hid his own in her neck, and they cried together, alone in the drop chute beside the place that carried Ash’s body home, tears slowly washing away the terrible weight of grief and guilt like dirt down a gutter.

/\/\/\/\/\

More than a week later, Shepard stood on the bridge of her ship with her arms folded. 

“We’re ten hours out from the Citadel, ma’am,” Joker stated, swiping at his nav display.  They were alone on the bridge, the remaining staff at mess.

“Good.” 

“Think it’s wise to jump into the viper’s den so soon?”  He raised his eyebrows at her.

She chuckled, a mixture of humor and resignation, and rubbed her nose.  The bruise had nearly faded into nothing.  “Well, I don’t think I could make any more enemies there without meeting some new people.”

“I heard you made Pressly do the report, to Hackett and Anderson.”

“Yep.”  She bobbed on her toes briefly, testing her weight.  “I don’t think either of them are too happy with me at the moment.”

“Eeesh.”  He shuddered.  “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a decent X.O. and a great navigator, but sending a gentleman to a brawl…”

“It was that or kill the pair of them myself.”  She said it in a way that was mostly joking.  Mostly.  Being lied to for six years about one of the formative events of her life was going to take a while to get over.  “Don’t tell me it was only a holograph.  I’d’ve found a way.”

“Don’t have to convince me.  That was a nasty trick, not telling you Akuze was their damn fault, for not keeping a sharper eye on their own labs.”

“It was a cover-up.  A good one, though- if I was an ounce less stubborn, I still wouldn’t know.”

“You are the last person I’d ever want angry with me,” Joker said, with the fervency of true sincerity.

“Things are getting back to normal,” she reflected, changing the subject.  “It took some talking to get Toombs to go back to the Alliance, but he’ll get the help he needs.”

“And Wayne?” Joker asked. 

“We’ll see.  If they try to hush it up again, they’re going to have a few people ready to take matters into their own hands.  But I think Hackett is smart enough to recognize when he’s beat.”

“Yeah, but are you smart enough to know how many times you can get away with sticking a middle finger up Command’s ass?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” she warned, but it was an empty threat.  He wasn’t wrong.  Shepard shrugged.  “I do what’s necessary.  And I’ve flirted with politics enough these past months to know that I’m never going to be much good at it.  I’m just glad the crew’s stopped giving me those disapproving looks.”

Joker blinked and actually looked up from the console.  “What?”

She flushed.  “You know.  Since Ash died.  It’s been uncomfortable.”

“You thought those looks were contempt?” Joker was gobsmacked.

Shepard wavered.  “Well-“

“Commander, what you did for Alenko on Virmire was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”  He shook his head.  “They’re not judging you.  They’re in awe of you.  And they’re trying to be respectful about Ash, because believe me we all know how you feel about that- you kind of spread it around with a shovel-

“Joker,” Shepard sighed.

He continued, “-and discrete about the, the- you know.”

“Fraternization?” she asked, dryly.

Joker cleared his throat.  “It’s complicated.  And awkward.  But we’re the _Normandy_ crew.  Doesn’t matter what you’ve done.  We stick together.”

She turned back towards the forward port.  A slight smile touched her lips, one completely unblemished by malice or irony, light and free- and if she didn’t completely let go of the guilt, it was at least tucked into a pocket instead of worn around her neck.  “We certainly do.”

Shepard clapped him on the shoulder.  “Carry on, Flight Lieutenant.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”  He turned back to the controls, grinning quietly.  “Aye aye.”


	50. Lockdown

“ _Normandy’s_ tanks are bone dry, Commander,” Pressly said, scanning through the logs.  “The last time we refueled on the Citadel, C-Sec tried to send an inspector along.”

“Well, I doubt they’ll try it again.”  She stood back and rested her hands on her hips.  “Udina had a few choice words about sovereignty for the Executor.”

“Adams says they used to see that kind of thing back in R&D.  Leave a bit of equipment sitting out, nobody pays it any attention.  Put it under a tarp for security and suddenly everyone wants to see what’s underneath.”

Shepard rubbed her chin.  “He may have a point.  Maybe, if we got the Alliance to release some kind of fact sheet, or a few pictures or some video, we’d have fewer people nosing around.”

Pressly laughed.  “Good luck with that, ma’am.”

She grinned back.  Things were easier between them, since Virmire and the raid on Nepheron.  Almost like they were finally starting to trust each other the way a C.O. and an X.O. should.  It was about time.    “Regardless, we need this next tank to last awhile.  We’re running out of time on the Mu Relay.  I think we need to chance it with or without a Council blessing.”

Across the galaxy map, Specialist Lowe murmured something into her comm and terminated the transmission.  She looked up.  “Commander, we’ve received orders from the Citadel.  The Council wants to see you as soon as we dock.”

That was a surprise.  “Any particular reason?”

“They’ve finished reviewing the Virmire report.”  Lowe couldn’t repress a smile.  “They want to discuss reinforcements for dealing with Saren and the geth.  They’re massing a joint-species fleet!”

The pronouncement rocketed around the CIC.  People looked up from their terminals- some excited, some surprised, some simply relieved.  One of the crewman let out a whoop.  They weren’t alone anymore.

Shepard couldn’t suppress an exclamation of disbelief herself, then sagged forward a moment as it hit her.  _It worked.  It really worked._

“Ma’am?” Pressly asked.

Five months of stress and worry fell off her shoulders as she straightened.  “Took them long enough.”

There was laughter, and if some of it was tinged with weariness, nobody passed comment.  Shepard nodded to Pressly.  “Make whatever arrangements you need.  I want us ready to go as soon as possible when I get back.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

Shepard headed down to her quarters to dress.

/\/\/\/\/\

Udina met her in the Council Chamber.  He gave her a nod.  “It’s taken months, but we finally have the proof the Council needs to act.  Good work, Commander.”

From the ambassador, this was high praise.  “Thank you.”

They ascended to the platform, where the Council awaited them.  Tevos didn’t waste time on pleasantries.  “Welcome Commander, Ambassador.  As you’ve been informed, we now believe that your fears regarding Saren Arterius are well-founded.  If he should be so bold as to attack the Citadel, we will be ready.”

“And waiting,” Valern confirmed.  “I have Captain Kirrahe’s report.  STG believes it was a mistake to wait this long after what you jointly discovered on Virmire.  We are in your debt.”

Sparatus nodded to his colleague.  “Patrols are stationed at every mass relay linking Citadel space to the Terminus.  Should Saren come at us after finding this… Conduit, his fleet will be crushed.”

A shadow of a doubt fell over Shepard’s recent optimism.  Carefully, she asked, “And how many ships are you sending to guard the Mu Relay?”

The councilors exchanged glances, confirming her worst fears.  It was Tevos who spoke, in her oh-so-reasonable diplomatic tones- the ones that humored Shepard without quite calling her a naïve fool.  “The Mu Relay is inside Terminus space.  Sending a fleet to guard it only invites full-scale war with those who have chosen to reside outside our laws and protection.”

Udina put his hand on Shepard’s shoulder.  “Now is the time for discretion.  Saren’s greatest weapon was secrecy.  Exposed, and with the might of our allies against him, he is no longer a threat.”

She shook him off, furious.  “Secrecy isn’t his greatest weapon.  The Conduit is.  We must-“

“We must do nothing,” said Sparatus.  He wore an aura of smug satisfaction, as if this was the moment he’d been anticipating since she arrived.  “You say the Conduit is a weapon.  Can you elaborate?”

She scowled, wanting more than anything to knock the superior smile off his face.  Her arms folded to keep her fist from twitching.  “What about Sovereign, then?  Saren’s just a servant of the reapers.  You do not want to underestimate their capabilities.  Sovereign wants the Conduit.  I don’t know what happens when it gets it.”

Tevos was losing patience.  “Only you have seen the reapers.  And then only in visions.  We won’t invade the Terminus Systems because of a dream.”

Shepard glanced from one closed face to the next, ending with Udina’s.  There was no help to be found anywhere.  She made a last-ditch appeal for sanity.  “Let the _Normandy_ go after him.  One ship won’t start a war.  I’ll be discrete.  Just let me get to that relay-“

Sparatus leaned towards her.  “You detonated a nuclear device on Virmire the last time you had Saren in your sights.  That’s not discreet.  That’s obsession.”

Tevos turned to him.  “It seems you were right.  She isn’t willing to let this go.”

“Indeed.”  His shark’s smile widened.  “Ambassador Udina, if you would please escort the Commander out of this chamber?  Perhaps she should take this time to rest her mind.  She’s clearly under a great deal of stress.”

Udina’s hand was at her elbow.  She resisted, utterly blindsided.  “What?”

“We owe you a debt, Commander.  I wish you well.”  Tevos inclined her head, ever so slightly, and then the Council filed out of the chamber. 

Udina dragged her back a step, quietly, urgently.  “There are serious political implications here, Shepard.  Humanity’s made great gains thanks to you.  But now you’re becoming more trouble than you’re worth.”

Her eyes blazed.  “You bastard!  You sold us out!”

He stepped away, a touch wary.  “It’s just politics, Commander.  As I recall, you were the one who so eloquently remind me that politics are my job.  I’m sure the Council can take it from here- with my help, of course.”

A ghost of a victorious smile flitted over his lips. 

That infuriated her as much as anything- thousands of people dead and it was clearly never more than a game to him.  Shepard crowded Udina back against the rail.  Her voice was a soft, deadly hiss.  “Do you think this is over?”

He looked up into her face.  “Spare me the bravado.  We both know you’re not stupid enough to lay hands on me here.  We’ve locked out all the _Normandy’s_ primary systems.  Until further notice, you’re grounded.”

“ _Grounded?_ ”

“One more word, Commander, and I’ll make certain you don’t see the outside of a DMHS clinic for the next year.  Councilor Sparatus’ comments weren’t far off the mark.  You’re reckless and unstable.  But you’ve served your purpose well.”

She stared into his face.  A low growl left her throat.  He swallowed, but held his ground. 

_Think, Nathaly_.  The lone light of reason left in her brain clamored for attention even as her fingers itched for his neck.  _He’s no use to you now.  You need to get back to your ship.  Immediately._

Shepard shoved off him and made for the elevator.

As soon as she was out of range, she activated her comm.  “Joker, I need a status report.”

“What the hell happened?  One minute, we’re refueling, and the next, I’ve got Alliance security swarming my ship!”

“We’ve been had,” she said grimly.  “There was nothing said at that meeting we didn’t already know.  Udina just wanted to get me away from the ship long enough to lock her down.”

“Udina?”  Joker spat the name like something found at the slimy bottom of a dumpster.  “This was his plan?”

“Use our work to lever himself into the Council’s good graces?  Sure as hell sounds like him.”  She sighed.  “I’m headed back.  We’ll think of something.”

/\/\/\/\/\

It proved a futile gesture.  In truth, most of the navy MPs sent to secure the dock were uneasy about the assignment.  The _Normandy_ crew had been the heroes of the war for too long for this to sit right.  But it turned out they weren’t in charge.  The electromagnetic clamps holding the ship in the docking bay, as well as the ship’s drive core, were keyed to Citadel controls.  All they’d done was ensure the computer commands were properly executed. 

With few available options, she released the crew on liberty aboard the Citadel.  They were understandably upset.  She didn’t want to turn her decks into a powder keg of resentment and half-assed escape plans.  For her part, she ended up pacing Deck 2, pulling her hair out and cursing all politicians until she ran out of swear words.  It took some time. 

Almost blind with rage, she kicked at one of the flimsy mess chairs.  It went flying into a bank of footlockers and broke into several pieces.  The crash echoed through the empty deck. 

Shepard ran a hand over her face.  _Some fine example I am.  Spectre of the Citadel and I can’t even command my own ship.  Hell, I can’t even command my own temper half the time.  No wonder bastards like Udina see me as a tool to be used._

With a sigh, she knelt and began to collect the remnants of the chair. 

Footsteps behind her.  She turned.  Kaidan.  “Are you alright?  I heard a bang.”

She shook her head, wearily, and sat back against the lockers.  He slid down next to her.  The leg had finally healed enough to give up the crutches, and he could walk more-or-less unhindered.  “I’m sure there’s a way to appeal.  The Council isn’t the final authority on where Alliance ships can go.”

“Don’t you think I tried?” The words lashed out, harsher than she intended.  He flinched.  She let out a breath and modulated her tone.  “I pushed as hard as I could.  Nobody in Command wants to take my calls right now.”

“Payback for Nepheron?” he asked.

“That’s the smart money.”

He was quiet a few moments.  “It seems like half a lifetime ago that I lent you that book.  I never thought we’d be living in it.”

It’d been a long time since she had a free hour to spend with it, but she’d read _Nightfall_ before.  “A small group of knowledgeable people trying to prepare their civilization for disaster, while their leadership actively discredits them?  I hadn’t thought about it, but I guess you’re right.”

“It’s not the sort of situation you imagine when you sign up.”

Shepard draped her arms across her knees and looked over at him.  “Since we’re not going anywhere, there’s something I’ve been wondering.”

“You never stop picking, do you?”  He chuckled.  “Go ahead.  Do your worst.”

“Why this?”  She gestured around the ship, vaguely.  “There are a lot of assignments out there, even in the marines.  What appealed to you about lounging around the deck of a starship for months at a time?”

Kaidan shrugged.  “Lack of choice.”

“Please,” Shepard said, not buying it for a second.  “You were a college-educated biotic in superior physical condition, only twenty-two.  I’ve seen your aptitude scores-“

“You looked up my screening tests?”  He was torn between incredulous and appalled.

“I looked at everyone’s when I became X.O.”  She ignored his indignation.  “The recruiter would’ve been falling all over himself to get your name on the line.  You could’ve written your own ticket.”

He still seemed slightly peeved, but he let it drop.  “I graduated college with a job in hand, at a firm making high-end personal electronics in New York.  Omni-tools, datapads, things like that.  I couldn’t have asked for a better offer.”

She raised her eyebrows.  “And?”

Kaidan shrugged again, speaking slowly, turning the memory over in his mind.  “I don’t know how to explain it.  I sat down at my desk that first day and instantly knew it wasn’t right for me.  Jitters, I figured, but after a few months the feeling still hadn’t gone away.  I passed a recruitment office during lunch one day, went in, and told the guy I wanted to enlist.  He didn’t believe me at first.”

“Just like that?”

“Well, I’d thought about it before.  Got talked out of it, by my dad mostly.  I didn’t want to spend my life cooped up in some office.  Never doing anything that mattered.”

“But your dad’s retired navy.  I don’t follow.”  Most of the navy families Shepard knew were proud of their service, and encouraged their kids to sign up.

“He didn’t… hate the navy, not exactly.  He resigned when I got home from Jump Zero.  Walked to his C.O.’s house and told him he wasn’t reporting in tomorrow.  Twenty-two years of service, most of it in Vancouver- they were old friends.  Somehow his C.O. smoothed it into a retirement.  He couldn’t reconcile the Alliance’s complicity in what happened out there. It boggled him that I could.”

“I get it.  It’s always easier to be understanding and forgiving when it’s about you, not someone you love.”  She actually couldn’t imagine it- entrusting her child to people who subsequently treated him like a particularly expensive but equally disposable lab supply.

Kaidan cleared his throat.  “Anyway, I just wanted it to be a done deal as quickly as possible.  It took maybe a few days between the tests and drawing up the contract.  Read it, signed it, gave notice at my job, called up my dad and got yelled at for a while.  I think it worked out ok.”

“If your goal was to leave a positive mark, I’d say you’re succeeding.”  She paused, reflecting.  “You know, we’ve been so focused on the reaper threat that I’ve sort of brushed off all the other stuff we’ve done.  It was just a favor here or a lead there.”

“It adds up to a lot.”  He stretched out his legs.  “This is a good crew, the finest I’ve served with.  Everybody gives one hundred percent.  There’s no slackers, or complainers.  We really do things.  All the stuff I’ve wanted to do since I signed up.  For people in a lot of systems, not just those touched by the geth, we’ve made a real difference.”

His earnestness was impossible to disguise.  Shepard looked at him sideways.  “You know, when you talk like that, you almost make me believe we can actually make the world safer or better in the long run.”

“If we can’t, what’s the point?”

“A question I’ve been asking myself for years.”

“You really did want to go teach in Brazil, didn’t you?  You weren’t being flippant.”

“I just…”  She trailed off.  Her fingertip traced scratches in the floor.  “I’m selfish.  I just wanted some place I could call home and mean it.  Where I could be myself and not… you start to feel like equipment after long enough, you know?  As a spectre, I have to be so many different people I can’t begin to keep track.”

He shook his head and made a kind of baffled noise.  She was insulted.  “I know it’s a bit silly but do you really have to laugh at it?”

“I wasn’t laughing.”  His look was full of disbelief.  “Nathaly, you were burned out.  Like the worst case I’ve ever seen.  And you still managed to do all this.  Hell, if anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”

“I’ve had breaks.  There’s just so much work.”  She looked down at her lap.  “I can do things hardly anyone else can.  I owe it to the people who can’t to make the absolute most of it.”

He took her by the shoulders, made her look at him.  “You’ve told me more than once that no single person alone can save the world.  And it will never be any kind of victory to me if you kill yourself trying.  I need you alive for a whole bunch of reasons that have nothing to do with winning a war.”

She stared into his face.  Though the words were meant to strengthen, she felt so fragile she could hardly hold herself up.  In ten years of this there were so few people who cared more about her than what she could do.  Maybe, in the end, that was all she really wanted.

He mistook her shy happiness for doubt.  “We’re going to beat Saren.  This is a setback.  That’s all.”

That she answered with a roll of her eyes.  “I know.  I’ll figure something out.”

He nudged her with his shoulder.  “If I can be of any help, let me know.  But if I’m just driving you crazy-“

“No, I’m glad you’re here.”  She rested her head against the locker door, picking up his hand and playing with their fingers.  “It was a frustrating trip before we got grounded.  I could wring Udina’s neck, I swear.”

“He’s always been in this for himself.  That much is clear.”  He shook his head.  “It’s just about the only thing that is.  Are we the pride of the fleet or not?  And then there’s the reapers.  Should I be afraid of them, or in awe of them? Anything so old, so intelligent…”

“There you go again.”  It was almost funny.

“What?”  He was completely lost.

“The reapers are trying to destroy everything we are, and you still feel a sense of curiosity about them.”  She poked him.  “You want to figure them out.  You’re as bad as Liara when she gets on the Protheans.”

“Well.”  He blushed.

Shepard was not generally speaking a sentimental person.  But looking at him then, her feelings were remarkably tender, fond even.  She stopped fussing and wrapped his hand in hers.  “I really like that about you.”  


“And you never let yourself be distracted by anything.   You always have a Plan B, or C, or Q.  I lo- I mean, I appreciate that about you.  That resolve.”

“You’d be the last person to lose your head during a bad mission, and yet you trip all over yourself talking to me,” she teased.

“Maybe I just need some practice,” he joked, getting to his feet.  “My flirting is a bit rusty.  And if there’s any silver lining to being locked down, we have some time now.”

“To start figuring this out?” she asked, wryly.  “Weren’t we saving that cup of coffee for after we defeat Saren?”

“We’re facing an extragalactic war machine, and nobody’s trying to stop it.  Pretty soon, nobody in the Alliance is going to give a damn about something as minor as fraternization.”

He held out a hand to haul her up.  After sitting on the floor for so long, her legs had started to go to sleep, and she stumbled into him.  An apology was already forming on her lips before she realized he wasn’t stepping away, and his arm was still folded around her waist, where he caught her.  Their eyes locked.  Her heartbeat quickened.  It was impossible to say who leaned towards whom first.

The comm burst into life.  “Commander, I’ve got a message from Captain Anderson.”

Just a few short months ago, they would have sprung apart instantly, as if magnetically repelled.  Now, Kaidan looked into her face with mixed resignation and disappointment.  Her fingers brushed his mouth in regret.  Slowly, reluctantly, they slid away.  Kaidan ran his hand over his hair.  Shepard glanced at the speaker in exasperation.  “What did he want?”

“It was vague.  He wants you to meet him at a club down in the wards, Flux.  Said it was important.  I think he’s worried Udina’s bugged our comms.”

“He’s probably right.  Thanks.”

She looked at Kaidan, not sure what to say, aware it wouldn’t be enough.  He sighed.  “Well, I guess we better go then.”

That made her mouth quirk.  “We?”

“After finding out about Akuze and having your ship grounded, I think it would be best for Anderson if there were witnesses.”

It was said as a joke, but with a naked streak of sincerity that made her burst out laughing. 

As they walked up the stairs, he grumbled, “I swear though, if you keep me waiting much longer, it better damn well be the end of the galaxy.”

Without a shred of hesitation, Shepard pushed him up against the stairwell, pressed her body into his, looked into his eyes- and kissed the air in front of his mouth.

He huffed at her, feigning irritation.  “Tease.”

/\/\/\/\/\

It was evening on the Citadel.  Bouncy dance music blared through Flux’s hatch, beckoning customers within.  A healthy number of bodies already writhed on the floor.  However, it was still early enough that an even greater number sat at the tables, taking in a meal, with the drinks only beginning to flow. 

Shepard and Alenko claimed seats in the middle of the controlled chaos, where it was the loudest and therefore they were least likely to be overheard, and ordered coffees.  A large bank of windows looked down over the ward, bright with neon and noise. 

“So,” Kaidan asked, sitting back.  “Where do you think the best view will be when the reapers roll in?”

During the cab ride to the club, the mood had grown increasingly silly until they were almost punch drunk on despair.  Neither of them could see a way out of the situation.  Talking to Anderson couldn’t be more than a way to kill some time. 

“Top of the Presidium,” she answered promptly.  “Slap on a breather helm, prime a hydration bulb with a decent whiskey, and wait.”

“What, you don’t want to watch from _Normandy’s_ bridge?”

“Like there’s going to be any kind of view from the dock.”  She sipped her coffee, twirling the spoon between her fingers.

Her feelings about this meeting were mixed.  Kaidan was trying to distract her with silly jokes, but just the thought of Anderson stoked a dull and quiet rage inside her. There was no chance he hadn’t known what happened on Akuze.  There was no other reason for his evasion when she tried to discuss Cerberus.  The Alliance trying to cover its ass was pretty much SOP, but Anderson going along with it, keeping her in the dark- that was special.  That was betrayal. 

Even if he came to this meeting in good faith, even if he wasn’t complicit in Udina’s schemes, it was difficult to see what he might do to remedy the _Normandy’s_ situation.  She stared out the windows, watching the cars zip past, streaks of orange in the artificial night, and waited.

/\/\/\/\/\

Meanwhile, Captain David Anderson battled with his automated taxi and was late in arriving.  It was almost as though Udina’s spirit had infected the Citadel transport system, doing everything in its power to prevent him from making this meeting.  Which was absurd- if Udina was even aware of it, he would assume that Anderson meant to talk Shepard around, salvage something of her career prospects following yet another untimely outburst in front of the Council.  Nothing could be further from the truth. 

Anderson had given up a lot since Eden Prime to ensure the success of this mission and the safety of the galaxy; he wasn’t about to stop now, simply because they’d been outmaneuvered by a short-sighted rat.  And if he were pressed for deeper honesty, Saren’s comeuppance was long overdue, after the mountain of shit he’d created over the past twenty years.  He’d prefer to enact it himself, but Shepard was a good second choice.

Spotting her through even this dazzling crowd was scarcely a challenge.  Her red hair stood out easily enough among humans; with aliens in the mix, it was practically a siren.  Combine that with the military uniform, dull as a pigeon in a flock of plastic peacocks, and there was no missing her.

She’d brought Alenko with her, he noted, unsurprised.  The stiff animosity between Shepard and Navigator Pressly was hardly secret.  Alenko was the third-ranking officer, and a marine, more attuned to her way of thinking.  They were sitting rather close to one another, though Anderson thought little of it; the concept of personal space tended to shrink aboard a crowded frigate. 

As he approached their table, however, he began to overhear their conversation.

“Are you crazy?” Shepard was saying, the indignation rolling off her in waves.  “Of course I’m going to mention it.”

“I just don’t think now is the time.  Keeping what happened on Akuze from you was wrong, but we have bigger problems.”  Alenko sounded more amused than concerned.

She leaned towards him and folded her arms on the table.  A small grin played over her mouth.  “Please.  I’m not going to derail the mission.  I’m just saying- what’s the harm in making him sweat a bit?”

“Nathaly.”  He gave her a level look. 

“What?  He deserves it.”

Alenko rolled his eyes.  “Be nice.”

She wrinkled her nose.  “I don’t do nice.”

“Consider it a challenge, then.”  He sat back, crossing his arms and grinning.  Her smile broadened.  Her foot nudged his.

_They’re flirting_ , Anderson realized, dumbfounded.  He’d known when he selected the crew that Shepard would be hell on whoever wound up in charge of the marines.  Delegation wasn’t in her nature, and she was convinced nobody knew better when it came to ground maneuvers.  Alenko had come recommended by his previous C.O. as a confident, competent officer ready for more who would neither bristle at her interference nor be intimidated by her overbearing manner.    

Anderson’s sole consideration was the welfare of their mission.  He spared no thought for the potential consequences of trapping two people with a similar frame of mind aboard a ship in high-stress conditions, and under minimal supervision.

His mouth hardened into a frown.  He would have expected a sense of propriety.  But he’d deal with this later.  Right now, Saren took precedence.

Shepard straightened in her seat, all amusement instantly evaporating, as he came into view and slid into a free chair.  He draped his arm over the back.  “Commander.  I’m glad you came.  I heard what happened in the Council session.”

She folded her hands on the table.  There was an edge to her tone.  “You had to know this was coming.  You could have warned me.”

His eyes narrowed.  As far as he was concerned, she was already on thin ice, for any number of reasons.  Too thin for making accusations.  “I tried.  The ambassador wouldn’t let me get a message through before you docked.”

She opened her mouth. He overrode her.  “I know you’re pissed off, but you need to swallow it.  This isn’t over.  You need to get to that relay and stop Saren from reaching the Conduit.”

“How?” she asked, disgusted.  “My ship’s grounded.  I can’t take a different one- without the IES, the Terminus Systems will use us for target practice.”

Alenko cleared his throat, a bit more circumspect now that Anderson was there.  “Commander, I doubt the captain would’ve asked us here if he didn’t have some kind of plan.”

Shepard glared, and Shepard glowered, but Shepard was quiet, awaiting a response, and Anderson was mildly impressed with Alenko’s persuasion.  He didn’t know whether to be amused or concerned that the commander, who would spit in the face of the Council without hesitation, was unwilling to behave badly in front of him.

There was an undercurrent of ire whenever she addressed Anderson that told him no matter how lighthearted the conversation he’d eavesdropped, the concern about Akuze was serious.  Her potshots were an attempt to, in fact, “be nice,” as requested.  They were the anger that leaked past her guard. 

Anderson decided to attempt diffusing the issue.  “I heard about the raid on Nepheron, too.  I’m sorry you had to find out that way.”

“Why did I have to find out that way?” she shot back.

“I didn’t know myself until two years ago.”  He held up his hand before she could launch a protest, impatient.  “Here’s what you didn’t learn from your little fishing expedition on Arcturus.  _Cerberus_ didn’t know that we knew they were behind it.  We were using that intel to track officers we suspected of involvement, like Wayne, hoping they would lead us to something worthwhile.  And nobody has to know you longer than five minutes to realize you’d never agree the sensitivity was worth looking away.”

“I understand security, Anderson.  I don’t understand you not being straight with me on this.” 

“It wasn’t an easy call.  I learned about it indirectly- and I’m sure that’s because they thought I’d tell you.”  Anderson found he couldn’t hold her gaze.  Anger was one thing.  She was watching him with dismay and disillusion.  “For what it’s worth, it wasn’t only about protecting Alliance intel.  I thought…”

“You thought what?”

It wasn’t his place to decide how much she could take.  His place was ordering her into tough situations, the kind nobody else could figure out, and make her do the job.  And she never said no.  But at the same time, she was a young woman he’d known for quite a while, his friend’s only daughter.  He had mentored a number of marines throughout his career, but none as closely or for as long as Shepard, and he didn’t get many chances to spare her anything.  They were in the same field.  He knew the costs. 

Anderson looked away, his voice gruff.  “Just things an old man thinks from time to time.”

Shepard wasn’t ready to let it go.  “First you fuck me over on this and won’t even tell me why.  Then Udina steals our solitary scrap of Council goodwill and grounds my ship.  Why the hell should I-“

Enough was enough.  Anderson leaned towards her with a voice like a sharpened knife.  “Commander Shepard, remember what I told you when you left this station with my ship?”

Shock was followed by confusion and then by pique.  Her memory was good.  She ground her teeth.  “You said to keep my eyes on the real threat.”

“What is the real threat?”  He gestured at the restaurant.  “Is it sitting at this table?  Or in the Council chamber, maybe?”

“No, sir,” she answered stiffly.  “It’s the reapers, sir.”

“Then what the hell are you going on about?” he demanded.

It wasn’t much, but Shepard settled a bit, slouching down.  “So what’s the plan to get the _Normandy_ back?”

“Citadel control’s locked out all the _Normandy’s_ systems.  But if we override the ambassador’s orders we can get them to bring the _Normandy_ back online.   You can be in the Terminus Systems before anyone even knows you’re gone.”

Alenko blinked.  “You want to steal the ship?”

Shepard sat up fast.  “If we do this, you’re going to be left holding the bag.  They’ll nail you to the wall.  Udina will make sure of it.”

“And if Saren finds the Conduit, it’s all over.  For everyone, not just me.”  He glanced at each of them in turn, as touched as he was irritated by the concern.   “I understand what I’m proposing.”

She shook her head, still not willing to accept it.  “We’re talking mutiny.  There’s no guarantee any of the crew will go along with it, and I can’t fly the damn ship myself.”

“There’s nobody aboard the _Normandy_ who won’t follow you to hell and back,” Alenko pronounced flatly.  “Not after everything we’ve been through.  You know it’s true.”

“I can’t ask them to do this.”

“No,” Anderson corrected, “You can’t order them to do this.  But you can ask.  You’re not responsible for what guides them to their choice.”

He watched the struggle play out on her face.  She clearly wasn’t happy, but pragmatism won out.  Or perhaps it was a desire to obliterate Saren, burning stronger than any misgivings.  That kind of enemy was an enormous temptation.  “Let’s say I do.  How are you going to override Udina’s orders?”

“I can unlock the _Normandy_ from one of the consoles in the Citadel control center.  You’ll have a few minutes before anyone realizes what’s happened.”

“You have access to the Citadel control center?”  She raised her eyebrows.

“Not exactly.  I should be able to slip around the patrols.”  He snorted at her frank disbelief.  “I earned my N7 commendation too, you know.  I still know a few tricks.”

Shepard shook her head.  “This is insane.  You’re going to get yourself killed.”

He rubbed his chin.  “There might be another way.  Udina issued the command from his office.  If I can hack into his computer…”

Alenko was dubious.  “He’s not going to let you just waltz into his office and use his computer.  And even if you manage it- he won’t let it go.  He’ll call it treason, and that’s a capital offense.”

“He’ll only manage to have me charged if the _Normandy_ doesn’t succeed.  And if you don’t succeed… well, a firing squad will be the least of my concerns.  With luck, he won’t be at his desk.  If he is- I’ll have to think of something.”

Shepard grinned.  “Something, huh?”

“Yeah.”  He glanced at the clock mounted over the bar.  “We’re wasting time.  What’s our plan?”

“It’s your skin, so it’s your call.” 

He thought about it.  “I’ll break into Udina’s office.  He made this personal.”

She nodded.  The three of them rose.  “Give me thirty minutes to deal with my crew.  We’ll be ready.”

“Good.”  As she turned to go, he couldn’t help adding, “And Shepard?  Take care out there.”

Her mouth turned up at one corner.  “Don’t screw up?”

“Don’t let him win.” 

She regarded him a long moment.  “Yes, sir.”

/\/\/\/\/\

They issued an emergency recall to the wandering crew.  Within twenty minutes, everyone was back aboard and assembled in the mess.  It was the only space large enough to hold them all, and even then, it was standing room only.  Shepard climbed onto a counter to be seen. 

Forty-odd curious faces stared up at her.  She took a deep breath and kept it simple.  This was it- the beginning of the end, one way or another.  “We’ve been through a lot since Eden Prime.  Your service has been exemplary, each and every one of you, and I want you to know that no matter what happens over the next few days, I’m proud to call myself your commander.”

There wasn’t so much as a whisper in the room.  Shepard continued, “Captain Anderson and I have concocted a plan that will allow us to travel to the Mu Relay and forestall Saren.  But I won’t sugarcoat it.  This is an illegal action and even if we win the day, it might be only to face courts-martial back on Earth, as mutineers and whatever else they can make stick.  You’ve got families and careers to think of.  You didn’t sign up for this.  Anyone who wants to leave- you know where to find the door, and I won’t think less of you.”

Her eyes scanned the room, taking in each of them, her crew, people almost as dear to her as her family.  Her responsibility.  “You have five minutes to decide.”

Shepard sat down on the counter, and waited.  For thirty seconds nobody spoke.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have been surprising that the first person to raise their voice was Wrex.  “Stealing an Alliance ship is risky stuff.  But I’m right behind you, Shepard.  It’s the least I can do.”

He offered her a feral grin.  She shook her head.  “You know I’m mostly crazy, right?”

“Sometimes crazy is the best way to go.”  His anticipation was palpable.  “I just hope they don’t catch us before we get our hands on Saren.”

There was a murmur of agreement at that, along with a rising sense of determination.  Garrus spoke next.  “If you’re wrong about Saren’s plans, we’ll pay for it, but if you’re right and we do nothing, I think we’ll regret it a whole lot more.”

Adams caught her eye, firm and steady.  “The _Normandy’s_ a hell of a ship, Commander.  She’ll get us through this.  We can worry about after later.”

The pocket of enlisted marines stood off to one side, whispering furiously.  Draven, the most experienced person now that Ash was gone and the de facto spokeswoman, looked up.  “We’re in.”

“So we’re fugitives on the run.  Very exciting!”  Tali glanced around at the skeptical looks.  “What?”

Liara was pale, but determined.  “We must do whatever it takes to stop the reapers from returning.  No matter the cost.”

She met Shepard’s eyes, and she knew she was remembering the beacon’s warning shared between their minds, in all its horror.

Near the front, Pressly shook his head.  “To hell with it.  Grounding the ship like this is an insult- and dangerous.  We all took an oath to defend the Alliance.  I intend to do exactly that.”

Bakari seemed downright enthusiastic.  “It’ll be an adventure.”

Shepard stared at the lot of them, open-mouthed.  “ _None_ of you wants to leave?  Have you all lost your minds?  This is mutiny we’re talking about.”

A private perched on the mess table shouted over the din.  “It’ll be mutiny the day Udina puts on a uniform, ma’am, and not before.”

That sparked an angry round of muttering.  Even if Udina convinced Command to go along with his scheme, and it wasn’t entirely clear that he had, they were still locked down under his orders- and civilians didn’t get to give those, save for Parliament. 

There was a definite consensus, that Udina was a toad and this was too important to worry about the consequences.  That they’d been working too long and hard to bring Saren down to entrust the task to the Council now.  That whether or not it was within regs, this was the right thing to do- the only thing to do.

From somewhere near her elbow, too quietly to be heard by anyone not in their immediate vicinity, Kaidan said, “Told you so.”

She barely resisted the urge to swat him.  For being right, for rubbing it in, and for convincing her that this was possible.  She held up her hand to stop the discussion.  “Alright.  I hear you.  Thank you.  I guess I’ll have a lot of company in the Vancouver brig.”

That drew laughter, and a good amount of it.  Her eyes went to the ceiling.  “Joker, what’s our status?”

“Just passed the thirty minute window, ma’am.  We’re waiting on Anderson now.”

“Right.”  She looked back at the crew.  “Everybody to their stations.  This isn’t over yet.”

There was a spattering of salutes and affirmations, before they scattered to their posts.  Tali was right; a current of excitement filled the air, as their mission approached its climax and they took their fate into their own hands.  It provided a kind of energy Shepard only hoped would hold until it was over.  She took the stairs to the bridge.

Joker had a number of haptic control displays primed and ready.  Off to the side, however, was a single circular indicator, glowing red.  He hadn’t taken his eyes from it since she came up behind him.  “That’s our lock?”

“Yep.”  He drummed his fingers on the armrest, nervous. 

They waited as the minutes ticked by.  Each second lasted an eon.  Shepard paced behind his chair, unable to keep still.  Just as she thought Anderson surely must have failed, that it had been far too long, the circle abruptly went green.  “Get us the hell out of here.”

“Way ahead of you.”  His hands flew over the controls. 

Shepard shifted her attention to the ladar.  Here in the docks, it filtered out a lot of contamination and left a relatively clean board that would allow her to observe any pursuit.  She held her breath.  Udina commanded no ships.  Would the Council care enough to dispatch any?  Would Alliance Command?  Would they even notice before the _Normandy_ reached the relay?

The relay.  Her blood ran cold.  “Joker- the relay queue-“

“I know.”  His mouth was pressed into a tight line of concentration.  “I’ve got a plan.”

“What plan?” 

But she could see it already.  They were approaching the Citadel relay at tremendous speed.  So was a merchant ship, laden with hab modules.  Joker swung around until they were flying parallel to the relay, but above the queue, descending rapidly into alignment.  She licked her lips.  “Joker-“

The merchant ship couldn’t be more than a half klick away.  Shepard gripped his headrest.  “Joker-“

The ship loomed in the port, at least three times their size.  Its shadow filled their ladar.  Proximity alert warnings sounded through the cabin.  Her nails punctured the artificial leather, too transfixed to even shout an order to brace for impact.

With less than fifty meters to spare, the _Normandy_ whipped over the top of the other ship, screaming into position just as the mass relay spun up.  Before the relay control team could react, a lick of blue reached out and spun them away.  Joker had effectively stolen the merchant ship’s jump.

The _Normandy_ floated sedately away from the destination relay, without another ship in sight. 

Her pilot sat back and let out a long breath.  “Aw, damn it.  No sign of pursuit?  I was hoping the Council would send some ships after us.  Or the Alliance.  Or C-Sec.  Or somebody…”

Shepard pried her fingers out of the cushion with an effort of will.  She’d remember the bulk of the larger ship approaching at deadly velocity until the day she died.  “This isn’t a game of tag.”

“Course not, ma’am.  I was just looking forward to putting _Normandy_ through her paces, see what she can really do.”

“Joker,” she said, with all the sincerity in the world, “I would say you’ve just done exactly that.”

He muttered something disparaging.  Shepard gulped a bit of air to compose herself.  “Where are we?”

“A nice quiet pocket at the edge of the Traverse.  We should be able to reach the Mu Relay easily from here.”

“How long?” 

He checked a screen.  “Fifteen hours, give or take.”

“That soon?”  She was surprised.

“Why?  You got a lot of things to take care of?”

“Just one,” she said, and headed down to med bay.

Liara was in her lab, as usual.  Shepard had no idea how to phrase what she needed.  The commander had no real experience of siblings, but she figured Liara had to come close.  It was somewhat absurd- Liara was more than thrice Shepard’s age- but between her protectiveness, Liara’s desire to please, and closeness fraught with the occasional spat, it felt like having a sister.  Liara worked herself to the bone addressing this problem.  Going to her now, demanding answers, would make her feel like a failure. 

No choice.  They were against the wall.  Shepard pushed through the hatch.

Liara turned slightly as she came in, and shook her head, anticipating the question.  “Shepard, I’m sorry.”

“I need that destination, Liara.”  She tried not to show how desperate she truly was.  There was no way to tell whether Saren had used the relay, and waiting for him to return, Conduit in hand, was a dicey proposition.

Liara twisted her hands.  “I’ve got it down to a dozen systems-“

“Which is your favorite?”

“We can’t afford to guess wrong.”  That was the scientist talking; implacable, detail-oriented, unwilling to commit to a single hypothesis without overwhelming evidence.

Shepard ran her fingers over her hair, wracking her brain.  “Maybe if you let me in your head, show me what you’re thinking-“

Her cheeks colored.  “I do not believe that would be productive.  We’ve been over this so many times.”

“We’ve been over _my_ thought process,” Shepard emphasized.  “We’ve never looked at yours.”

Liara’s discomfort grew.  She shrank back on the bench.  Shepard sat down beside her, calm, but with unvarnished urgency.  “In less than a day, we’ll be at this relay.  This- finding the Conduit- that’s the whole ballgame.  We’ve come so far.”

She turned her attention to her datapad, fussing with the screen.  “I realize that.  I just don’t know what purpose further melding would serve.” 

Shepard touched her shoulder.  “You convinced me to do this because there was no other way.  It’s enabled critical breakthroughs and lent insight to this mission.  Isn’t it worth one more shot?”

Liara looked up at her then, for the first time since she entered the lab, and her blue eyes brimmed with trepidation.  Her face etched by deep lines, a statement on her exhaustion, and her lips pressed together tightly. 

Nonetheless, she silently offered her hands, palms up, to Shepard. 

When Shepard in turn hesitated, taken aback by the sight of her, she forced a small smile.  “You taught me that when the stakes are this serious, nothing comes before the mission.  You’re right.  We need to see this through.”

Before empathy could forestall her again, Shepard nodded, took her hands, and closed her eyes.  There was the familiar feeling of falling, easier every time, and then she found herself standing in the same lab, tucked behind med bay.

Shepard blinked, confused.  “Did it work?”

But Liara was once again in her red dress, and Shepard began to notice that things were not exactly the same, not quite.  The lines of the furniture were more gracefully rendered, the chair all but unrecognizable- asari-made, she wagered.  The room was larger.  Along one wall shelves laden with Prothean relics lent a museum-like air to the utilitarian space. 

Liara’s desk was altered as well.  Instead of a simple bench hanging off the bulkhead, it was antique wood, bound in green leather.  Several datapads scattered the surface as in reality, but there were other items, pictures, knickknacks.  One near the edge caught Shepard’s attention.  She picked it up for closer inspection.

It was a handsomely framed portrait of the _Normandy_ crew, standing nowhere in particular, every person smiling.  Her brow furrowed.

Liara stepped in front of her, interrupting her inspection.  “We should focus on the task at hand.  I don’t know how long I can sustain the meld.”

“Right.”  Shepard’s gaze lingered on the picture a moment longer.  Liara didn’t sound concerned about the exertion so much as anxious to get Shepard away from the desk.  She turned away, mindful of Liara’s privacy, but couldn’t help asking.  “I’m surprised your inner world would look like this lab.  Shiala and I didn’t imagine real places, anyway.”

“And I’m certain your vast experience looking into others’ minds has given you a firm grasp of what is normal,” Liara replied, coolly.  There was no mistaking it- she was not comfortable having Shepard here. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed it, but there was no time for doubts.  “Can you show me what you’ve got?”

She nodded, turning one of the pictures face-down with what she surely thought was a subtle gesture as she moved towards a table.  The cozy corner nook, in real life the location of Liara’s cot, bore that same alien elegance.  They settled into the padded chairs, and Liara touched the table, bringing up a three-dimensional holographic chart.  “Here are the twelve worlds I mentioned.  I have dossiers on each of them, but nothing conclusive.  All of them feature prominently in Prothean… well, lore, if we’re being honest.  There’s little concrete information.”

“What about the planets from the beacons?”  Witnessing an unbroken vision from the Virmire beacon had given Shepard much clearer images of each of the invaded worlds from her nightmares. 

“Perhaps we can incorporate that data.”  She held out her hand.  


Shepard stared at it blankly.

“I need you to give me access to the vision,” Liara prompted.

“Oh.  I don’t know how-“  But even as Shepard formed the words, something settled in her palm.  It was an OSD, blinking a ready light.  She knew without having to look that it represented the beacon’s warning.

Liara slotted it into the table, business-like.  It shot through her chart with rays of orange light as the program- or perhaps Liara’s own thoughts, represented within this hologram- discovered new correlations.  At any rate, Liara stared at it intently for several long minutes as the web continued to grow.

Shepard, easily bored and on edge from urgency, got up and paced the room.  Eventually, her eyes wandered back to the desk.  _It’s not really snooping.  She’s got cabinets in here.  This is right out in the open._

She expected to see pictures or letters from Liara’s other acquaintances- colleagues, teachers, maybe students at least.  And there was a rather handsome portrait of a much younger Benezia tacked to the wall, laughing carelessly, her smile identical to her daughter’s.  How she looked when Liara was a child, Shepard imagined.  But every other picture was somebody aboard the ship or involved in their mission.

There were Garrus and Wrex, swapping stories in the mess, trying to one-up each other.  Tali with grease smeared on her faceplate, wrench in hand, scrunched up under some component down in engineering.  Shepard heard a ghost of her muttering quarian curses as her fingers brushed the frame.  Ash in the comm room recording a message for her sisters- so vibrant it cut her to watch, but it was starting to be a good kind of hurt, the kind that meant a wound was healing over.  Kaidan in the lounge, glued a book and oblivious to the world around him.  Joker, Pressly, Chakwas, Adams- the list went on.

The more she looked, the more her curiosity grew.  Liara’s subconscious picked this room and these decorations for a reason.  Could the last five months really outweigh the whole rest of her life?  Or was she simply under so much stress that her equilibrium was shot to hell?

Shepard glanced over her shoulder.  Liara was still absorbed in the hologram.  Guilt blossomed even as she reached towards the turned-down picture, but the temptation was too great.  She half-expected a zap of electricity or some other reprisal as she touched it.  What she felt was something quite different.

Warmth filled her, like sitting in the sunshine on fine spring afternoon, sweet and lazy, but spiked with electricity- hot, potent, unendurable in its intensity.  It dazzled her like lightning.  Curiosity made her forget any semblance of respect, and she started to turn it over, just a little peek…

Liara’s head jerked up.  “What are you doing?”

Shepard dropped the picture as though bitten.  Her face burned.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t know what came over me.”

The remorse was genuine, even if it hardly excused the invasion.  Liara read it on her face and sighed.  “I suppose you must think this only fair.  I may not have seen much of the content, but the closed nature of your mind speaks volumes on its own.”

She was startled.  “That’s not what I think at all.  I’m just- surprised.  I thought you’d have-“

But to point it out would be rude, or even unkind, and Shepard fell silent.  Liara filled in the blank, a bit shy and embarrassed as she put the pictures back to order.  “I never had much in the way of close friends.  I know it must seem awful to say, with your colonies at war, but I’m glad all this happened.  This ship… means a great deal to me.”

Shepard stared.  The thought blossomed before she could put in check.  “Liara- I killed your mother.”

She shook her head.  “That was not your fault.”

Shepard glanced around the room again, taking it in, and realized abruptly that it wasn’t pulled from a mind too stressed and preoccupied to think outside its present circumstances.  This was a place where Liara was truly happy.  As little sense as that made, as humble as it was- happy. 

“If I had to lose my mother,” Liara said, as if reaching the end of a thought, “It was a thousand times better to endure it here than any place of so-called safety.  I want to be here with you.”

She had no idea what to say to that.  Some rusty instinct pulled Liara into a hug.  “We’re glad you’re here, too.”

Liara clung to her a moment.  Then she neatly stepped away, as if self-conscious about the lapse of dignity.  She took a breath.  “I think I know where the Conduit is.”

“You do?”  Shepard’s excitement skyrocketed.  “Where?”

Above the table, a planet hovered, outlined with orange traces.  Shepard took a step towards it, involuntarily.  “I’ve seen this before.”

“Perhaps this will jog your memory.”  Liara did something to the display.  The planet swung around until it was backlit by its host star, boiling like a cauldron in the fiery light. 

It took only a moment to place it.  Shepard had lived with it since Eden Prime.  “This is the last part of the vision.  The last world.”

“Yes.”  Liara turned to her.  “I think- it’s speculation, but I think this is where the beacon signal originated.  As I’ve mentioned, they were communications device, in the time of the Protheans.  I think it was trying to lead us here.”

“Does it have a name?” But even as she asked, she realized she knew.  A part of her had known since Saren’s lab.  The cipher lay parallel to her brain, touching it, not really a part of it.  It wasn’t something she could consciously access.  But it recognized this world, understood the beacons, and here, in this strange place created by both their minds, it could finally be heard.

_The Protheans called it Ilos_ , Liara had said to her, months ago, in response to a question about civilizations predating them.  Now Liara nodded confirmation.  “Ilos.  Maybe they retreated there during the reaper invasion.  Maybe they sought answers in their predecessors just as we’ve looked to Prothean technology.”

Shepard watched the planet revolve in the hologram.  “That’s where we’re going.  We’ll know soon enough.”


	51. Night Vigil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Note: This chapter contains explicit content, between the second and third scene breaks.

 

Armed with Liara’s discovery, Shepard conferred with Pressly and Joker, confirming Ilos’ location and that they could use the Mu Relay to reach it.  It was in the Pangaea Expanse, deep in the Terminus, and beyond isolated.  There were no star charts.  Before the rediscovery of the Mu Relay, the only means to reach the system involved years or decades of FTL travel through unexplored space, at unconscionable risk and expense given the location.  Even within Council Space, such expeditions were rarities even in areas of active colonization like the Traverse, and required special approval. 

Pressly was beside himself.  He took the mutiny in stride- much to Shepard’s personal astonishment- and seemed downright thrilled to be headed into uncharted space.  It made a strange kind of sense.  As a navigator, he’d spent years training for just these circumstances, skills rarely used in the modern Alliance save during emergencies.  Maybe that was what lured Pressly into the navy in the first place- the promise of new horizons and fresh ground underfoot.

Once their plans were laid, Shepard took the comm and ordered Lowe to open a ship-wide broadcast.  “ _Normandy_ , this is the commander.  In less than ten hours, we will arrive at the Mu Relay.  We now know that Saren’s destination and the location of the Conduit is an old Prothean colony called Ilos.  It is my intention to travel through the relay and either beat Saren to his target, or wrest it from his grasp.”

There was no need for a big speech; they all knew the score.  “I suggest everyone try to get some rest.  The next time we get a chance, one way or another, this trip will be over.  It’s been a long time coming.  He’s not going to get away with it again.  This war ends here.”

As she stepped away from the comm, Pressly cleared his throat.  “You ought to take your own advice, ma’am.  It’s bound to be rough on the ground.”

“Gonna try, anyway.”  She gave him a tight smile.  Sleeping before a mission was all but impossible even before the beacon’s nightmare, but despite the recent thaw in their relations she’d rather shove rusty nails into her eyeballs than discuss her dreams with Pressly.  “The deck is yours.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  He took up her spot as she headed down the stairs to her cabin.

/\/\/\/\/\

The hours trickled by.  Lieutenant Alenko was in the lounge.  He couldn’t sleep, and anyway, the hot bunks were full.  He’d cleaned his weapons, checked his suit, run a diagnostic on his omni-tool combat routines.  Thinking it would be best not to hit Ilos on an empty stomach, he spent a short while searching through the mess, but nothing looked appealing. 

Somewhere on the other side of that relay, Saren waited, with his reaper dreadnought and a fleet of geth.  One ship, even a stealth ship, wasn’t much against such a host.  Alenko wasn’t the type to worry about the odds.  He wasn’t afraid to die if it came to that.  He just didn’t want to leave any loose ends.

The lounge was crammed up against the skipper’s quarters.  He could almost feel Shepard on the other side of the wall, pacing back and forth, wearing a shiny-smooth strip into the floor.  She’d probably be up all night re-running numbers and strategy and scenarios until her head was a total mess and only putting actual boots on Ilos would bring it back into focus.

It was hard to sit there, with it being so late and her so close, knowing that everyone tonight was too preoccupied with their own thoughts to notice or care if he went to her cabin.

_I should let her at least try to rest_.  He bit his lip.  It wasn’t a good time for distractions, or heart-to-heart chats.  He glanced again at the wall.  _Screw it.  I want- I’ll just go in and say what needs to be said.  And then I’ll leave.  That’s all._

Before he could think better of it, he rose and rapped on her hatch.

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard sat at her personal terminal.  Upon discovering there were no maps of Ilos to consult, even ancient ones, she settled for a mash-up of Sovereign footage, geth force estimates, and data on other Prothean sites.  It was a feeble attempt to think through what they were likely to encounter on the planet’s surface.

“Enter,” she called, distracted, at the knock.

Kaidan walked in.  “Hey, you.” 

As openers went, it wasn’t stunning, but it put a smile on her face.  “Hey yourself.  I figured you’d be sleeping.”

“And I figured you’d be driving yourself to distraction trying to plan the unplannable.”  But he said it with a smile of his own.  “You can take Commander Shepard out of the chain of command, but you can’t take the officer out of her.”

She slouched back and shook her head, chuckling.  “I guess I should get some use out of the title while I can.  The first thing the navy’s going to do when they catch up is strip my rank.”

“’Mutineer’ has more of a ring to it than ‘commander’ anyway.”

“Doesn’t look quite as impressive on a resume.”

His mouth quirked.  He crossed his arms.  “I suppose that depends on who’s trying to hire you.”

She laughed again, and smoothed her expression, erasing the anxiety.  “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” he replied, instantly, and blushed.  “I mean, nothing official, anyway.”

She knew what he meant.  Since about an hour into this vigil, she’d been fighting the impulse to find him, to have somebody to help wait out this long night, but she resisted because it seemed an unnecessary distraction.  Unprofessional.  Shepard was really starting to hate that word.  For the moment, she decided to ignore it. 

She moved across the room and settled into the couch, leaning back with her arm resting along the top of the cushions.  “We’re fleeing our own navy, and there’s a good chance we’re all dead by this time tomorrow.  It may be time to admit this stopped being a standard officer-subordinate relationship awhile back.  What’s on your mind?”

He stayed standing, and licked his lips, bounced once on his toes.  “This is some pretty deep stuff we’re into.”

“Having second thoughts?” she asked lightly.  “I’ll remind you that you pushed me into this.”

That made him laugh.  “No.  This is just a hell of a way to set an example.”

Shepard raised an eyebrow.  “You think we’re putting the navy at risk for a rash of mutinies?”

“I did read a weird thing a few weeks ago.  Apparently, there’s been an epidemic of hair dye in the latest batch of recruits.  Bright red.”

“Please tell me you’re making this up.”

He raised his hand.  “Cross my heart.”

She buried her face in her hands.  “I tried to tell them I’m no good on a poster.  Why does nobody ever listen to me?”

Alenko eased into the seat beside her, and nudged her.  “Maybe you’re a better example than you think.”

She scoffed, embarrassed, smoothed her hands over her lap and looked up at him.  “Seriously, what did you need?”

The light-hearted mood evaporated.  He fidgeted and fumbled.  “It’s all going to hit the fan when we get to Ilos.  I just wanted you to know… Well.  I’ve enjoyed serving under you.”

Oh, so that was it.She smirked, and reached towards him.  Her fingertip brushed his jawline, turning his face to her.  “Kaidan, I don’t believe I’ve yet had the pleasure of you serving under me.”

He chuckled and glanced away, and blushed a bit despite himself.  “Well, there goes me trying to be serious for a moment.”

“Let’s not kid ourselves.  You’re always perfectly serious.”  Her grin widened.  Her hand fell into her lap.

The joke fell flat.  He seemed determined to have this out, whatever it was.  Kaidan took a breath and looked into her face, searching.  “Nathaly- what if this doesn’t work out?”

She didn’t know whether he meant the mission, or something else.  Between the gravity of the situation and their proximity to one another, it was hard not to wonder about his reaction if she slid across that last bit of distance, pressed him down into the couch, and let whatever happened run its course.  If it all ended on Ilos, she didn’t want to squander these last moments alone together. 

The thought was disconcerting.  Shepard wasn’t accustomed to having anything much to lose.

Rather more carefully than she intended, she said, “I keep telling myself we’re doing the right thing.  I’m not sure I believe me yet.”

“If I didn’t think we were doing the right thing, I would have left on the Citadel.”

The mission, then.  She tried not to show her disappointment.  She couldn’t even say what she wanted from him right now, but it wasn’t this.

“This isn’t what I wanted to talk about,” Kaidan said abruptly, as if reading her mind.  He ran the tip of his tongue over his lips.  “I’ve been thinking a lot.  About this, about us.”

“Yeah.”  She slouched a bit.  “Sometimes I think I burn all my timing luck on my professional life.”

“Tell me about it.”  More than a little frustration there, a feeling she shared.

Shepard took another breath, met his eyes.  “I know there are much more important things.  And I know that what happened with- what happened on Virmire can’t happen again.  But sometimes I just wish…”

The statement went unfinished.  With a touch of wistfulness, Shepard tried to shrug it away.

And then suddenly, just before the moment evaporated entirely, Kaidan reached for a bit of bravery- and her hand, his fingers circling hers, thumb pressed into her palm in a way that felt right and oddly anxious.  He took a breath.  “I think about losing you and I can’t stand it.  The galaxy will just keep going.  Everything, even the reapers, will come around again.”  He touched her cheek, gentle, hesitant.  “But you and I, we are important right now.  This is what will never happen again.  Us.”

He was so earnest, as he looked at her, that it made Ilos and Saren and all the rest of it seem small.  She suddenly didn’t care whether confession made her seem weak.  The only real crime would be letting this slip away.  She rested her hand on his chest, feeling the heat of his body through his shirt.  “I’m so glad you were here, through all of this.  I think I would have lost my mind a couple times over by now.”

“Who says you haven’t?” He chuckled, smoothing back her hair.  There was hardly any gap between them now.  “You would have been ok.  You’re strong.”

“Between you and me?  Some days I’m really tired of being strong.”  She looked him over.  “You do ok yourself.”

“I’m not like you.”  Kaidan dropped his hand from her face and glanced away.  “I’ve never… I’ve always been kind of an outsider.  It’s not just the biotics.  The way I think and feel about things… it marks me, you know?”

She did know.  She’d been in the same position, more often than not.  “You have a strength of conviction.  That’s not a vice.  It’s admirable.”

He shook his head.  “I wasn’t totally honest with you earlier, when you asked why I signed up.  Half the reason I wanted to enlist is so I could know, just once, what it was like to be an ordinary person.  Fit in somewhere, just another marine.  But I’m still…”

“Different,” she filled in after a few seconds passed.  Her heart was breaking for him.  She had a feeling this was something he’d never told anyone, not even once, because it was too honest and too vulnerable and he’d had those virtues exploited too many times.

“You make me feel human, Nathaly.”  His gaze returned to her face, and there was wonder in it, edged with just a little bit of fear.  He took a shaky breath.  “Like maybe I have a place to belong after all.”

“Come here.”  Shepard’s throat was almost too stopped up to speak, so she simply wrapped her arms around him.  Somehow it was still not enough.  She wanted- needed- this to be real, if only for one night, if only for a single moment. 

Her voice muffled in his cheek.  “Stay with me tonight.  Please.”

He was returning the embrace so tightly it was difficult to breathe, but she didn’t care in the slightest. 

“It can’t change anything,” he said, but he made no effort to move away.

“I know.”  Her nose brushed his ear.  Desire burned to run her tongue along it, to hear him gasp, make him shiver, smother every guilty instinct telling her this was a bad idea with one intimate touch.  His mouth was at her neck, his breath ragged.

Shepard forcibly drew back, cupping his face with her hands, the texture of his cheeks rough beneath her fingers.  The musky scent of his body filled her nose and went to her head.

He brushed a stray lock of hair off her face, a gesture by now as familiar as it was intimate.  There was no joking now, no playfulness, only the quiet strain of need and intention.  Their eyes met.

Shepard took a final breath.  Leaned across the scant space between them, and kissed him.

He pressed against her, his lips moving against hers.  No hesitancy, but no rush, either.  Just feeling each other.  Getting familiar.  Savoring the feel and the taste, something new and yet somehow completely at home.

Her hand slid to the back of his head, fingers tangling through his hair.  His arms circled her waist.  Worrying at her shirt where it tucked into the band of her pants, just like in the cave on Virmire, wanting her skin and almost taunting himself with it.

But she’d had enough teasing.  She broke the kiss- his mouth trailing after her a moment in surprise at her sudden absence- leaned back just far enough, and pulled her shirt over her head in one smooth movement. 

He shifted her into his lap almost before the collar cleared her head, took the shirt from her and tossed it into the depths of the cabin.  Crushed her to his chest, hands sliding up her back, hungry to touch her.

She kissed him again, lips parted, her tongue pressing at his mouth.  Hands wriggling at his shirt, sliding it up so she could really feel him, flesh on flesh.  He gave way eagerly on both accounts.  His skin where it met hers was fever-hot.  His mouth almost greedy, at her mouth, her neck, down her shoulder in a trail.

And not just his mouth.  She ground her hips, just the slightest bit, and his head tilted back with an irrepressible groan.  “Nathaly-“

That one little word ran like lightening from her ears to her heart and to her groin.  She loved hearing her name.  Not out of vanity- because it said this wasn’t mindless sex, but something she was doing to him, and him to her.  That the fact that it was her mattered because there had been enough times when it didn’t.  She never told anyone that, but somehow he knew, or stumbled over it.  Probably made no difference which.

She didn’t let him recover.  Instead, she brought his mouth back to hers, ground harder, moving in steady circles, flaring with heat and need as she found the perfect spot.  His fingers dug into her back.  Panting.  His hips bucked into hers-

Then she rose up, separating them just the barest inch, and smiled wickedly. 

“Oh, no you don’t,” Kaidan all but growled.  He seized her bra by the band and flipped it over her head without bothering to unclasp it.  She barely got her arms up in time.  As it was still dangling from her wrist, he lowered his head and touched his tongue to her nipple.

Already at attention, the sudden rush of wet, hot pressure against its tip arced down her abdomen and earthed itself deep inside her.  The bra slid to the floor.  Her turn for a long moan.  One hand curled around his neck.

He swirled his tongue around it in a long, dragging stroke.  He knew what he was doing.  She’d wanted him so badly for so long she wouldn’t have cared much if he didn’t, but god she was so happy that wasn’t the case.  It was always the quiet ones.

She could have let him carry on forever.  Or so she thought, until he nibbled, ever-so-gently, and the very last of her patience evaporated in a flash of white heat.  She pulled him up roughly by his hair, kissed him hard.  “This couch is too small for what I’m going to do to you.”

He didn’t have to be told twice.  She got his shirt and undershirt over his head in one movement while he undid the buttons on her pants.  Pulled him upright with her so she could return the favor as he slid them off.  Both of them cursing at their boots, half-laughing, and stepping out of the whole tangled mess at once. 

They left their clothes in a heap, making out in a frenzy all the way to the bed, kissing, stroking, groping, urgent and eager.  Somewhere between breaths she managed, “Look, I don’t have any things, but I have an implant and I haven’t gotten laid in eighteen months so…”

“Mine’s an VDB,” he said, kissing her neck.  “And no comment.”

“Guess we’re good then.”  Her mouth found his, happy to stop talking.  His legs bumped into the mattress.  She hadn’t made the bed and didn’t care.  Shepard pushed him down onto the rumpled sheets and climbed over him.

His arms tightened around her.  She had always loved the feel of him, always felt that they just fit, whether hauling him over some obstacle or leaning on each other in the shuttle bay after Ash died.  It was the same now.  Somehow he knew just where to hold her to press her closest.  Somehow she found the exact right place to put her body so they had full access to each other.  Their legs tangled together.  She left his mouth and kissed the soft place under his jaw, behind his ear, nibbled down his neck.

His thigh rose up between hers and she opened eagerly, pressing against it.  He grinned at her obvious need.  “And here I thought I was the frustrated one.”

She didn’t bother to answer as he flexed his leg and a shiver of pleasure ran up her body.  A few steadying breaths.  “You have no idea.”

“If nothing else,” he said in her ear, his fingers trailing down the small of her back, bumping over hip and sliding between their bodies, feeling her tense with anticipation.  “You’re the one with the private cabin to… work things out.”

“It’s not the same,” she managed, all of her attention on the way his thumb stroked the crease where her leg met her groin.  Surprised she could say that much. 

He paused, for just the briefest moment, like she’d startled him.  Her turn to growl.  “Oh, god, don’t stop now.  Were you expecting me to deny it?”

“Maybe.  I should know better.”  His hand slipped a little further between her legs.  His voice low and gruff and strained.  “Those sleeper pods are terrible, you know.  Sure, the glass opaques, but there’s hardly any room and you never really feel alone.”

Fingers pushing through her folds.  Picking up her wetness.  The words almost a purr in her ear.  “All I could do for months and months was… think.”

She knew it was coming.  Expected it.  But at the very first firm stroke a small explosion tore through her, sub-orgasmic but not by miles, back arching.  She cried out into his shoulder.  Left wanting.  Jerked her hips, needing the real thing.

His breath went ragged, rubbing her with two fingers now, abandoning all pretense.  “Shit, you are unbelievable.”

“Selfish?” she asked, aiming for arch but missing entirely.

“Perfect,” he corrected, and locked her down with his other arm.  His leg slipped over hers and held her fast.

She could do no more than wiggle, her ass suspended in the air, his hand planted firmly at the meeting of her thighs.  Her muscles tensed for an instant, a conditioned response to being immobilized, but she checked the impulse to break free.  It would’ve completely spoiled the mood.  Not to mention broken his rhythm.  Right then, that seemed worse than murder.  It was enough that she could if she needed to.

Oh, god, but she wanted to move.  That familiar feeling was building inside her.  She felt the need to rock herself to it, imitate those ghostly waves of pleasure that would soon- please let it be soon- become real.  Match him stroke for stroke.  Ease just a little of the tension growing in her muscles, radiating from her core.   

But he didn’t loosen his grip by so much as a millimeter, no matter how hard she strained against it.  Didn’t make the smallest adjustment to motion of his hand. 

It was unbearable.  Moans poured from her mouth in little gasps, swallowed by his skin.  Her fingernails dug into his biceps. 

A moment of stillness.  And then it came crashing over her.

She bucked hard and felt his arm slide away.  She had no idea what sounds she made, but when she came back to herself, sweaty and panting, his hand was over her mouth, and he was looking at her with a mixture of naked arousal and alarm. 

She moved up slightly, and kissed him, long and slow and deep.  Affection, amusement, and still more desire.  “Everyone’s asleep.”

“I’m not sure that’s still true.”  But he returned the kiss two fold, tangling his fingers in her hair.  Clearly being overheard wasn’t weighing too heavily on his mind.  His hand ran down her side and kneaded her ass. 

She gave him a softer, lighter kiss, and slid down his chest, leaving a series of wet feathery pecks as she straightened slightly and reached between them.  It felt like the orgasm had barely scratched the surface of her need. 

Her hand closed around him.  His eyelids fluttered as she eased the tip along her slit.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, aware he hadn’t gotten much attention yet.  “I know it’s impolite but I just can’t wait.”

His chest was heaving.  His turn for near-incoherence.  “Who the hell wants you to?”

It was all the encouragement she needed. They both cried out as she took the whole length of him in one stroke.  He sat up as she began to thrust against him, his mouth consuming every inch of her skin.  Nails scraping at her back. 

She rocked faster.  He braced one arm against the bed and started to thrust back, meeting her every stroke.  Forcing her to speed up even more. 

He said something.  Maybe her name again.  Too lost in his own gasps to know for sure.  She seized him by the hair, pulling a muscle of his neck taut, and planted a long nibbling, sucking kiss.  The gasps turned to a drawn-out moan.  His hips grew frantic, pounding into her.

She buried her face in his cheek.  Her mouth at his ear.  Feeling all of him, the urgency of his need in every place they touched.  “Keep going- just like that-“

She slammed back down.  He strained up against her, his whole body tensing for one infinite moment.  Her eyes closed, overwhelmed by the pleasure running through his whole body into hers, culminating where they joined.

Then he all but collapsed back onto the bed, pulling her with him, kissing her face, her forehead, her hair.  She lay against his chest, her breathing slowing back to normal, enjoying him laying soft and still inside her.  Listening to his heart thud beneath her cheek.

His palm skimmed across her sweaty skin.  They were both soaking.  She raised her head slightly, fingers brushing over his lips.  Opened her mouth to say something.  Failed.

He smoothed back her hair.  His voice came out hoarse.  “Worth the wait.”

It wasn’t a question.  But she answered anyway, husky, her throat nearly sore.  “See, all I can think is we could have started doing this a month ago.  Imagine all the sex we missed.”

He chuckled, a sound she felt as much as heard, coming up through his chest.   His mouth sought hers and she gave it to him readily, another deep kiss that seemed to reach all the way down to her core.  She was shocked to feel him stirring faintly.  “Are you sure you’re thirty-two?”

“Not tonight, I’m not,” he growled, and rolled her onto her back.

They worked their way up to a second round, less urgent than the first, really taking the time to become acquainted, until they were all but torturing each other.  By the end they were both thoroughly exhausted, if still not quite completely sated.  Shepard was beginning to believe reaching that point would take years.

It was obvious they were too tired for another, but he joked that they should at least try to go three for three on the primary positions.  Never one to back down from a challenge, she raised herself up on all fours.  She was so sensitive by then that every thrust spiked a small wave of pleasure, alongside a wince of pain as it rolled through her aching muscles- never a particular kink of hers.  Apparently he felt just as raw because he declared victory after only a short while. 

They rolled onto their sides, him withdrawing and spooning her.  She drew his arm around her chest.  He planted a kiss on her shoulder and pulled the bedding over them.  Neither of them felt the need to speak.

In the comfort of that moment and warm shelter of his body, Shepard drifted off to sleep.

/\/\/\/\/\

She woke in a tangle of damp bed sheets and warm Kaidan.  He was still fast asleep, his breath steady against her back.  All was still and quiet in her cabin.  It matched her mood.  Right now, she was at peace.  Memories of earlier wrapped her like a blanket, making love into the night, dozing off and holding each other close, earnestly, until real sleep took them.

She closed her eyes and snuggled into him, wanting the next few minutes before they had to get up to go on forever.  Because she knew what came next.  _Did we really do that?  Were we out of our minds?_

_This will never work.  This can’t happen again._

That was how it always ended- some variant of it, anyway, the same leaden words punctuating different scenery.  That it was happening aboard her ship was new though that only made it worse.  As did the fact that this wasn’t someone she just met and was trying out, hoping it would go somewhere.  Somehow, in the breadth and depth of all they’d been through since leaving Mars, Kaidan became her dearest friend.  Here, lying in his arms in the silence of this room, deep in Terminus space far away from human civilization, it felt like home.

She really, really didn’t want this night, or this mission, to be the end.  She wanted to pretend just a little longer.

The comm came to life in a burst of static.  “Fifteen minutes out, Commander.”

Damn, was it that late already?“Thanks, Joker.”

Kaidan stirred but didn’t wake.  Shepard rolled over until she was facing him, and curled her hand around his, drawing it close to her chest.  He made an annoyed sound and tried to burrow back into the pillow.  Even with her stomach in knots, she chuckled.  He never was an easy riser.  Slowly, his eyes creaked open.

“Good morning,” she said, for lack of anything else to say, and in spite of the fact that by the shipboard clock it was actually closer to noon. 

He looked at her.  She couldn’t read his expression past the tightness in her chest, waiting for him to speak. 

Kaidan brushed his fingers across the freckles on her cheek, and said, sleepily, “I love you.  That was what I came in here to say.”

She stared.  It was the last thing she expected to hear.  A strange feeling was spreading through her, elbowing aside the doubt and worry, and it was so foreign it took her a moment to place it.  It was joy. 

He blinked at her, muzzy-headed.

Shepard wrapped herself around him and kissed him soundly.  He mumbled something against her mouth and reciprocated.

Pressly came over the ship-wide comm.  “ETA to orbit ten minutes.  Crew to your stations.”

That woke Kaidan up.  He swore.  “We need to move.”

“Joker only just woke me, too,” she said by way of apology.  Reluctantly, she disentangled herself and let him go.

She went to a storage compartment and began pulling on a uniform, while behind her Kaidan started hunting around the floor for his clothes. As she tucked in her shirt and turned around, she found him perched on the arm of the couch, watching her with his pants still in hand.  Shepard’s look was bemused.  “Kaidan, we have to get suited up.”

He blinked and gave himself a shake.  “Sorry, I just- you’re really nice to look at.”

She blushed, but was spared a response as Joker once again made use of the intercom.  “Commander, we’re five minutes out.  We could use you on the bridge if it’s not, you know, interfering with your primping or anything.”

Shepard glanced at the ceiling with pure exasperation.  Kaidan laughed.  “Alright, we need to go.”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking him over slowly as he pulled on his pants.  “Five minutes is a long time.”

“Nathaly-“

“Oh, alright.”  She stuck her tongue out at him.  “Hell with you anyway.”

But she couldn’t resist pulling him close for one last kiss before she sped out the door.

Exactly four minutes and thirty-two seconds later, she was standing on the bridge in her hardsuit.  There was no time for a shower, and so the dried, mingled sweat of last evening still clung to her skin like filmy lingerie.  She wondered if anyone could notice.  It made her feel strangely daring and incredibly sexy, and at that moment, she felt like she could take Sovereign apart with her bare hands if she had to.

“Dropping out of FTL on my mark, ma’am,” Joker said as she came up behind him.  “Let’s get a look at what’s out there.”

He counted down the seconds evenly, and abruptly the plasma wash cleared.  Shepard gasped.  She wasn’t the only one.

Spread out ahead of them was the full might of Saren’s fleet.  Sovereign hovered at center, a wasp preening over its hive, while arrayed all about it were geth ships, similar to the one they destroyed on Feros.  Each could hold a hundred geth units or more.  Smaller ships flit between them, and streamed down upon the planet’s surface. 

“IES fully engaged,” Pressly reported before she could ask, leaning down to view one of the bridge terminals.  “They haven’t spotted us.”

Shepard bent to get a better visual.  They were on the night side of Ilos; the ground was shrouded in darkness, though here and there, fires burned upon unseen plains.  Sensors revealed the atmosphere was super-oxygenated and prone to storms.  Lightning ignited the grass, and some of the wildfires looked as if they would burn for years.

Kaidan finally joined them, strapping on the last of his suit armor.  His mouth dropped open.  “My god.”

Liara took an unconscious step towards the port.  “What are we supposed to do against all that?”

“Picking up some strange readings from the surface,” Pressly interrupted, frowning.  He tapped a few keys. 

“That’s our target, then.”  Shepard glanced at her pilot.  There was no time for any deeper strategy.  “Joker, lock in on those coordinates.”

Pressly shook his head.  “Negative on that, ma’am.  The nearest landing zone’s eight klicks away.”

Her spirits sank.  “That’s not good enough.”

Kaidan echoed her thoughts.  “We’ll never make it on time on foot.  Find us something closer.”

The _Normandy_ continued sailing towards the geth fleet.  Their window of opportunity was closing.  Pressly, rankled by what sounded very much like an order from a junior officer, and strained by the urgency of the situation, snapped, “There is nowhere closer!  I’ve checked the whole field.”

Tali crowded in.  “Let me try.”

Shepard rubbed her nose.  She hoped to land the ship, so that everyone would be available for this, the last and hardest push.  But she wasted no time complaining.  “Drop us in the Mako.”

Pressly surrendered the terminal Tali, disgusted.  “You need at least one hundred meters of open terrain to land a Mako.  The most I can find near Saren is twenty.  If that signal is Saren.”

It was Physics 101.  Drop the Mako too steeply, and it wouldn’t be able to slow its descent sufficiently to land without killing its crew.  The shallower the drop, the longer it would need to roll to kill its momentum upon hitting the ground. 

Kaidan paled.  “Twenty meters?”

“If the Mako didn’t have to fall quite so far, maybe-“ Tali began, but Alenko was already shaking his head.

“The ship will never get close enough,” he said flatly.

Liara swiveled towards them, her face drawn.  “We have to try.”

“It’s Saren,” Shepard said, reaching the end of a thought.  There was no proof- but every instinct, every drop of experience she had, said that rogue signal was their enemy.  Her gaze cut to Pressly.  “Find another landing zone.”

His arms flew up, an expression of futility.  “There is no other landing zone!  The descent angle’s far too steep-”

Liara clasped her hands.  “It’s our only option.”

Kaidan shot her a glare.  “It’s not an option.  It’s suicide!  We don’t-“

Four words cut short the tension and rising panic.  “I can do it.”

The argument died.  Everyone turned to stare.  Shepard licked her lips.  “Joker-“

The pilot’s eyes never left his instruments.  Sweat beaded his forehead, but his voice remained steady, firm.  “I can do it.  Just don’t overload the damn Mako this time.”

“Right.”  She nodded and her attention snapped to her team.  “Liara, Kaidan- with me.  Now.  Joker- I want my tank to hit that bastard’s head on the way down.”

He smiled grimly.  “Yes, ma’am.”

Shepard wouldn’t run, not for Saren, and so she walked with deliberation across the CIC and down to the elevator.  Alenko glanced at her, the question written on his face.

“Liara knows more about the Protheans than the rest of us put together.  I need her.” 

Beside her, Liara blushed, always self-conscious at the first sign of a compliment.  Shepard paused.  “And if not for your overactive curiosity back on Eden Prime, none of us would be here now.  You deserve to be there when it ends.”

“My overactive curiosity almost got you killed, activating that beacon,” he pointed out.

She waved a hand, dismissive.  The elevator opened onto the lower deck.  “Let’s get this done.”

They loaded into the Mako and strapped down.  Shepard turned her head to peer out the side port of the chute, out in the blackness of space.

Joker came in hard and fast, skimming through the upper atmosphere to foil the geth sensors.  The last thing they needed was an orbital strike.  They passed through the terminator- the line between night and day- and in the fresh dawn Shepard could see rust-red earth poking out between a bounty of ferns and brush.   In the distance was a concrete city fallen into disrepair, its graceful spires with their fishtail bottoms crumbled into ruin.  There were no lights, no energy; only pink sunlight and silence.

“There won’t be any animals,” Liara whispered.  Her hands gripped the edge of her seat so tightly her knuckles must be white beneath the gloves.  “Whatever spiked the soil like that would have killed off complex life.”

Kaidan was in the back this time.  Liara had no experience on the gun.  “Think that’s our destination?”

“I doubt the Conduit is simply laying out somewhere,” Shepard said, and then the forward hatch opened, and the Mako rolled out onto thin air.

Shepard was no novice when it came to combat drops.  Making planetfall in a Mako was routine.  By turns she’d parachuted, flown, crash-landed, and on one memorable occasion, on a world known for its light-element mines, ridden a dirigible from one cloud-station to the next.  And the Mako’s high-mounted ports made it impossible to see the ground beneath them as they fell.  But she could not avoid noticing the regrettable horizon, far, far too near, nor the fact that it vanished almost instantaneously in a tangle of buildings, nor the suicidal speed of their drop.  Their trajectory was near vertical, with almost zero forward momentum.  Joker was cutting it very fine.

She did not close her eyes.  If they survived, she suspected she’d need them immediately upon reaching the ground.  But she recited under her breath.  “Inertial dampeners can cancel thirty gees.  Retrorocket can decelerate at a rate of…”

The _Normandy’s_ wake buffeted their tiny craft as the ship passed too closely overhead.  They fell like a stone. 

Just before they hit bottom, the height and closeness of the Prothean city cut off the light.  A shadow fell across her face.  The struck the earth with enough force to crack her teeth together.  Her skull bounced off the headrest.  It wasn’t a particularly hard hit, but with her accumulated injuries, her vision went gray, just long enough to really scare her.

They were still moving forward under the momentum of the drop.  Pressly’s vaunted twenty meters.

“Shepard!” Liara cried.

The commander shook her head and tried to peer out. 

Directly before them stood Saren Arterius with a squadron of geth, staring open-mouthed at the rushing tank.  Staring at her.  He called something unintelligible to his soldiers, and the geth began to scatter.  He took a step backwards.  A hatch began to close between them.

Which was when Shepard realized the tank showed no sign of slowing, and they’d just lost five meters of terrain. 

Liara, unthinking in her terror, reached over and gripped her arm.  “Shepard!”

“I see it, I see it,” she muttered, struggling to control the tank with Liara hampering her movements, laying on the brake as much as she dared.  If she exerted too much force she could spin the Mako hard enough to flip it, and the roof was a crush zone second to none.

Alenko stared into the gun’s camera sights.  “Hostiles straight ahead, ten and two o’clock!”

“Then fucking shoot them!” she exploded, with no concentration to spare.  Her hands were full enough already.  Maybe, with a little luck, the artillery would slow them a bit.

The cannon boomed.  The geth heavy standing starboard crumpled.  The Mako clipped the other as it stormed past, sending it flying.  Alenko tracked it with the gun.  “All targets down.”

Shepard abandoned all caution and slammed the brake.  The hatch was coming up fast, too fast.

With only centimeters to spare, the tank slowly, achingly, ground to a halt.  Her hands went slack on the controls.  She slumped in her seat.  Liara gasped for air, as if she’d been holding her breath.  In the back, Kaidan slid down the platform to the floor.  For a few long moments, there was no sound but their own heavy breathing as they recovered from the rough landing.

They were on Ilos.


	52. Race to the Conduit

They exited the Mako to inspect the hatch barring their way.

Shepard knelt beside it and shook her head.  “There’s no blasting our way through this.”

Twenty solid centimeters of reinforced Prothean concrete guarded the way, the same stuff that kept their cities standing for fifty thousand years.  More like a blast door than a hatch.  Her eyes narrowed.  There was something down that passage, something the Protheans deemed worthy of considerable protection.  The Conduit?  Maybe.  This place had a feel to it, like there were a lot of secrets buried in its halls.

Kaidan rapped the stonework with his knuckles, frowning in concentration.  “Saren found a way inside.  There’s got to be a power station, or an override, or something nearby.”

Liara revolved slowly in place, staring up in awe at the slender towers rising overhead.  A hush hung in the air, like old libraries, dust motes spinning in the shafts of sunlight trickling between the ancient skyscrapers.  The buildings were ramrod straight, with dual wings sweeping out from each side.  Shepard recognized in them the same shape as the beacons, though vastly larger in scale. 

Piles of loose red soil had blown in and accumulated in dunes and drifts over the eons, enriched by the ash of fires past.  Bright green foliage carpeted the area.  Evidently, even the thin trickles of light penetrating the press of buildings and looping vines was sufficient to sustain life.  Dead plant matter crunched beneath Shepard’s boots.  Dry, then; she hoped the lightning storms were a good distance off.  This matted fiber looked like it would burn quite well.  And if Liara was right about the fauna, there was nothing beyond bacteria alive on Ilos to thin it out.

They stood in a courtyard.  Overhead, walkways once permitted travel from one tower to the next, though most had crumbled into ruin.  Others were overrun by yet more ferns.  The foundations of buildings long eroded into nothing served as retaining walls, rising a meter or so above the dirt. 

“Ilos,” Liara breathed.  Her eyes were so wide Shepard could see the white all around the irises, though they were suffused with wonder, not fear.  “There’s so much history here.  So much to learn.”

Kaidan shivered.  “Feels like I’m walking over a grave.”

Shepard spied something just ahead, half-hidden behind a pillar in a tangle of creeping vines.  “Two graves.”

Liara came back to herself, and blinked.  “What do you mean?”

They tromped forward.  Shepard cleared some of the plants.  “I’ve seen Protheans, through the beacon.”  She didn’t mention it was at the moment of their brutal deaths.  “This doesn’t resemble them, not even a little.”

A carved humanoid figure sat on a throne, or at least a heavy chair, its high domed head bowed as though in sorrow.  A mass of tentacles dangled from its face like a beard.  Its hands lay flat upon the curved arms of the chair, the body quite frail beneath that ponderous head, clothed in a thin, loose robe of stone.  The statue reeked of age.  Older, perhaps, even than the ancient city that grew up around it.  Weather had melted its edges into soft contours.

“It’s an illithid,” Kaidan said suddenly.

Both Liara and Shepard turned to stare at him.  Shepard’s brow creased.  “A what?”

“Is that some sort of alien species?” Liara asked.

His face reddened.  “It’s a… kind of monster.  Never mind.”

“Doesn’t seem like the Protheans agreed.”  Shepard brushed aside another clump of vines.  “This feels more like an honorific.  A symbol of wisdom, or learning.”

“There are at least a dozen species traveling the galaxy today,” Kaidan stated, though he sounded less than certain.  “Surely it was the same in the Prothean era.”

Liara laid a tentative, almost reverential hand upon the statue.  “There are no records of any species not Prothean alive at that time.  Archaeologists have always found that curious.  Oh, I wish I had more time to study all this.”

“Maybe one day,” Kaidan said.  There was a trace of regret in him as well. 

Shepard took one last look at the statue and drew her rifle.  “Move out.”

They advanced into the dead city.  It was strangely silent.  Forsaken trees, leafless, dotted the landscape here and there with limbs like spears heaving at the orange sky.  Roots longer than Shepard was tall and twice as thick around wrapped about broken stones.  Everywhere was green and brown and rust. 

The squad descended into a narrow passage, following it parallel to Saren’s corridor.  All they could do was hope that it would lead them to a control station.  Along the way they passed numerous terminals, most powered down, but some blinking with green light.  Shepard tried one and could get no intelligible information from it. 

Kaidan was encouraged nonetheless.  “This place still has power.  It must be running off its own generator.  Wind-driven, maybe.”

“Not much power.”  Shepard shook her head, frustrated.  She could hear geth moving behind the walls, out of sight.  It made her back itch, right between the shoulder blades.  The city at ground level was a maze.  They could encounter hostile troops at any time.

Liara held her pistol with both hands, pointed at the ground, craning her neck.  “Look.  An elevator.”

There was indeed a set of doors and a control panel that resembled what Shepard knew as an elevator.  It seemed wrong, somehow, that the Protheans should have devices so similar to the inventions of humans, asari, turians, and so on down the line.  Surely there was more than one way to design a lift?

Between it and the squad was a large public square.  Thick columns lined the path.  Shepard frowned.  “Nice place for an ambush.”

“I don’t see any way around it.”  Kaidan was likewise uneasy, his rifle pointed cautiously ahead.

“Be on your guard.”  Shepard headed into the open. 

Nothing showed on the scanner.  That didn’t mean much; the geth possessed cloaking technology, and there was so much debris that interference was a serious concern.  She peered into every shadow and moved forward slowly, ready to act in an instant.  Liara and Kaidan followed, monitoring their flank.

They were halfway across when the column nearest Shepard exploded as a high-caliber round struck its face.  Concrete shrapnel stung her cheek.  The geth rose out of the ferns and trees and descended upon them in a vengeful tide.

She was already diving forward.  A second sniper round left another crater in the column.  Rifle and machine gun fire joined it, turning the path into a deadly trap.  Geth advanced on both flanks, leaving them no cover and few opportunities.

Shepard could see only one way out.  “Run!”

Kaidan and Liara streaked past her.  She turned and laid down a few sweeps of indiscriminate cover fire, letting her squad gain some ground, before her shield failed and she followed after them.  Her legs burned as she made for the far end of the path.  Here, on this oxygen-rich planet, her only limitation was her lung capacity.  She felt as though she were flying. 

Liara stumbled on a tree branch tangled in the detritus.  Shepard hauled her up by her shoulder.  “Come on!”

She half-dragged her towards the lift.  The geth tagged her twice, but the armor did its job.  The attack grew more brutal by the second.

Kaidan fired from the elevator alcove, attempting to relieve some of the pressure.  “They’re closing in!”

Shepard dropped Liara into the relative protection of the shadowed niche, plastered her back to the wall, and started driving back the geth.  The nearest were no more than ten meters away. 

They were better off than on Virmire, though they faced more geth.  They had real cover and once Liara got her breath back, she began controlling the field with her biotics.  Shepard concentrated on the units that escaped her singularities.  Kaidan used his own abilities to knock back any geth who got too close.

The geth gave them no margin for error.  The machines didn’t tire, and gave up their operational functionality to gain a tactical advantage.  She imagined it must be a strange bargain between processing power and strategic sacrifice.  At least these ones didn’t bring rocket troops.

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than a wave of reinforcements arrived- including two bearing shoulder-mounted rocket launchers.  Shepard drew back into the shadow of the elevator alcove just as the first rocket struck the frame.  Dust fell down on their heads.

Kaidan shot at the unit.  It ducked behind a pillar.  “Might I suggest a strategic retreat?”

“Way ahead of you.”  Shepard banged her gloved hand against the elevator call button and hoped like hell it was still powered up. 

They were in luck.  Only a few seconds later, the doors sprang open.  Shepard waved them inside.  “Go, go!”

They stepped inside and held down their triggers, full-throttle, for three endless seconds while they waited for the doors to close.  As the elevator finally began to ascend Shepard drew a deep breath.  Liara rubbed her forehead. 

Kaidan slumped against the back wall, massaging his leg with a grimace.

“Status?” Shepard asked sharply.

He shook his head dismissively.  She expelled a sigh.  “Kaidan-“

“The doc cleared me for combat duty,” he said, meeting her eyes, sullen.  “The leg just hasn’t been pushed like this since I was injured.  I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t press him, because they were in the middle of a warzone and it was a little late to worry.  Kaidan didn’t mistake her lack of further questioning for acceptance.  “Nathaly, I wouldn’t put you in that position again.”

After a moment, Shepard decided now wasn’t the time for unnecessary heaviness, either.  She relaxed.  “Yeah, I guess if I save your ass too many more times it’s going to start to look like a habit.”

A burst of laughter escaped Liara before her hand reached her mouth.  Kaidan sputtered.  Shepard grinned and turned back to the door.

“Alright,” he conceded.  Then he grinned at her.  “It’s not my fault.  You drove me to desperate measures to get your attention.”

She snorted.  “Right.”

The doors opened onto a new plaza of dead ferns and forgotten buildings.  It all looked the same to Shepard.  “Liara, do you have any idea where a control room might be?”

“This is one of the best-preserved Prothean sites I’ve visited.  Certainly the largest.”  She pursed her lips.  “You must understand, an archaeologist might go her entire career without personally discovering any functional Prothean technology.  We know very little of their organizational structure.”

An ages' worth of wind-borne dust slumped against the buildings.  They were forced to clamor up a hill of loose soil, their boots sliding on the loam.  Half-buried hatches peeked over the surface.  “I wonder how much of this place is underground now.  That elevator seemed to move sideways as much as vertically.”

“Hard to say.”  Kaidan kept his rifle pointed warily.  “I hope they kept the Conduit on high ground.”

Shepard pressed forward.  “No sign of it yet.  Saren’s going to pick it up and head straight for the Citadel, I know it.”

“We don’t even know what the Conduit does,” Liara protested.

“If the reapers want to… to purge the galaxy, they’ll start with the head and work their way down.  Basic tactics.” 

“Look sharp,” Kaidan said.  He gestured with the gun.  “Something’s passed this way.  Kicked up the leaf litter.”

Shepard brushed passed him, crouching low, and scanned the terrain with the strangest feeling of déjà vu.  They could have been back in the rolling hills of Eden Prime, beneath a torched orange sky, her and Kaidan and Jenkins, moving unwittingly towards a geth ambush.  A wave of something like homesickness followed it, a longing for simplicity and ignorance.  If they’d known back on Mars that not six months later they would be standing in a Prothean ruin defending the galaxy from certain destruction, just three people on the ground and one measly frigate hiding from an entire fleet…

Liara touched her arm.  “Shepard?”

She shook off the feeling and glanced at her omni-tool scanner.  “There’s some kind of warehouse ahead.  Lots of broken columns for cover.  I’m guessing a squadron of geth?”

Kaidan followed her gaze.  “There’s an overlook.  I can see lights inside.”

Liara checked her pistol’s heat sink.  “If it has electricity…”

“Could be that control room,” Shepard finished.  She glanced at the Mako’s position on her map.  “We’re higher up, but not far from that hatch.  I’ll move up first, then Kaidan.  Liara, stay back and hit them with everything you’ve got.  Keep them off us.”

“Understood.”  Liara stopped fidgeting with the weapon and turned her attention ahead.

Shepard took a breath and scuttled forward through the gaping warehouse door, keeping in cover as best she could.  Windows laid into the vaulting roof shed blocks of sunshine on the dirt-strewn floor and across tangles of vegetation.  Even inside, nothing escaped the inexorable grip of the vines.  Hexagonal forcefields shimmered in the air.  The geth kept to their cover, utterly still in anticipation of their arrival.  The only sounds were their boots on the concrete and Kaidan’s anxious breathing a few paces behind her. 

Her heart was racing.  They were so close to the end now.  Just get that hatch open and Saren would be in her reach.  One last fight…

Though she kept quiet as she could, silence was impossible, and the geth were expecting them.  Her foot dislodged an ancient bit of stone.  It clattered against the floor.

Enemies erupted from all corners of the room.

Shepard dove for the cover of a fallen column.  Though she really couldn’t spare the concentration, she glanced over her shoulder to check that Kaidan was secure.  Maybe it was just last night, but what he said about his leg was accurate- she was being far more protective of him than either of them could afford.

The momentary distraction cost her dearly.  Geth flanked her position. 

“Need a little help!”  She fired blindly, stumbling back.  The geth advanced with a relentless calm.

Kaidan’s throw scraped them over the top of the stone, and scarcely half a breath later a ball of raw, barely-constrained biotic energy from Liara caught one dead center.  The subsequent explosion tossed Shepard face-down into the dirt, so loud that dust rained from the roof.

Bits of geth pelted the ground.  She covered her head with her hands.  _Damn_.

A particularly jagged piece bounced off her lower back and left her smarting.  Another struck her shoulder.  _When this is over, I’m taking the longest, hottest bath creation has ever known._

Bullets chewed up the floor around her.  Shepard scrambled to her feet and scuttled towards the safety of another column.

The geth were entrenched, and defending every last inch of terrain.  Either this was the control room, or someplace equally important to Saren’s strategy.  Nevertheless, they were making steady progress in their assault of the geth position- until a rumbling towards the back interrupted the fight.

In the chaos it took a second for Shepard to realize it was formed of footsteps, the impact of two giant feet trudging through dust and vines and stone.  It was a few moments more before it stepped into the light. 

The machine was the perfection of its kind.  Towering over four meters tall and weighing more than a ton, its white chassis gleaming in the thin sunshine, the geth raised its massive flashlight head as though sniffing at the breeze.  The rifle clutched effortlessly in its spindly hands was the length of Shepard’s leg and of a caliber more akin to “artillery shell” than “bullet”.  As it passed the ranks of ordinary geth, they stood a bit straighter.  If they were human, they would have been cheering- and saluting.

It turned to Shepard and fired a laser pulse that melted clean through her concrete barricade.

She yelped and leapt away.  A second blast followed her, narrowly avoiding a direct hit. 

Liara raked it with dark energy.  It didn’t even scratch the thing’s paint.  “It’s shielded!”

Damn good shielding, too.  Shepard continued to circle around.  Stopping with that thing on her tail was choosing to die.  She needed a plan, and quickly, but between evading that laser cannon and defending herself from the rest of the geth, she could barely think.

The enclosed overlook at the far end of the warehouse caught her eye.  “Distract it!”

“Copy that.”  Kaidan didn’t ask how, for which she was grateful.  Shepard hugged her rifle to her chest and scurried ahead.

Several of the standard geth units crossed her path and were easily dispatched.  Whatever Kaidan was doing, it was effective, because the big one was all but ignoring her.  She straightened just in time to see a piece of rubble the size of a shopping cart fly through the air and strike the machine.  It stumbled under the force of the blow.

No damage, though, she noted grimly.  All the attacks were doing was provoking the geth.  They went berserk at the sight of the assault.  Kaidan and Liara would be hard-pressed to keep up, and soon, Shepard knew, their scant cover would reach its end.  She had to find a way to take out the heavy before that happened.

A ramp at the back of the warehouse led up to the overlook.  A bank of ancient controls awaited her, flickering with green light.  Whatever power remained in this facility was failing.  Her eyes devoured the console, desperate for anything that might provide a solution.

Outside, the battle grew more desperate.  Her head jerked up as a titanic crash brought down half the roof.  A careless laser blast had melted through a column.  Kaidan and Liara scrambled back, a pair of dusty figures dwarfed by debris.  The geth surged after them.

But the new sunlight revealed something else.  Running along the warehouse ceiling, high overhead and listing badly, was a crane.

Prothean technology never ceased to amaze Shepard.  Even if the relays were attributed to the reapers, the fact that after fifty thousand years their buildings still stood, their elevators still ran, and occasionally their computers and power generators still functioned defied rational explanation.  The materials science alone must be a paradigm shift ahead of human tech.

Shepard wasn’t about to let it go to waste.  Her eyes flicked over the controls, not questioning that somehow the console was legible, no matter the disturbing tracks that train of thought left behind.  They landed on a holographic touchpad.

The crane wailed and shrieked into motion with all the glacial reluctance of a continental collision.  Inch by aching inch, it crept along its track as Shepard tapped the button, coaxing it as quickly as she dared.  If it stalled out, she had no backup plan.  As it stuttered ahead, she hit a second key to lower the hook.

By the time it reached the largest geth unit, it was speeding along the track at a good clip.  The hook and cable slammed into the machine.  It barely flinched.  Shepard pursed her lips and reversed the motion.

This time, it caught against the chassis.  The geth twisted, attempting to jerk free, but only succeeded in entangling itself with the cable.  Shepard assisted it gladly, dragging the crane back and forth until it was quite secure.  Then she began to raise it.

The geth redoubled its efforts to fight back.  With arms almost immobilized, it only succeeded at shooting the ceiling, widening the hole.  It danced in midair.  Before any part of the crane assembly could fail, Shepard shot at the unit through the glass of the control room.  The geth’s shields collapsed.  A lucky hit a second later took out the generator.

Bogged down by the lesser geth, it took the shower of sparks to alert her squad that she’d snared her target.  Their fire joined hers.  With an electronic screech that shook the rafters, the machine succumbed to the assault at last.  The deactivated shell hung limp as it revolved on the end of the line.

After that, there was only mop-up. 

When it was over, Kaidan and Liara joined her in the control room.  Liara sized it up.  “This looks like the command center for the entire complex.  Saren’s troops must have sealed the doors from here after he went inside.”

“Talk about bad timing.”  Shepard sighed, recalling the reckless drop from the _Normandy_.  “Let’s get that hatch open.”

Kaidan frowned at the controls.  “How did you use this?”

“What?”  She was momentarily derailed.

“I can’t make head or tail of it.  It all looks the same.”  He gestured at the panel, frustrated.

Shepard glanced from him to the interface, bewildered.  “I’ll have a look, then.”

Liara peered over her shoulder.  “That’s a Prothean terminal.  And it’s still active!”

The squat pedestal indeed had a burst of holographic static hovering over it.  In her haste, Shepard overlooked it before.  She spied an activation switch and toggled it on.

The cloud of orange particles intensified.  A garbled message played.  “Too late…  overrun… Reapers…”

“Extraordinary,” Liara breathed, drifting towards the display.  “A functional Prothean computer system.  I can’t make out much- something to do with time- so little of their language has survived-”

Shepard’s brow wrinkled.  “What are you talking about?  There’s some kind of translator program in this thing.”

“Yeah, the Protheans built a program to translate to a language that didn’t exist while they were alive.”  Kaidan looked at her like she lost her mind.  “This whole system is in Prothean, Nathaly.  How the hell did you find the crane controls?”

“You can’t read them?”

“You can?”

“Of course,” Liara said suddenly.  “The Cipher- it would have given you an understanding of their language.  Perhaps that’s why the second beacon was so much clearer.”

“If I could speak Prothean, wouldn’t I know?”  Her tone was testy, but her mind was already lining up the logic.  Shepard hadn’t begun to plumb the depths of the Cipher’s information.  Most of it was in half-remembered dreams; it seemed like she could scarcely touch it with her conscious mind. 

She squinted at the controls, blurring them a bit, trying hard to see the labels as lines and curves rather than writing.  “Alright… maybe…”

“Play the whole thing back,” Liara requested.

“We need to catch up with Saren,” Kaidan said, with a touch of urgency.  “I’m sure the scientists will want to have a look at this place after this is all over.”

Shepard licked her lips, and reset the system.  The message began to play once more.  “Too late…  overrun… Reapers… -ot safe… refuge… -side archives…”

“It’s a warning.”  Shepard closed her eyes, straining her ears against the static.  “This is the from the reaper invasion.”

“Citadel… overwhelming… only hope…”  The image flicked and danced with the wavering volume. 

“Can you make out anything useful?” Kaidan asked.

“…Conduit… desperation… retreat…”

She shook her head.  “It mentioned the Conduit, something about retreating to the archives, wherever they are.  It’s too degraded to be much use.  We should go.”

He set his rifle and turned towards the door.  “Back to the Mako?”

Shepard found the switch to open the hatch.  A vibration shuddered through the walls.  “As fast we can.”

The fading voice of the warning followed them down the ramp.  “…cannot be stopped… cannot be stopped…”

She couldn’t repress a shudder as they fled the warehouse for good.

The return journey was considerably faster.  Most of the geth resistance was gone.  They avoided the elevator in favor of a series of sloping halls that turned out to be both faster and less heavily patrolled.  All the same, Shepard was glad to see the Mako again.  It would be a long walk underground without it.

Ahead of the tank, the tunnel sloped away into the shadows.

Kaidan glanced between the gaping hatch and the quiescent Mako.  “Who votes we take the heavy artillery into the creepy bunker?”

“The firepower should come in handy,” Shepard said, her voice dry, as she hauled herself up into the driver’s seat.

Liara swung up beside her.  “If Saren has already reached the Conduit, we could be driving into a trap.”

“No.”  Shepard’s mouth thinned into a grim line.  “We’re definitely driving into a trap.”

Her foot tapped the accelerator and they rolled down into the depths.

Buildings rose up on either side, sheer manmade cliffs dressed with crossbeams and metal lattices.  Oval cylinders punctured the sides, unlike any decoration Shepard had ever seen.  Nature, too, had its say; roots and vines climbed the walls eagerly while the tank splashed through stagnant water.  The only light came from rectangular windows far overhead, laying blocks of sunshine over the dirt.  This sector of the city was dank and cheerless.  For a long time, the sole sound was the Mako’s wheels churning through the mud.

Eventually, if only to break the unbearable silence, Liara said, “I never dreamed I would discover anything like this.  This bunker might be the last refuge of their entire species.  Imagine the secrets that must lie buried here.”

“Like the Conduit?” The sarcasm flew out of her mouth before Shepard could think better of it.  Liara looked down at her lap.

Kaidan made a feeble attempt to restore the peace.  “It’s a shame you had to find this place in these circumstances, but we need to keep perspective.”

“I am sorry.  I cannot help but be swept away by all this.”  She took a breath.  “I think a part of me wants to pretend this is just another dig.”

There wasn’t any decent reply.  Shepard kept driving.  Kaidan changed the subject.  “What are all those things hanging off the walls?  Some kind of storage unit?”

Liara peered through the forward port as if noticing them for the first time.  Her voice grew hushed.  “No… no, I think they’re stasis pods.”

Shepard was so startled that she stopped the tank.  “Stasis pods?  You mean cryogenic freezing- deep sleep?”

Early in their expansion, before they discovered the Mars archives, humans had experimented with extending their own lifespans by hundreds or even thousands of years through freezing, preparation for long subluminal journeys between the stars.  While that proved unnecessary, the Alliance continued to develop the technique, aware of the possible medical applications.  Holding a gravely wounded soldier in stasis until they could be brought to a proper facility could save lives.

Liara’s eyes were perfectly round.  “They must have tried to keep themselves alive through the centuries.  It was their last hope.”

Kaidan crowded forward to get a better look.  “So there could be living Protheans here?”

“I…”  She trailed off.  “I do not think it likely.  The power is failing.  All these pods appear to be dead.  This bunker became their tomb.”

“But there are hundreds of these pods,” he protested.  “Maybe thousands.  They can’t all be dead.”

Shepard started forward again.  “Maybe they couldn’t outsmart the reapers after all.  Or maybe Sovereign seized the chance to kill off the only people who could help us.”

There wasn’t anything to say to that.  They drove on.

Saren either had no time or inclination to leave many defenses behind as he advanced through the tunnels.  The occasional pocket of geth was no match for the Mako’s cannon or Shepard’s brand of melee tank combat.  It was a token resistance- just enough to remind them that he still had the lead.  Shepard lost track of how far they travelled.  It seemed as though the bunker would never end.

After a while, Shepard straightened in her seat.  “Some kind of barrier ahead.”

It didn’t look like geth or Council technology.  A sheet of golden light hung between the walls, reaching from ground to roof, billowing in a nonexistent breeze. 

“This doesn’t look like Saren’s work,” Kaidan said, though with a touch of uncertainty.

They slowed as they approached.  The barrier showed no sign of dissipating.  She frowned.  “I’ll get out and have a look-“

“Shepard!”  Liara’s hands flew over the navigation panel.

“Hostiles?” she asked, already beginning to turn the tank.

“No- all the instruments have gone out.  I’m only getting static.”

As the tunnel behind them swung into view, Shepard groaned.  “I think I know why.”

The passage back was blocked by a second golden barrier.  They were trapped in a corridor no more than twenty meters long.

Shepard cursed and tumbled out of the Mako.  Liara and Kaidan followed.  She stalked up to the barrier until her nose was all but pressed against it and craned her neck.  “I don’t see any generators.  It’s coming from inside the ruins.”

“Definitely not Saren then.”  Kaidan stared up towards the roof, as if searching for a way to climb out.

“Over here,” Liara called from the opposite side of the tank.  “There’s a door.”

“We continue on foot,” Shepard said, drawing her rifle.

The darkened tunnel was carpeted in ferns and smelled of dank.  Slimy mold slickened the ground.  Shepard was forced to walk slowly, activating the flashlight mounted on her gun when the light from the corridor faded.  Water dripped.

The tunnel dead-ended in a tangle of roots.  “Damn it.”

“There’s got to be a way out.”  Kaidan’s flashlight drifted over the walls and roof.  “Doors don’t lead to nowhere.”

“It’s been fifty thousand years since anyone stood here,” Shepard said.  “The exit could be buried under dirt or vines or just grown into the wall.”

It was hard not to feel despondent.  Saren already had a huge lead, after how long it took to open that hatch, and this problem didn’t appear to have any quick solutions.  On top of that, they were no closer to understanding the nature or purpose of the Conduit than when they arrived.  If she had at least that much, she would be able to gauge the consequences of their slow progress.

Shepard kicked at a fern, frustrated beyond measure, but the plant offered no purchase and she only succeeded in stubbing the toe of her boot against the wall.  It didn’t hurt; the hardsuit offered excellent protection from such minor damage.  But it soured her temper.

Kaidan caught the look on her face and tried to head off the coming storm.  “We didn’t test the barrier.  Maybe we can wear it down.”

“And meanwhile we’ll have cannon blasts ricocheting around the chamber with our asses hanging out?”

“We could hide in this tunnel.  Rig the Mako to fire remotely.” 

Liara continued to examine the tunnel walls.  “What kind of corridor dead ends into a cube?”

Shepard rubbed her forehead.  “What?”

“The ground slopes down until here.”  Liara indicated a spot with her foot.  “Leaving this space at the end, level and possessing the same area on all five sides.  What does that sound like?”

She began brushing at the moss coating the walls, peeling it off in great sheets.  Shepard’s fraying patience snapped.  “We don’t have time for housekeeping.”

Undaunted, Liara continued to work, until she tugged aside a patch near the front and revealed a glowing green touchpad.  “There.”

Kaidan blinked.  “It’s an elevator.”

“With the doors stuck open,” Shepard said as understanding dawned.

Liara flashed a smile, small, hesitant.  “Help me clear the rest so can see where this leads.”

It took the three of them only a few minutes to remove the overgrowth.  The shape of the elevator began to emerge.  Beneath the layers of time, it was surprisingly clean, uniform even.  But the only light that worked was diffuse glow of the controls.  The elevator shaft loomed above them, a blackened pit, as they descended into the depths of the ground.

The doors opened onto a tall, narrow cave of rough-hewn stone.  A metal ramp sloped down maybe fifty paces.  At the bottom, a terminal sat on a circular platform bathed in the same warm golden light as the barriers back on the road.  The crevasse was so deep that Shepard couldn’t see ceiling or floor.  As they stepped out of the elevator, the ramp shook alarmingly.

Liara gripped the rail.  “I’ve studied the Protheans for decades, but I’ve never felt this sense of foreboding.”

Shepard felt it, too, a weighted hush or gravitas implying something of great importance was about to happen in this room- the kind of event that could cause a whole civilization to hold its breath for fifty thousand years.  It had ridden her since the Mako fell out of the Ilos sky.  Those barriers came from within the city.  Something, not turian, not geth, not reaper, but Prothean, set them off.

She never wanted any part of a thing like that.  She wasn’t a prophet, or a savior, or the pawn of a destiny greater than herself.  She was, fundamentally, a soldier.  One who went above and beyond to see her mission through.  One who wanted to stop Saren and go home.  And if she didn’t have one, if she was well past the point where she could pretend to herself for a few days that her apartment or her dad’s place or a skipper’s cabin were the same thing, she wanted the space to build one.  The person who fit into this moment wasn’t a person on that path.

Everything was in place.  The vision, the cipher, this chase across the galaxy and the linked fates of two civilizations- it all led here.  Shepard stared at the terminal awaiting her with legs full of lead.

Kaidan touched her shoulder.  “You ok?”

Maybe Rag was right.  Maybe this is the only kind of future she got.  He was right about most things, in the end.

Liara was already down the ramp, circling the terminal, trying to figure it out.  Her scientific curiosity was irrepressible even in these dangerous circumstances.

“Nathaly,” Kaidan said, drawing her attention with a touch of urgency.  “Saren’s already got the jump.  Let’s get this over with.”

She forced a smile, quick and tight, because there was nothing else to be done.  “Time to turn off that barrier and get out of here.”

But she took his hand briefly, impulsively, as they walked towards Liara, a link to that other life she could feel slipping away with every passing second.

More orange static coalesced above the terminal as they approached.  The holographic motes inscribed an hourglass, narrowed in the middle, twinning as they ran up and down the image in lines.  Every so often, when the image was still new in the fractional second just after she blinked, she could almost see a large-headed figure in the noise. 

A voice spoke.  “You are not Prothean.”

Shepard glanced at her team.  By their confused looks, she guessed that the computer was again using the Prothean tongue. 

The image firmed up a bit.  A large, oblong head and wire-thin limbs peeked through the static, a ghost within a blizzard, so faint it might be only the product of snow-strained eyes.  “But you are not machine either.  This eventuality was one of many anticipated.  This is why we sent our warning through the beacons.”

It fizzled and squawked, electronic interference.  Kaidan furrowed his brow. “Some kind of VI program?  It’s really badly damaged.”

The VI was silent a long moment, twisting in the air.  “I do not sense the taint of indoctrination upon any of you, unlike the one that passed recently.  Perhaps there is still hope.”

Shepard’s interest sharpened.  “You saw Saren?”

It stared at her, dimming briefly.  A trail of motes spun off and illuminated a touchpad.  “Please touch my console.”

“Pardon?”

“I cannot understand you,” it explained patiently.  The motes brightened with insistence.  “Touch my console.”

Her glance was suspicious, but she circled around the holograph and, feeling a bit foolish, lay her hand against the terminal.

The cave vanished.  It was a bit like when Shiala gave her the cipher, only this time, it was her mind, her humanity, being parsed, examined, copied.  Too much happened too quickly for Shepard to consciously experience all of it.  Snatches of memory- _three years old, holding her grandmother’s hand in the hot sun watching her father’s ship leave for the war.  A girl sprawled on the floor of a space station and scrawling her heart into a notebook._

She tried to pull away.  Something stronger and more ethereal than glue held her palm to the console.  _Drunk on the roof with her girlfriend after their high school graduation.  Climbing a tree in Brazil during her N1 training.  Bodies in the mud on Akuze.  A bullet in her shoulder.  Batarians…_  

Missions, friends, enemies, regrets.  _Locating the beacon and hearing its message.  Chasing Saren across the galaxy.  Virmire.  Ashley._

Though the process took only moments, when the program at last released Shepard her mind was reeling, as though years had passed.  Her balance was clumsy.  She staggered and tried to find her footing.

Then Kaidan was at her side, wrapping an arm about her to keep her upright.  She found the tube in her suit neck and sucked down the tepid water gratefully, greedily.  Her mouth was parched as if she hadn’t drunk anything in ages.

“What happened?” he asked. 

“I have read your essential characteristics,” the machine announced.  Though garbled by the failing power, the artificial voice was not unpleasant.  “From this I have deduced a facsimile of your language.  It will suffice.  I am Vigil.  You are safe here, thought that is likely to change.  Soon, nowhere will be safe.”

Liara was beside herself.  Her hands clasped together spontaneously.  “This is incredible.  An actual, functional Prothean VI, before my very eyes!”

Shepard straightened, wiping her mouth.  Kaidan’s arm slid from her waist.   She missed it immediately. 

Her palm tingled with the memory of the scan.  She stared at it, as though expecting to see scars.  “Are you a VI?  This seems like pretty advanced tech.”

“I am an advanced non-organic analysis system with personality imprints from Ksad Ishan, chief overseer of the Ilos research station.”

She wondered if Ishan was as uninflected as his digital descendent.  “Why stop me up top?  What do you want from us?”

“I brought you here to break a cycle that has persisted for millions of years.  But first there are some things you must understand.”

“I don’t have time for a history lesson,” she said with palpable impatience.  “Saren is gaining on us every second I spend here.”

“Your… Saren… is encountering delays.”  The holograph flickered.  “There is time.  Listen.”

It began to speak.  For days and years beyond counting, cycle after cycle, the reapers waited out the fitful rise of organic civilization in the cold abyss of dark space.  To the Prothean’s knowledge, nobody had ever found them there.  The Milky Way was a large galaxy, with many satellites, but the gulf between these meager harbors was utterly devoid of resources.  It was suspected they spent the eons in hibernation.  Whether they dreamed, or of what, none could say.

They left behind a watcher.  Sovereign.  Every so often, it rose from its long slumber to peer into the night and evaluate whether civilization was once again ripe for the harvest.  When the time was deemed right, it would turn the organics’ greatest resource against them- the Citadel.  It was a clever strategy.  The space station sat at the hub of the relay network; anyone using the relays was bound to discover it.  It was self-maintaining and move-in ready.  Naturally, each cycle took full advantage.

But beneath the shining Presidium with its gardens and lagoon, beyond the five ward arms and thirteen million people’s worth of habitable space, the Citadel possessed a darker purpose- a mass effect relay linking to dark space, one with the power to control the entire network.  Sovereign’s sole assignment was to open the relay and initiate the next round of annihilation.  With a simple signal, it alerted the keepers to prepare the way.

So it was with the Protheans, and all those who came before.  Their leadership was obliterated before their empire knew it was under attack.  The brutal invasion consumed whole planets at a time.  Some were simply wiped out.  Others were enslaved, their populations turned to husks, or indoctrinated, able to betray other worlds in the guise of refugees or allies.  One settlement after another, their empire crumbled. 

Still the reapers were not satisfied.  They directed their slaves to strip every world of resources, to systemically erase all Prothean technology, writing, art, culture.  Centuries later all that remained were the hollowed out shells of places like Feros- and the occasional overlooked cache, like Therum, or like Mars. 

Perhaps the caches were even intentional, carefully abandoned to guide the next cycle of organics.  Shepard wondered how many civilizations flourished and died in obscurity every fifty thousand years because they simply weren't fortunate enough to arise beside the ashes of their predecessors, or with a relay attached to their system.  Every species was irrevocably reliant on reaper technology to reach the stars.

However, when the reapers eradicated the Protheans, they overlooked something far more critical.

On the verge of replicating the relays and desiring to keep the work proprietary, Prothean scientists established a top-secret research facility in the backwater of the galaxy.  Ilos.  The project was so sensitive that the only records kept resided within the highest echelons of the government, aboard the Citadel, and in their haste the reapers themselves destroyed all evidence without examination.  The researchers watched the destruction of their people from afar and made a wrenching yet extraordinary sacrifice.  Rather than fight, they installed stasis pods within their archives, built Vigil, and settled in for the long twilight of their race.

And Vigil waited.  Decade after decade, century after century, it scanned the skies, seeking confirmation of the reaper retreat.  It witnessed the harvest, the stripping of their worlds, and the eradication of their culture.  It saw what happened to the slave husks they left behind to rot and starve by the billions.  It presided over the winnowing of the pods as slowly the power died, first the staff, then the security, until at last only a dozen scientists remained.  The very last survivors of the Prothean genocide.

Upon waking, they realized the true horror of their predicament.  Vainly, they queried the galaxy, but received only silence in reply.  No scientist would ever believe that a handful of people could re-found a race.  Nor did they harbor delusions of destroying the reapers who were by then long departed.  Instead, they focused their vengeance elsewhere.  Though they were lost, with the last effort of their lives, they might give those who came after a warning and a chance- because they had the Conduit.

“But what is the Conduit?” Shepard was baffled.  All along, they’d assumed it had to be weapon, or at least something of strategic worth in a battle.  The work done on Ilos wasn’t even military.

Vigil flickered.  “It is a prototype mass effect relay, linked to the heart of our civilization.”

“The Citadel,” Liara breathed.  “And because it wasn’t built by the reapers, they were not aware of its existence.”

Shepard shook her head.  “This isn’t making any sense.  Saren had the run of the Citadel.  Why does he need a special relay?  For that matter, why does Sovereign need Saren?”

“Sovereign couldn’t open the relay,” Kaidan said abruptly, as if reaching the end of a thought.  He’d been silent throughout the entire recitation, deep in concentration.  “That’s what they did, right?  The scientists- they interfered with the keepers somehow?”

 Both Shepard and Liara turned to stare at him.  Shepard frowned.  “How could you possibly-“

“Remember that data I was looking at?”  He rubbed his forehead.  “The guy I was working with told me that nobody knows anything about the keepers.  It’s forbidden to interfere with them in any way, because the Citadel can’t operate without them.  They go places not even the Council can access.  Vigil said they’re the key.  They manifest the link between the reapers and the Citadel’s secret functions.

“Your surmise is mainly correct,” Vigil said.  “The keepers are indeed controlled by the Citadel.”

“That explains some of the odd electromagnetic signatures we found.  Nobody thought the Citadel itself could… communicate.”

“Where did they come from?” Liara asked.

“We believed the keepers are a conquered race, perhaps the first to fall to machines.  They were installed aboard the Citadel to permit new species to use the station without fully understanding the technology, to maintain reaper control.  This reliance prevents civilizations from discovering its true purpose.  At first it is likely they responded to reapers’ commands directly, but like all organic things, they evolve.  Now they answer only to the Citadel.”

“Maybe that’s why Sovereign recruited the geth rather than some other population,” Liara suggested.  “It needed help scouring the galaxy for information regarding what the Protheans had done, and it no longer trusted the stability of organics.”

“You could be right.”  Shepard shrugged.  It made sense.  “Sovereign’s gone out of its way to avoid revealing its true nature.  Who knows how long it’s chipped away at this problem.”

Vigil agreed.  “As mighty as they are, a single reaper could not hope to withstand the wrath of an entire galaxy.  But a reaper is patient.  Saren may be the last of Sovereign’s indoctrinated puppets along this strange journey, but I doubt he was the first.”

That raised a number of discomfiting questions, but for the moment, Shepard brushed them aside.  “So I take it the Prothean scientists used the Conduit to gain access to the Citadel once the invasion ended.  What loophole did they find?”

“The shift in the keepers’ allegiance from the reapers to the Citadel took millions of years of natural evolution.  So they did not target biology.  Instead, they attacked the signal itself.  This time, when Sovereign sent the command to the Citadel, it was not acknowledged by the keepers.  Reaper control of the station’s guardians was severed.”

Shepard struck her palm with her fist.  “That’s why Saren needs the Conduit.  It’s a backdoor onto the Citadel, and by the time Sovereign found a solution, he’d been disbarred from the spectres.”

Liara swallowed.  “My mother- whatever else she may have been- was a brilliant woman.  She may have foreseen that Saren would be unmasked before they were ready, and led him to this.”

Shepard had a more urgent thought.  “The Council’s guarding the relay network, not the Citadel itself.  He’ll bypass all the defenses and give the station to Sovereign.”

“Yes.”  A static-ridden hologram could hardly reflect even fabricated VI emotion, but the word dropped the temperature ten degrees.  “Once Sovereign assumes direct control of the Citadel, it will override the station’s systems and manually open the relay.  And the cycle of extinction will begin again.”

Shepard was churning through scenarios, her mind working at light speed.  It was good, having a clear objective, even if it was damn near hopeless.  “Sovereign will need to be physically present at the Citadel to carry out this plan?”

“Manual operation of the relay should require direct contact.”

“And the entire Citadel fleet is dispersed to the relays right now, to defend against an invasion.”

Kaidan glanced at her.  “The Destiny Ascension’s still there.  It’s the Citadel’s primary defense.”

“It’s still a hell of a lot smaller than Sovereign, even without the geth fleet.”  She grimaced.  “We need to warn them.”

Liara licked her lips.  “The Council won’t listen.”

“Then we won’t tell the Council.”  She ran her hand over her hair.  “I’ll deal with Sovereign, somehow.  How do we stop Saren?  No matter what ‘difficulties’ he’s having reaching the Conduit, he’s still way ahead of us.”

“I cannot delay him much longer.”  Vigil paused.  “There’s a data file in my console.  Take a copy when you go and upload it to the Citadel’s master control unit.  It will corrupt security protocols and give you temporary control of the station.  It may give you a chance against Sovereign.” 

Kaidan frowned.  “Master control unit?  I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

“Follow Saren.  To carry out his plan, he must go there himself.”

“An inevitable showdown.  Great.”  Shepard sighed and waved her omni-tool at the console, awaiting the download.  “Got it.  We should go.”

Liara looked around the chamber with reluctance.  “Are you certain?  Power is failing.  This might be our only chance to-“

“The mission takes priority.  We have what we need.”  She licked her lips.  “I’m sorry.”

But as they left, she found there was one final question she could not ignore.  “The scientists, the ones who went to the Citadel- what happened to them?”

Nothing altered in the motion of Vigil’s motes.  “The Conduit is only a prototype.  The portal only links in one direction, so they were trapped on the station.  I do not know what became of them.  It is unlikely they found any food or water.  I fear they suffered a slow, grim death.”

_A small ship in the dark, drifting towards the Alliance border and safety._   “We’ll make it worth it.”

“That is my hope.”  Vigil dimmed, and at the same time the lights in the chamber flickered.  “You must hurry.  Saren is very close now.”

It was a long time before anyone spoke as they rode the elevator back to the road where their Mako awaited.  Shepard checked her rifle.  Her thoughts were too complicated to easily express.  Anger and sadness at the fate of this research colony, along with an overwhelming sense of futility and rising dread that they were far too few and far too late.  Nothing they did aboard the station would matter without a fleet to defend it.  She needed a fleet- any fleet.

Liara fixated on another topic.  “All their culture, all their advanced technology, and the Protheans were taken in by the reapers, just as we were.  They failed.”

“Not entirely.”  Kaidan was ever the optimist, and the type to admire noble sacrifice.  “They’ve given us a weapon.  They’ve given us a chance… if we can just get there in time.”

The elevator opened.  They ran up the hall and clamored into the tank.  Shepard punched the comm, abandoning the radio blackout.  “Ground team to _Normandy_ , come in.”

Pressly answered her hail.  “Commander, the geth fleet is abandoning Ilos and turning back towards the relay.  Request orders.”

The barrier was down.  Shepard slammed her foot on the accelerator.  They peeled away, splashing stale water and mud.  “Have Joker follow at a distance.  You need to get to the Citadel.  Get on the comm and go straight to Hackett- I don’t care how many junior aides you have to steamroll to get to his office.  Use my name.  Tell him Saren is sending his entire force to attack the station.”

“The relay guard-“

“The Citadel fleet’s spread so thin that the patrol won’t be more than a speed bump, and you know what our word is worth with the Council.  We need Hackett.  We need him to rally the fleets.”

“Yes, ma’am.  What about the ground team?”

“We’re arriving by another route.  Get it done.”  She cut the transmission and focused on the road.

Nobody felt like talking.  The route was uneventful; aside from a few token patrols left behind by Saren, they were alone.  Evidently, he saved most of his forces for the upcoming battle.  Shepard wondered what it would look like on the ground when they arrived.  The Citadel had no standing assault force.  There was C-Sec, but from what Shepard had seen, they weren’t equipped for an all-out fight.  Street skirmishes and riots were more their speed. 

Even if Hackett pulled off a miracle, Sovereign would win this race.  She didn’t like the odds of landing any marines past the reaper.  It could be that the only real support she’d have once they passed through the Conduit were the two people in the Mako with her.  And while Shepard would take Kaidan and Liara over just about anyone Hackett or the Council could supply, they were looking at an entire army of geth. 

Her eyes cut to Kaidan, just for a second.  He was peering into the gun camera and frowning with concentration.  _This can’t change anything_ , he’d said.  Shepard snorted to herself. Right. 

At the time it seemed like the only thing to do.  And it was undeniably a heady relief, allowing their affection for each other free rein.  But if she’d ever done anything more foolish she couldn’t recall it; they were headed straight into a war almost entirely alone, and Shepard didn’t think she could stand losing him.  A day ago he was properly compartmentalized and she could have ignored it for as long as was required.  Now, he was everywhere, under her skin and in her blood, and could not be locked away.  Revealing how much she cared for him wasn’t only an admission to him- it was also to herself.

And there was Liara beside her, the scientist forced to become a fighter, who never asked to be here but threw her whole heart into it anyway.  There was no possible way she could know what she was doing.  Instead, she trusted Shepard.  If Liara died, she would never forgive herself.  Ash was hard enough and Ash volunteered.

Her mouth settled into a line and somehow the Mako found another burst of speed.  No more.  No matter what she had to give up.

They would defeat Saren, and Sovereign.  They would make safe the Traverse and secure victory for the galaxy by borrowing time against the coming invasion.  The reapers lived in dark space?  That was quite an abyss to cross on fifty thousand years’ worth of depleted resources.  When they came, the galaxy would be waiting.

She held Sovereign’s image in her mind.  _You’ve been at this for millions, maybe even billions of years, but you’ve never yet faced Nathaly Shepard, and you’re about to find out exactly what that means._

Liara sat up, her hands flying to the ladar.  “Geth contacts.  The Conduit must be close.”

“Hang on.”  Shepard swerved around a corner.  The tank exited the bunker at last, into an orange burst of late morning sunshine glowing through the high ash clouds.

On either side, retaining walls rose up, restricting their approach.  The road sloped steeply towards a circular plaza, the lone portion of this once-great city that remained entirely intact, sheltered from the elements by the rest of the metropolis.  Ringing the plaza was a squadron of geth.  These were not the gentle, agile troops they were most accustomed to facing.  These were the heavy, armored, four-footed sentries standing as tall as a statue and armed with the kind of artillery that could take apart entire buildings. 

Kaidan echoed her thoughts.  “We can’t kill all those.  We’ll be hamburger in no time.”

“We’re not going to fight.”  She took a deep breath and started down the ramp, gaining speed.  Behind the geth she spied a familiar sight- a vertically aligned mass effect relay, miniature in scale, an exact match for the relay monument anchored in the Presidium lake.  “We’re making a run for it.”

By the time they were in firing range, they were moving so fast the flanking geth had difficulty establishing a firing solution.  Their plasma shells went wide of the tank.  Those geth arrayed in front of them hammered at their nose.

“Forward shield depleted!” Liara’s hands were frantic at the instruments.

Shepard swore.  That was faster than she’d hoped.  A shell exploded against the port and the tank rocked on its wheels.  She kept her foot down as she tried to clear the dazzle from her eyes. 

Now a steady hail of smaller caliber fire pelted their armor, digging into the Mako and forming cracks in the glass. 

Kaidan clung to the gun, bracing himself.  “We can’t take much more of this!”

The shields were useless anyway.  With a flick of her hand she transferred power to the engine.  The geth began to blur. 

A second plasma shell ripped the gun turret from the roof.  She heard Kaidan cry out, but there was no time to even think.  Straight ahead, energy gathered at the heart of the conduit.  Her head was buzzing.  Her heart was pounding.  

A third shell, a direct hit to her side, knocked her teeth together and threatened to upset the tank.  Her palms sweated against the haptic controls.  The Mako’s armor was failing.  “Come on, come on, come on-“

And then, just like that, they flew past the last of the geth defenses and straight into the heart of the relay.  A tongue of blue lashed forth and seized the vehicle like a toy.  “This is it!”

They were jerked into alignment without a care for the fragile organic contents, banging about the cabin as the tank shot up towards the sky nose-first.  The inertial dampeners failed.  Acceleration plastered Shepard to her couch.  Belatedly, she realized the restraints intended for descent would’ve been useful, but she couldn’t so much as lift her arm to fasten them.  It felt like an elephant was sitting on her chest.  Breath came in shallow gasps.  And still they gained momentum.

Just as Shepard was sure this was how they died, crushed like ants by the sad combination of a battered Mako and prototype technology, all sensation vanished.  And then Ilos was gone.

For the barest fraction of a second, she was alone in the universe, in the expectant space between one relay and the next, the moment she always hoped to see.

Shepard had no muscles to tense or lungs to gasp.  All that existed here were probabilities suspended in such terrifying exhilaration that it stole away thought.  A still and beautiful emptiness embraced them.

It could have been a second or an eon later when the Presidium ceiling blinked into view, decked out with real smoke and false clouds, and Shepard realized they were still rising. 

The return of sound- the whistle of air, creaking of metal, the blaring warnings- jarred her out of reverie.

“Shit!”  She tried the retrorockets.  There was no response from the vehicle.  Wheels spun on thin air.  The tank shivered alarmingly. 

Kaidan somehow pulled himself up towards the front.  “If we land in the lake we’re done!”

“Navigation won’t respond!” Liara punched buttons with increasing desperation.

Shepard swiped the useless steering interface out of her way.  “Somebody do something!”

Slowly, their skyward velocity went to zero.  They hung at the apex just long enough to send her stomach into her throat, and started to fall.

She attempted to reroute power.  The computer died midway through.  The tank tumbled through the air, a whirling montage of sky and terraces and water spinning across the forward port.  Alarms sounded throughout the cabin.

Shepard grabbed a strut and shoved her head down against her chest.  “Brace for impact-“

The Mako slammed into a walkway with a horrifying crash that crushed the roof like a soda can and sent glass and metal flying in all directions.  It took a while for the noise to die away.  Then the tank shuddered one final time and died, with all six wheels still turning aimlessly overhead. 

From the cabin there was not so much as a sigh.


	53. The Battle of the Citadel

Shepard’s head felt split open.

In those few seconds between regaining consciousness and being able to open her eyes, she was convinced it was truly cracked through, by a shard of glass or a broken strut, with a stomach-curdling agony that stole her breath.  But she knew bone pain intimately, and this wasn’t it.

Her vision blurred gray and red, smudgy, indistinct.  She sprawled face down on a hard surface with a mass of debris digging into her legs and stomach.  Her body felt cold.  A chemical stench hung in the air.  But for all that, she didn’t seem to be actively dying, so she didn’t feel compelled towards any particular action.

Shepard closed her eyes.

Footsteps. Somebody reached down and rolled her onto her back. Her head lolled, limp as doll.

The figure crouched beside her, shook her shoulder. “Nathaly?”

Her gut gave another lurch. She groaned. “I shouldn’t have taken the car…”

Another voice, questioning, confused.  “What car?”

Her accomplice’s tone shifted as he looked away. “She’s kind of out of it.”

Shepard forced her eyes to blink, and blink again.  There was no sky to speak of overhead; just billows of smoke and half a ruined tank, and the man hovering over her with his brow creased in concern. She put a hand to her head, gingerly. “Kaidan?”

“We’re on the Presidium,” he explained. There was a bloody gash across his forehead slathered in medi-gel.  “What’s left of it, anyway. Can you sit up?”

_Presidium.  Saren.  Sovereign.  Right._

Nothing sounded better than simply lying there awhile and admiring the way everything was slowly spinning around. But she rolled over and pushed herself up on her palms, paused a moment to marvel at her success, and then her stomach went into full rebellion. “Fuck-“

Kaidan stepped out of the way just in time. “Easy there. Take it slow.”

Liara squatted beside Shepard, supporting her as she panted. “The head injuries seem to have caught up to her at last.  She’s not in any condition to continue.”

He didn’t seem to like it any better than her, but his eyes slid off towards the tower.  He frowned. “I don’t think she has much choice. We can’t leave her here.”

“Nobody is leaving me anywhere.” Shepard bent her head towards her knees, took a deep breath, wiped her mouth and shoved away at the disorientation and the pain alike. “Someone help me up.”

Liara grabbed her forearms while Kaidan hauled under her shoulders. She staggered on her feet. The already savage headache doubled down and her vision went gray.  Her gut heaved.  Kaidan held her upright and didn’t let her go until she managed a semblance of a frosty glare. It couldn’t have dried paint- but he reluctantly released her.

She took a step, and then another. Everything seemed intact. She had a look at her squad.  Neither of them was going to win a beauty contest anytime soon, but their injuries seemed superficial, simple cuts and contusions. 

Shepard sucked in a breath and blew it out. “Ok. How long have we been here?”

“Not that long,” Liara said.

“Ok.” The Presidium was unrecognizable. Piles of rubble lay across the paths, in the lake, decorating the balconies that hung overhead. Here and there the walkway had collapsed.  Chunks of the curved ceiling floated on the water, exposing the scaffolding above. A rather spastic Presidium VI guide flickered on and off, chirping a welcome message in ten languages, while a few enthusiastic fires sent up clouds of smoke.  The air tasted of ashes.

The elevator to the Council Chamber was still clear. Geth drop ships crowded what little of the nebula she could see through the cracks in the roof, hugging the tower and trailing streams of geth units deploying to the wards.

Shepard rubbed her eyes. “Ok. Here’s what we’re going to do. All the action seems to be up there. Putting this supposed control station in the Presidium tower makes sense.  It’s the only place on the whole damn station Saren wouldn’t have had free access to, as a spectre.  We’re going to take this elevator and sort it out.”

They exchanged glances.  She started trudging forward. “Any sign of Saren?”

“Nothing yet.” Kaidan was walking a bit close to her with his rifle ready.

“I am never teasing you about your headaches again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Liara hit the call button. “Are you certain you’re up for this?”

Shepard’s gaze lingered on the Mako. The tank was nothing short of annihilated. “I’ll be fine. Let’s just get this done.”

Halfway up the tower, the elevator stalled out.  Shepard buried her face in her hands. 

“Power transmitter must’ve been hit.”  Alenko went to the window.  They were just high enough to begin to see the Presidium for the ring it truly was.  “There should be a hatch- oh, god.”

He was staring upwards, craning his neck along the length of the tower.  Liara followed.  “The ward arms- they’re closing.”

“What?”  Shepard pressed her face against the cold glass.  One by one, the stars winked out as the Citadel sealed shut.  And there was something else, too.  “Does the end of the tower look strange to you?”

Perspective was lacking and it was difficult to see anything at the top clearly.  Still, there was something familiar and telling about the distant triangle of black flecked with reddish lightening.  Alenko blinked, his breath fogging the port.  “Is that Sovereign?  It’s sitting on top of the Council chamber?”

“I think we’ve got our confirmation on where that control station is.”  Shepard stepped back and unclipped her helmet from her belt.

Liara gave her a questioning look.  “What are you doing?”

“Saren came through the Conduit.  He’ll have to meet his boss upstairs.”  She fastened the collar clasp, sealing the suit and engaging the respirator.  “I’m not waiting to figure out the damn backup power.  We’ll walk.”

Thirty seconds later, after her squad secured their protective gear, Shepard blew out the glass with her pistol.  They crawled out the window and steadied themselves on magnetized boot soles as they looked along the length of the tower.

The slender spire that housed the Council was the spindle about which the Citadel turned.  Here, at the center, centripetal force was negligible and artificial gravity kept each floor comfortable.  There was no reason to extend those fields beyond the walls.  And it was just as well- walking up the side would’ve been difficult otherwise.  Similarly, there was no cause to project the expensive mass effect field barrier that contained the station’s breathable atmosphere a millimeter beyond what was necessary.  So it was that they stood in an airless, weightless gap, stuck to the skin of the tower by magnetism alone.

The view was disconcerting to say the least.  But the situation didn’t leave them long to be confused.

Up ahead, smaller ships from Saren’s fleet continued to drop ground units onto the tower.  Clearly Saren had realized their predicament; perhaps he was in a similar situation.  He couldn’t have beat them through the Conduit by very much or the Citadel would already be under Sovereign’s complete control.  Shepard wondered, not for the first time, whether Saren would survive so much as five minutes past his reaper cohort achieving its objective- but she didn’t intend to let him live long enough herself to find out.

Alenko drew his rifle.  “What’s the plan?”

Shepard winced, and turned down the volume on her comm- everything was too loud.  She wished her head weren’t aching quite so badly.  It was difficult to think.  “We fight our way to the top, and look for an access panel, or something.  There’s a big- you know, glass thing, at the back of the Council Chamber.”

“Window?”

“Yeah, that.”  She ignored his frown.  “Maybe we can go through it.”

Liara pursed her lips.  “How can you know the master control unit is there?  Wouldn’t they have found it by now?”

“She’s got a point,” Alenko said.  “The asari have occupied the Citadel for almost three thousand years.”

“Yeah, and they somehow missed the fact that it’s a giant mass relay.”  Shepard was dismissive.  “They couldn’t even tell the difference between a relay monument sitting in their lake and a real relay, either.  The control unit is there.  Sovereign would have told Saren how to find it.  We just need to arrange a little interruption.”

They started forward.  A secondary thought penetrated her throbbing haze.  “Did we hear from _Normandy_ or Alliance Command while I was out?”

“Nothing.”

She let out a sigh and glanced up towards the ward arms, which were now firmly shut.  “Cross your fingers we’re not all alone out here.”

/\/\/\/\/\

The _Normandy_ arrived through the Serpent Nebula relay alone and immediately engaged the IES.  Navigator Pressly, apparently of a similar view as Admiral Mikhailovich regarding the location of the CIC, stood on the bridge directly behind Joker with his arms crossed.  The iron-faced X.O. made the pilot nervous.  Shepard shouted constantly, and he’d learned to deal with it.  This grim silence was something else.

“Sir, we’ve got at least twenty enemy ships here, not counting what’s inside the Citadel,” Joker said at last, unable to bear it a moment longer.

“I know how to read a ladar scan, Lieutenant.”

That was the other thing.  Even the commander knew better than to bother with his rank at a time like this.  Joker muttered under his breath.

Pressly’s gaze never left the nav screen.  “Steady as she goes.”

“I know how to steer a ship, sir.”  The remark slipped out before Joker’s rusty better judgment could lodge a protest.

The stern glance he got in reply brimmed with reproach, but before Pressly could utter an admonishment, Bakari came over the comm.  “Sir, we’ve got orders from Admiral Hackett.  The Fifth Fleet is en route.”

Pressly glanced at the ceiling, at the comm.  “When are they inbound?”

“Uncertain, sir.  The relay system is nonresponsive.”

“Nonresponsive-“

“The admiral says they’ll regroup and come through the final relay together once they figure it out.  We’re to sit tight and not engage.”

The X.O.’s attention snapped to the ceiling speaker.  “How many squadrons?”

“As many as he could mobilize on short notice, sir.”  Bakari paused to read in new information.  “The admiral is requesting continual status updates until they arrive.”

Joker reached up and hit the transmit switch.  “The big guy went inside with a lot of the geth fleet.  The Citadel’s sealed.  The Destiny Ascension is fighting off the remainder.  They’re holding their own for now, but who knows how long that will last.”

Pressly glared.  Joker glanced back at him.  “Or did you want to answer that, sir?”

He rubbed his nose.  “Still nothing from the commander?”

“If she said she had a way off Ilos, she had a way off Ilos.”  Joker refused to believe anything else, even if a dark corner of his mind realized Shepard absolutely would trick them into abandoning her if she thought it was the only way.  “We just have to wait.”

The X.O. snorted.  “As you were, Lieutenant.  As you were.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard fired twice into a fallen geth, just to be sure, each shot rattling through her suit like an artillery shell.  For the thirteenth time, she attempted to massage her skull through the helmet.  It was a dull, inexorable ache, too painful to easily ignore and too persistent to dismiss.  Her stomach churned.  She concentrated on breathing through her nose.  “That’s the last of this group.”

“There’s steady patrols all the way to the top.”  Kaidan glanced between her and their destination, torn.

She ground her teeth.  Shepard knew she was moving more slowly than they could afford, and it had crossed her mind more than once to tell them to go on ahead.  The geth posed little threat to her, not this far from the prize, not if she hunkered down to wait.  But every time she began to speak, her stubborn nature intervened.  This was her fight.  She was going to be there when it ended. 

She wasn’t going to leave the two of them alone to face this and possibly die for this, while she hid safe.

She shuffled ahead, past Kaidan, and the flicker of concern in his eyes annoyed her out of all proportion- if only because there was a little bit of her that had grown very seriously worried over what was happening in her head, and she didn’t like to be reminded.  “It’s not far now.”

“I see a few gun turrets ahead,” he replied, evenly, as if he hadn’t seen the flash of irritation, though the almost complete lack of inflection intimated that he had.

“This tower looks so smooth from a distance,” Liara said, attempting to change the subject.  “Yet we could easily lose ourselves in all these tunnels and surface structures.”

Shepard sucked at her tube of water.  The suit reservoir was nearly dry.  Her mouth was a wad of cotton.  “Most space stations are lumpy.  It takes a lot of systems infrastructure to keep them running.”  She looked up.  “Alright.  Those are defense turrets.  If we can activate them, they might thin the geth, or at least prevent more from dropping in our path.”

Liara glanced at her.  “Will they target us?”

She shook her head and immediately regretted it.  “No, they can’t get a firing solution on the tower itself.”

Alenko set his rifle.  “Nice safety feature.”

“I don’t know.  This is the Council we’re talking about.”  Shepard sighed and rolled her neck, which was beginning to ache horribly as well.  “Move out.”

They crept ahead, following a crude valley running up the tower.  It dead-ended between the guns.  Shepard hoped it would afford them some cover until they activated the defenses.  Otherwise the geth would have the advantage of firing from high ground. 

How in the hell had Saren convinced the geth to take the Citadel anyway?  How was that remotely in their interest? But that was the wrong way to think about it- Sovereign was calling the shots, and Sovereign was a god to the geth.  When god speaks, the faithful listen, and computers were nothing if not deterministic. 

“Incoming, two o’clock,” Alenko called out. 

A squad of geth was closing in.  Shepard fired.  Each bullet made her brain feel like jelly in a bowl.  The machine on point stumbled back.  “Make for the port gun.  Go!”

She guarded their flank while Liara and Alenko scrambled up onto the deck.  It had to be a patrol; while the geth undoubtedly knew they were on the tower, these particular geth seemed taken by surprise.  She took out two before they managed to hit her. 

“Shepard!”  Liara reached down.

Kaidan took over on cover fire as she hauled her up.  Shepard stumbled over the lip.  Her reactions were sluggish, her boots a pair of clubs at the end of her legs.  The lapse allowed the geth to tag her again and her shield failed.  “Hold them back-”

He glanced over his shoulder.  “Commander-“

“Hold them, damn it!”  She scrambled towards the gun turret, dragging herself across the tower through the firefight.  Shepard blessed the vacuum.  The only sounds in her helmet were contact noise coming up through the suit and the comm channel.  She thought she might pass out if she had to listen to all of it.

She reached the control terminal.  This was serious artillery, the last line of defense between the seat of galactic government and any threat powerful and suicidal enough to assault the Citadel.  The thing was, everyone knew turians built the best weaponry.  So the guns were from Palaven.  But since nobody liked the idea of the turians getting an exclusive contract on such a sensitive matter, the interface was programmed by salarians and wired into a network produced by the asari that coordinated the entire station defense.

The result was an arcane mess of subcontracting gone awry that Shepard couldn’t have figured out with a few hours of free time and a stout manual.

Alenko came up beside her.  “That group’s down but we’ll have more inbound any moment.”

“I know.”  She pressed buttons, uselessly.  “Would it have killed them to install a VI with this thing?”

“Look, there.” Liara tilted her head back, staring up at a drop ship streaming overhead.

Kaidan frowned.  “Coming in hot.”

“Fuck.”  Shepard punched at the controls.

Liara watched the ship hover over the field and commence spewing geth onto the field.  “It’s come to something when a Spectre of the Citadel can’t command the station defenses.”

Somewhere in the primordial sludge that presently passed for Shepard’s thought process a bell went off.  “Right!  I’m a spectre!  Yes!”

Kaidan glanced at her warily. 

She was too elated to care.  She waved her omni-tool at the feckless machine.  It took a moment long enough to cause her to doubt, but her spectre code successfully overrode the majority of the system’s interface, taking her directly to the gun controls without any further authentication or redundant safety checks. 

Point and shoot she could do.  The gun swiveled and locked onto the geth drop ship.  It was an absolute dinosaur of a gun- old, heavy, slow, and utterly inevitable.  Whole sections of the hull sagged beneath the onslaught of its shells.  But it was a large ship, and the damage far from catastrophic.

While they were distracted, the ground troops it deployed were scampering down the tower towards their position.  Alenko’s biotics scraped the field raw with slash of his arm.  Geth sailed out into open space on a wave of blue light. 

Shepard swept the remaining line with her rifle, filling the vacuum with droplets of milky geth fluid.  “It’s going to take more than this!”

Liara snapped off several rounds.  “We need that second gun!”

Apparently the geth realized it as well, because they were forming a protective ring around the turret, while the frontal assault kept them pinned and occupied.  Shepard fired until her shield went down a second time, falling back behind the gun.  “Damn it, that thing is still streaming geth!  We need to take it out!”

“We’re barely keeping up as it is!” Alenko shot one geth, and lifted the one behind it off the tower.  Without any gravity to pull it back, it floated away, squirming. 

Her eyes darted over the terrain, seeking any advantage.  “Pull back!”

Liara turned and blinked behind her faceplate.  “What?”

“Just do it!”  Shepard scrambled back down into the tower furrow, retreating slowly as the geth pressed ahead.  Electronic communications had their benefits.  There was no evidence to date that the geth had cracked Alliance encryptions.  “I saw a hatch back here somewhere.”

Liara blocked the way with a singularity.  Kaidan shot the geth who attempted to creep around it.  “It won’t be more than a maintenance shaft.”

“Exactly.”  She finally spotted it, lying between two power sinks.  Another invocation of her spectre code unlocked it.  It was a stroke of luck that the Council barred Saren when they did; Shepard shuddered to imagine what he could have accomplished with this kind of universal access. 

Shepard vanished into the station. 

The abrupt return of gravity sent her sprawling to her knees.  She shook off the disorientation and scrambled up the ladder towards the gun, trying hard to forget that a second ago this was the floor. 

The maintenance shaft was also oxygenated, the muffled sounds of geth feet marching over the tower skin coming down through the walls and penetrating her helmet.  She was well under them now.  She hoped her own movements were quieter.  Most of the geth were now directly overhead and the station’s skin was none too thick.

She reached the top of the ladder and located the turret maintenance console.  Hooking her arm through the rungs, she tapped away one-handed until she found the correct program. 

“Have to fire the thing to test it,” she muttered, examining the interface.  “Can’t maintain it without testing it.”

She pressed a button.  It felt wrong, firing what amounted to a very large gun this way, but the ceiling shuddered flakes of rust down onto her and the shell shot out with a reverberation that rang the chamber like a bell.  A lance of pain shot from her skull down into her stomach; she gagged hard, desperate not to vomit into her helmet.

She forced herself to reach out and fire it again.  And then a third time. 

The metal-on-metal of geth feet overhead accelerated from a shuffle to a run, as some fled towards their ailing ship and others attempted to disrupt the turret.  Executing a maintenance safety procedure effectively locked them out of the topside console.  Shepard doubted it would last long against geth hacking, but probably long enough to drive off the drop ship.

Her comm activated.  Liara.  “Shepard, it’s getting hot out here!”

She took a heavy breath.  “On my way.” 

Shepard left the terminal gratefully and hauled herself back to the surface.  Her stomach lurched again, through the abrupt transition from gravity to weightlessness.  The back of her throat tasted raw and sour.

The drop ship was gone.  Evidently the guns worked better than she hoped, because bits of the wreckage decorated the deck.  Geth hid behind protrusions and inside the mechanical valleys running the length of the tower.  Kaidan and Liara were crowded up against their own valley wall, taking turns firing bullets and flinging biotics over the edge. 

Shepard hunkered down next to them.  “How many?”

“Don’t know.”  Kaidan fired at a geth.  It darted behind an HVAC box.  “They’re calling in patrols further up.”

“This is it then.”  She took aim at the unit, and the subsequent burst of escaping air sent the geth spinning into space.  “We take these ones out, we should have a clear path to the top.”

“I would have preferred smaller doses,” Liara said, raising another singularity.

“And I would’ve preferred we not be alone out here, but what can you do.”  Shepard nailed another machine right up its flashlight.  It fell, twitched, and floated off as the magnetism failed.

Kaidan lifted several more free of the tower surface.  “We’ve got to get those arms open.”

“And hope like hell the fleet’s out there when we do.”  She pursed her lips and glanced along the length of the trench.  “We’re not going to break this front.  Move up.  Make them chase us for a change.”

He gave the geth one last look.  “Absolutely.”

They scuttled up the tower, keeping to cover, and in the chaos it was a few minutes before the geth realized they were gone.  After that it was shoot and run, and pray to find a way into the top before they got pinned down in a blind alley or ran out of tower.

They climbed down into a vacant shaft bright with glass and white paint.  The sight delivered an extra vicious stab to Shepard’s throbbing head.  Staccato shots followed them as they ran up the length, with those oddly careful, bounding steps designed to never allow both feet off the floor at the same time.  Shepard and Alenko had trained on it, as new recruits, until it sucked the last drop of romance out of zero-g ops.   Liara fumbled a bit but kept up admirably; either the long experience of a wandering life or natural asari grace coming to her rescue. 

The geth seemed to encounter little difficulty from the exotic terrain.  They were all but breathing down their backs when they finally hit the end of the shaft and scrambled back up to the surface. 

Liara blocked their exit with another singularity.  “We’re running out of space.”

Alenko glanced up at the peach-toned arc of the ward arms and grimaced.  “And time.  Who knows what the geth fleet is doing out there.”

“Keep moving,” Shepard said, more concerned than she let on.  The geth would have kept them tied up forever back by the gun turrets, but if they got pinned between their pursuit and Saren’s entourage, they would quite simply die.

“We have to be getting near the Council Chamber,” Liara panted.

“Maybe it’ll lock behind us.”  Shepard slogged onward.  It was increasingly difficult to focus.  “We can shoot geth out of the cherry trees.”

Alenko and Liara exchanged a look, but held their silence. 

“Here,” Shepard said, after a little while.  They’d followed a trench nearly to the very top of the tower.  It terminated in a boxy cavern dimly lit by emergency power, with a solid square hatch set into the floor.  “The Council Chamber should be just on the other side.”

Liara hovered at her shoulder.  “So what are we waiting for?”

She sat back on her heels and sighed.  “It’s locked.”

Alenko’s pistol barked.  “Incoming, right on our six!”

“Shit.”  Shepard tried to prod her tired brain into action.  “Kaidan, deal with this hatch.  Liara-“

“On it.”  She pressed into a support column and started to obstruct the path with her biotics.

Shepard took up station opposite her, while Alenko crouched down and tried to hack the lock.  She sent a burst of fire down the trench.  It was more a dissuasion than an assault.  Her aim was suffering, her reflexes sluggish at best, and her arms felt like twin sacks of cement.

A geth staggered as one of her errant bullets struck it almost entirely by accident.  Liara’s warp put it down for good.  More climbed over the chassis.  Shepard held her finger down on the trigger, letting up only when her heat sink beeped a warning. 

“Almost got it!” Alenko entered frantic commands into his omni-tool.

There were several more geth clogging the path now, slowing down the others.  Their shots came as fast as ever.  Liara’s shield failed and a split second later she cried out and fell back.  Blood seeped from the suit webbing over her arm. 

Shepard found a hidden cache of resolve from somewhere deep in the dregs of her reserves, and sent the geth down to join its colleagues.  Then the one behind it, and then the one behind that.  Time moved at a crawl.  There was a small infinity between one bullet and the next.  She couldn’t even say how often she hit; all she could do was keep firing.

She lost count of the geth.  Once they joined the pile, they fell out of her world.  Her shield failed.  One of them chipped her ceramic plating.  It went unnoticed.  There was nothing but the necessity to _hold the goddamn tunnel._

She didn’t even realize she was shouting until Kaidan shook her, hard.  “Come on!  We have to go!”

He helped Liara through the hatch, and then ducked in himself.  Shepard spared the geth one last glance and disappeared after him into the Council Chamber.

The second she was through, Alenko yanked her clear of the door and slammed it shut, engaging the lock.  Then he took a step back and shot out the access panel beside it.

Shepard blinked at him, a bit disconcerted.  He shrugged and looked away, almost embarrassed.  “It should hold them for a while.  Long enough.”

She nodded, because what else was there to do, and immediately regretted it.  Gingerly, she removed her helmet, feeling rather like getting all the way here without fouling it was one of the greatest achievements of her life, and let it clatter to the floor.  She breathed in a lungful of station air.  “Status check.”  


Liara’s face was pale, but resolute.  “I think it’s broken.  I can make do.”

“All hands on deck,” Alenko said, dryly.  “And you, Commander?”

There was no dignified response to be made, so she simply vented her heat sink and staggered towards the pedestal where the Council met.  “I’m still in one piece.  That’ll have to be enough.”

He took her arm without being asked and kept them straight along the path, and for once she had the sense not to object.  Their footfalls felt muted by the hush hanging over the room.  There was not so much as the hiss of a ventilator. 

“It’s quiet.”  Liara’s face tilted up towards the garden branches.  Cinders drifted down through the leaves.  “The trees are burning.”

“Yeah.”  Shepard felt the strongest sense of déjà vu as they moved deeper into the chamber, almost as though the busy murmurs of the Council and their many petitioners and staff echoed in the silent halls.  It was hard not to remember her first time here.  Kaidan appreciated the aesthetic, while Ash’s cynical eyes could only see the strong defensive positions framed by the stairs.

She caught his eye and could tell he was thinking the same thing.  A half smile, sweet and sad, said he knew who deserved to be here, and it wasn’t only them.

“Look, up ahead.”  Liara pointed, breaking the spell.  “The ramp’s extended.  I think I see-“

“Saren,” Shepard said, adrenaline spiking her veins and driving off pain and fatigue alike.  She raised her rifle.

Almost as before the word left her mouth, the figure turned, reaching for his belt.  She bolted up the stairs.  As she dove for the protection of the railing, something ruffled her hair.

The grenade exploded not more than ten meters away, down the stairs, and drove her back into the barricade as her shield popped.  A wetness trickled down her neck.  Shepard retched.

“Shepard,” Saren said, almost more a welcome than a condemnation.  “I thought you might be joining us.  My geth have never been much of a contest for you.”

She wanted to make some kind of biting repartee.  But her ears were ringing and her stomach was heaving and her tongue was lost somewhere in it all. 

“You’ve lost,” Saren continued, drawing a pistol and examining it with an abstracted air.  “You know that, don’t you?  We have already seized control of the relay system.  I’m afraid your fleet won’t be joining us.  Soon Sovereign will have full control of this station, the Citadel relay will open, and the reapers will return.”

She couldn’t see Kaidan or Liara.  In a way it was comforting.  If they’d been caught by the grenade, she’d see pieces of them everywhere.  “Funny to hear the puppet brag about how well it’s been played.”

“You don’t understand.”

Shepard swallowed, roughly, and took a breath.  “I understand I’m going to that control panel.  If you try to stop me, I’ll kill you.  Without your geth I’d have had you last time.”

“Last time?”  His laugh was rich like soured milk, thick, redolent.  “Last time you were too busy saving your wretched friends to care whether you killed me.  To your loss.  Sovereign’s… upgrades are now complete.  You won’t stand a chance.”

“You think I’m worried about a few cybernetics?”  The very thought was preposterous. 

Saren switched tactics.  “There’s a place for organics in the coming galactic order.  People of ability and of action.  People like you and I.”

She didn’t dignify that with a reply.  Her rifle was somewhere scattered down the stairs.  She drew her pistol and checked it.

“Sovereign recognizes your value.  You’ve impressed it, more than enough to earn a place.  Your life will be spared.”

“Before this is over, Sovereign’s kind are going to beg me for the same courtesy.”  The words were out before she even knew where they came from, some kind of hindbrain snark reflex.  She shut her eyes and quietly began locking away every bodily alarm sounding in her head, using the time he spent speaking to steady herself for what was coming, knowing she wasn’t prepared.

He laughed again.  “Asari have diplomacy, salarians have intellect- but you humans, you have so much arrogance that you’ve built an entire civilization on baseless audacity.”

“I take it back.  The reapers aren’t like you.  They have too much dignity to beg.”

Saren shot through the decorative sheet metal that protected the council dais from the garden below.  Shepard was forced to scuttle sideways as he brought her shields down.  She laughed herself, then, beyond exhausted.  “Is that it?”

“You will die.  You, and everyone you love.  Everyone you’ve ever met.”  His frustration was evident.  “They will all die!  The reapers cannot be stopped, not by any power known to mortals.  The cycle will continue forever.  This is the _only_ way to make peace.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”  Shepard’s temper failed at last.  “The reapers don’t negotiate.  They don’t use organics.  They devour and discard them- exactly like the cattle they think we are.  You’ll be dead ten minutes after Sovereign takes this station, along with everyone else in reach.”

“I had no choice!  You saw the warnings.  You know what became of the Protheans.”

“And I know that you surrendered to Sovereign long before you found that beacon on Eden Prime.  How do you explain that?”

Silence.  She shifted a bit, balancing on the balls of her feet.  She finally spotted Liara- crouched behind a bench at the base of the stairs, lost in the ornamental plants.  Half the chamber was aflame.  Smoke crowded the vaulted ceiling.  Liara stared back at her, steady as she was grim, pistol in hand and her injured arm tucked close to her body.

“It wasn’t like that,” Saren said, though more than a little uncertain.

“Women, men, children of Eden Prime- you burned them alive in their homes.  You tortured them to create husks.  You were a spectre of the Citadel.  Of the galaxy.  _All of it._ ”  Shepard spat.  “Is _that_ how you perform your duty?”

“I can’t-“

“Were the geth your idea, or Sovereign’s?  Did your brother die so that it could come to this?”

“There was… there was no hope…”

“You could have fought.”  Shepard rose out of cover and faced him, heedless of his gun.  She figured she was too sick to do much about it, anyway.  “What we choose matters.  You chose to survive at the cost of everything else.  You quit.  Does that sound like a spectre to you?  Or does it sound like a reaper?”

He was staring at her now, stricken and defenseless as a child.  His cybernetics gleamed as he shuddered.  “It’s too late…”

“There’s still a way,” she said.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kaidan trying to sneak around the railing, towards her position.  “If you’ve got the guts.”

They stared at each other.  An endless moment later, his pistol lowered until it pointed at the floor.  Saren took a breath, closed his eyes, and nodded. 

She stood there, not an avatar of vengeance or justice or even necessity, but as a simple marine, carrying out her duty to defend and serve.  There was neither elation nor regret.  This turian, who had butchered his was across the Traverse on a mission of madness, now seemed ordinary, old, and above all, tired.  Her eyes softened.  She knew that kind of tired.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He nodded again, acknowledgement more than acceptance, and raised the pistol to his head.  A shot rang out. 

He fell back into the garden, through the glass, through the trees, and landed in the grass with a meaty, final thump.  It was a long moment before the tinkle of falling shards faded from the air.

The squad let out a collective breath.  Kaidan glanced at her.  “Why apologize?”

She licked her lips.  “He was just a man, Kaidan.  If I’d met Sovereign before he did… I don’t know that it would’ve turned out any different.”

“That’s not true,” Liara said firmly.  “Sovereign exploited Saren’s hatred and malice.  It needed that foothold into his mind.”

“I don’t want you to brush it off, Liara.  I want you to remember it.”  She pointed at the tall window decorated the far side of the Council chamber.  Outside, Sovereign’s legs curled about the tower, while in the distance geth drop ships flowed like silver fish.  “Reapers with laser cannons, geth armies, cycles of harvest- they’re distractions.”

“Distractions!”

“They can burn our colonies, raze our homes, end our lives- but this?”  She looked down at Saren through the mess of broken glass.  “This destroys who we are.  That’s our enemy.  And the second any of us forgets that, we’re finished.”

Liara’s rejection was flat, categoric.  “None of us could ever be like him.”

Shepard exchanged a look with Kaidan, who knew her better, and he simply took her hand.  “Let’s unlock the relays, open the ward arms, and finish this.”

The three of them crossed the extended walkway to the dais where the Council usually stood.  Today it was occupied instead by a large haptic array, streaming with symbols from no language Shepard knew- and even in this era of omnipresent translation software, she passed for an amateur linguist.  But there was no time to dwell on mystery.  Quickly, she uploaded Vigil’s code, and hoped like hell there was still time to disrupt whatever protocols Saren set in motion.

At first nothing happened.  She held her breath, unsteady on her feet, and begged her exhausted, injured body to hold together just a little longer.  Knowing that the adrenaline was draining from her system, and sooner rather than later, she would be unable to ignore the bill.

Her eyes turned to the long window gracing the back of the chamber.  “Come on…”

“What are we-“ Kaidan started to ask, but she ignored him entirely.

Shepard stepped towards the window, her hands curling into balls.  “Come on.”

“Look!” Liara gasped.

The barest of blackest cracks appeared between two ward arms. 

She let out a scream and jumped, punching the air.  “Yes!”

Kaidan’s mouth dropped open.  “I don’t believe it.”

Shepard spun in circles, headaches and exhaustion alike momentarily eclipsed.  “Yes!  Fuck yes!”

“Try the comm,” Liara urged. 

She put her fingers to her ear, with the biggest smile on her face.  “Shepard to _Normandy_ , do you read?”

There was a long pause.  A bit of her elation decayed into concern.  “Come in, _Normandy._ ”

Outside, the distance between the arms grew larger as they continued to separate.  Stars glimmered, pins in the wisp of nebula just barely visible beyond the bright lights of the wards. 

A burst of deafening static crackled through her ears like a lance through her head.  Bakari.  “Commander Shepard, this is the _Normandy._   We read you loud and clear.”

Liara’s hands flew to her mouth, though her eyes betrayed the grin they hid.  Kaidan did just the opposite.  He covered his eyes, the sag of his shoulders and the curve of his mouth both conveying a profound relief at reaching the end of this long journey.

“Where the hell are you?”  There was nothing but sheer irreverence; it was almost over.  All she needed now was the fleet.

“Hanging tight outside the Citadel, ma’am.  Damn good to hear your voice.  I’ve got a priority transmission from Admiral Hackett waiting for you.”

“Patch him through.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

There was a pause as they waited for Bakari to complete the transfer.  Shepard glanced down at the garden for the second time.  Seven meters below, Saren’s corpse lay face-down in the grass.  After five months of chasing him all over the Traverse, it was hard to believe he was truly gone.

Shepard had seen any number of dead men in her time.  But as she stared at him, waiting for Hackett, the faintest glimmer of doubt crossed her mind.  This had been all too easy.  “Check him.”

Kaidan blinked at her.  “What?”

She jerked her chin at the body.  “Check him.”

He took in her expression, and decided not to argue.  “Right away.” 

Liara grimaced and followed him as he walked across the path and started to pick his way down the fallen debris.

“Commander Shepard,” spoke her comm link.

She immediately forgot the endeavor below.  “Sir.”

“The relay network was nonresponsive for an extended time, but it appears back online now.”  Hackett was obviously troubled by that, but understood it was a question for later.  “I’ve got the entire Arcturus fleet ready to enter Citadel space.  I need a status update.”

“The Citadel is back under our control.”  A groan from the ceiling as the massive reaper perched outside shifted its weight called her attention.  She stared upward.  “For the moment.”

“Enemy forces?”

“Well, there’s the whole geth fleet.”  Shepard laughed, though there was nothing humorous about it.  “You’ve really got to worry about Sovereign.  Saren’s flagship.  It’s a…  It’s an AI entity in partnership with Saren and the geth.  We’ve been calling them reapers.”

“Understood, Commander.”  Hackett paused.  “Where is Saren?”

“Dead,” she said, just as Liara raised her pistol and fired an additional shot into his head.  “Very dead.”

Far away, on the other side of a relay, Hackett tried desperately not to smile.  The CIC of a dreadnought was significantly busier than that of a frigate.  The ship commander’s station was at the heart of everything, elevated, and ringed by sober-faced men and women carefully monitoring the status of the fleet and organizing their activities.  It was not a place for frivolity.

Anderson was right about some things.  Shepard was hot-headed, rebellious, and relentless to a fault, particularly when it came to what she saw as higher duties.  But she had a way about her.  Something endearing.  She just tried so damn hard, and failure seemed to simply irritate her. 

“I’ve got the fleet on stand-by, ready to attack.  But we’ve never faced this kind of enemy.”  Hackett crossed his arms.  “You have.”

“Not in open combat.  Not with ships.”  The reply came with a measure of reluctance, as though she was annoyed by the prevarication.

He had little patience for it.  “I’m asking what you think.”

“You’re going to need everything you’ve got to take down Sovereign and then some.  Prepare for heavy casualties, but don’t hold back.”

“Understood.”  He nodded to his officers, who began entering commands and whispering into their own comms.  “Ready the fleet.  We go now.”

They surged through the relay like the wrath of god.

As they winked into the heart of the Serpent Nebula, ship after ship, Hackett strode ahead, towards the bank of windows decorating the long wall across the bow of his vessel.   The fleet spread out before him.  Some might call it reckless, leaving Arcturus and the border skeleton-crewed, but while the _Normandy_ was out fighting the war, Hackett spent these long months embroiled in intelligence reports, gleanings from the larger situation.  He was blessed with an exceptional mind.  It had been engaged in the tedious work of assembling meaning from all this chaos.

The history of these reapers went back farther than Shepard knew.  Four decades at the least, of rumors and shadows, half-remembered nightmares and unexplained mysteries.  The beacon was the centerpiece.  He didn’t like it; he’d never wanted to believe anything less.  But he knew as well as her that this battle was only the opening act.

But it would be the final if they did not succeed.

“Sir!”  A young lieutenant serving as Hackett’s comms officer looked up from his console.  “We’ve picked up a transmission from the _Destiny Ascension._ ”

Hackett turned away from the port.  “What is it?”

He punched a button, and the distress call filled the deck.  “This is the _Ascension_.  We are taking heavy damage.  GARDIAN defenses are overwhelmed, kinetic barriers are offline.”

The admiral’s eyes shot to the lieutenant.  “Confirm that.”

“ _Destiny Ascension_ , this is Alliance Fleet, confirm identity.”

“Fleet, this is the _Ascension_.  Sending confirmation codes now.  We are under attack.  Our barriers are offline.”  Palpable relief colored the asari officer’s voice.  “We have the Council on board.”

There was an abrupt silence in the CIC as every person turned to stare at the command center.  The lieutenant licked his lips.  “ _Ascension_ , say again?”

“The Council is aboard, repeat, the Council is on board.”

Hackett turned towards him.  “Do we still have Shepard?”

“Yes, sir.”  He switched the VI output to the first channel.

“I’m patched through, sir,” Shepard said without preamble.  “How does the sky look?”

Hackett glanced from the ladar screens to the ports, taking in the distribution of the geth fleet descending upon the Citadel ship.  Most of the Citadel fleet was away, guarding relays Saren bypassed and unable to get home quickly, dispersed and disconnected as they were.   The _Destiny Ascension_ was the flagship, and the largest dreadnought in galactic space, but the geth had her positively swarmed, like wasps crawling over a picnic.  Across from the ship, the Citadel continued to open, with aching slowness.  The ward arms were not sufficiently separated to safely pass between.  Not with thirteen million people riding them.

Hackett leaned forward.  “Losses would be high, but I think we could pull off a rescue.”

There was a long pause.  Shepard said, “We can’t afford it.  I’ve got Sovereign sitting on my damn head.  Eden Prime is a hole in the ground and it wasn’t even trying.  What the hell good is a Council without a galaxy?”

“You think Sovereign is that strong?”

“Yes.  If we lose this, sir, it’s over.”

“Understood.  Hackett out.”  He glanced at the lieutenant.  “Close the channel.”

He hesitated, his hand hovering over his haptic console.  “Sir-”

“Sovereign is our target.  Nothing else matters.”  Hackett nodded.  “Close the channel.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard’s hand fell from her ear.  The fleet- and Hackett, and the _Normandy_ \- had greater concerns than chatting with her.  She sat down on the edge of the walkway and stared up at Sovereign’s legs through the tall window framing the chamber.

Alenko and Liara milled about in the garden below.  From that vantage, he looked up at her, expression conflicted.  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Hardly ever.”  Her feet swung over the thin air, kicking under the platform in time to the pounding of her head, which had finally subsided to a dull ache.  The room was spinning gently.  Distantly, Shepard knew that ought to concern her, but she couldn’t seem to connect it with any semblance of action.  Just staying upright was hard enough.

“Everyone knows you and the Council despise each other,” he replied, undaunted by her snark.  “They die on your order, and everybody in this galaxy who’s not human is going to blame us.  And some of those who are.”

“What choice did she have?” Liara cut in.

“We’re saving their Citadel.”  Shepard looked down at him, a bit more seriously.  “And we don’t do curtain calls or politics.  Just our job.  They want to be bitter, that’s their prerogative.  Me, I’m happy that they’ll still be around to bitch instead of husks or slaves-” 

Liara shouted.  “Shepard!”

“What?”  Derailed, she peered into the garden.

Saren’s corpse was glowing red.

As she watched, the light became lines, running over the body and tracing the nervous system and his cybernetic implants alike.  Slowly, it rose several centimeters and began to tilt upright.

The hairs stood up on the back of Shepard’s neck.  Her fingers tightened on the pistol still in her hand.  “What the hell?”

Alenko already had his rifle aimed at the apparition.  Liara gathered dark energy into her hand.  They both backed away, almost unconsciously, as Saren’s arms and legs spread wide, drifting as though weightless.

His head snapped back.  His mouth parted and loosed an unholy wail laced with electronic noise that shook the floor.

The sound so intensified the pain in Shepard’s head that she nearly blacked out.  Beneath her the platform groaned and began to capsize.  It, too, was crawling with red light, streaming from the windows and over the entire room.  The tower shivered like a twig in autumn. 

It was too late for her to grab hold of anything.  Instead, she slid down its length and tumbled off the end, falling gracelessly into the grass.  Saren’s body was rigid, every muscle strained to breaking, his face a rictus of pure unending agony.  Fingers curled inward like claws.  Blue fluid oozed from every joint and crease, dripping off his boots.  Shepard realized abruptly that it was blood.

His illumination grew too great to look at directly.  Through shielded eyes and half-glimpsed moments, she watched a figure writhe and curl upon itself, struggling, changing.  After a few such glances she chose not to look any longer. 

The air seemed to collapse in on him.  Shepard knew that silence.  She buried her face in the dirt and covered her head with her hands.  “Get down-“

With a final screech of victory, most of what was left of Saren Arterius was blown off with enough force to knock her squad off their feet.  The explosion ripped past Shepard, tearing her hair loose and sending shards of glass and handfuls of dirt into her face. 

What was left could not be called turian.  It was skeletal; bones and sinew held together by blue-lit cybernetic lines traced with husk runes.  The eye sockets of its skull blazed with blue fire.  And within the rib cage lay a throbbing core of sick red light, the same sort as the lightning she’d seen dancing about Sovereign that day on Eden Prime. 

This figure took a cautious step, and then another.  It spoke with a thunder that emanated from everywhere and nowhere all at once.  It came out of the very walls.  “I am Sovereign, and this station is mine.”

_The implants_ , Shepard thought, remembering Saren’s alterations on Virmire.  _Holy hell.  Sovereign wired itself directly into Saren’s body._

The figure dropped to all fours, almost like a spider, and scuttled towards her with speed and coordination that defied its recent birth.  Shepard scrambled to her feet, fired and ran. 

/\/\/\/\/\

High overhead, the Alliance Fleet sailed into the station and surrounded Sovereign.  What geth ships remained inside immediately turned their attention to the new threat, reforming their line to defend their master. 

On _Normandy’s_ bridge, Joker narrowed his eyes as he prepared for his third run at the reaper.  Hackett had taken Shepard’s advice to heart.  Wherever the carriers managed to punch a hole in the geth defenses, the Alliance hammered Sovereign with all they had.  But the ship was over a kilometer long, intelligent, and shrouded in barrier technology far beyond what their heavy arms were designed to defeat.  There was nothing like it in galactic space.  And every time they made a pass, Sovereign’s cherry-red cannon beam cut through their ranks and exacted a heavy toll. 

Comm chatter grew despondent.  “Sovereign’s too strong!  We have to pull back!”

Hackett himself seized the comm in response to that.  “Negative!  This is our only chance!  Take that monster down!”

Joker pressed his lips together and concentrated on dodging part of a destroyed frigate.  Debris clogged the field.  “This isn’t working.”

He hadn’t meant to say it loud enough for the VI to pick up.  From the CIC behind him, Pressly voiced his irritation.  “What else would you suggest, Flight Lieutenant?”

Internally, Joker cursed, but he straightened in his chair and cleared his throat.  “We need to get those shields down.  Until then, the fleet’s just providing Sovereign with some target practice.”

“There must be some vulnerability-“

“This isn’t a movie!”  Joker was exasperated.  Pressly was proficient in a technical sense, coordinating the crew and providing the battery team with solid direction.  But he had none of Shepard’s instinct or inventiveness.

Of course, Joker had yet to see Shepard in an aerial battle either, so it was possible her limited experience in this arena would be as constrictive as Pressly’s.  Still, he ground his teeth.  “Sir, those shields are solid as lead.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  We won’t be able to take them offline by wearing them down, we aren’t going to find a valid join, and the only way this is going to happen is if someone on the inside disables them.”

“What are you suggesting?”  Pressly was terse, and equally out of patience.  “Shepard’s squad board Sovereign and somehow outwit an advanced AI over control of its own internal processes?”

“I don’t know!”  He rubbed his face.  He’d never admit it, but they were ten hours since taking the Mu Relay to Ilos and he was starting to feel it.  “Something’s got to give.  Because this isn’t working.”

Pressly started to respond, but was evidently distracted.  “Tali, you were given orders to stay below decks-“

“Pressly,” she cut in, panting through her ventilator.  “I’ve processed the signals coming from the tight beams linking Sovereign to the Presidium tower.”

“You mean those red lines?”  Pressly furrowed his brow.  “What about them?”

“The signal strength just increased a thousand fold.  Sovereign is dedicating a lot of processing power to keep them running- even for a ship of that size.  More if you count the fact that whatever it’s doing with them has obvious high priority.”

“What’s your point?”

“Sovereign is an AI.  If we could interrupt those communications… the backlash might temporarily disable other systems.”

Joker shook his head.  “I’m not destroying the tower.  Not with our people and god knows how many Citadel residents inside.”

“Shepard’s already inside,” Tali said.  “Maybe she can sever the connection.”

Pressly jerked his head.  “Do it.”

Tali glanced over at Bakari.  He worked the comm, then frowned.  “No response.”  He entered a few more commands.  “Nor the L.T. or T’Soni.  Something’s happened.”

Joker got the signal for his attack run and accelerated, muttering.  “This day gets better and better.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard pressed into a support beam just before a laser pulse from Saren/Sovereign would have fried her electronics.  The last one already wiped out her shields and pistol heat sink.  It wasn’t any kind of weapon she’d seen before, but it was too late to worry what else Sovereign might have installed.

Bakari garbled something into her ear.  There was no time to worry about that, either.  Her ship was going to have to look after itself for a little while.

Across the park, Liara crouched under a bush.  Thin cover, but Saren fixated on Shepard relentlessly, seeming not to care what became of her squad.  Alenko disappeared into a side hall as soon as the fighting began, shooting at Saren from its protection. 

A biotic strike caught the creature mid-leap and knocked it into the grass.  Shepard fired before it could rise, and darted to another pillar. 

Saren got his limbs back under him and sprang at wall, where he stuck like a lizard, craning his naked skull.  It was difficult to say whether their assault was inflicting any damage. 

Liara seemed to have similar thoughts.  “This isn’t working!”

Shepard rested her head against the column and tried to stop the world spinning, just for a second.  All of this had to wear him out sometime.  For all the cybernetics, there was still meat under there somewhere, right?

Alenko leaned out of the hall and sighted up along the wall.  Saren scuttled out of the line of fire.  “We have to try something else!”

Shepard was empty of ideas.  Her thoughts were fuzzy at the edges.  _If only I could sit down for a moment…_

“Look out!” Kaidan yelled.

Saren dropped down in front of her and lashed out with both skeletal arms, fingertips like claws of pointed bone.  She dodged on pure muscle memory, not enough to evade him entirely, but caught the blow on her shoulder rather than her face.  His fingers stuck under her armor plate.

He let out an unholy shriek and jerked hard enough to rattle her teeth, trying to break free.  With a grunt Shepard pivoted and slammed him into the column, and rammed her shoulder into his sternum for good measure.  She stumbled back as Saren slipped down the support. 

She tried to put some distance between them while he was off balance, but the fog in her head made her slow.  Saren snagged her ankle in a vise grip and she went down hard.  Her fingers dug furrows into the dirt as he dragged her towards him.  Shepard flailed and fought, trying to break free.

“Nathaly!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kaidan running across the garden, but Saren’s fixed fleshless grin was only a few meters away and halfway across the garden might as well be halfway across the galaxy.  HIs grip was so tight she could feel the bones grinding together.  It wasn’t hard to imagine it as her neck. 

Desperate, she twisted onto her back and fired at his arm, past caring if the shot cleared her foot.  If this thing clawed its way to any vital part of her body she was good as dead. 

Several of the rounds struck her boot and were deflected by her armor, though the bruises were already forming beneath the layers of ceramic and carbon webbing.  Saren- though scarcely armored at this point- seemed to shrug off every shot. 

Until, finally, one lodged in Saren’s elbow. 

The tension on her leg evaporated. Shepard scrambled back- the lower half off his arm still clinging to her body.  “The joints!  It’s weak at the joints!”

Her yell barely rose above Saren’s piercing scream.  Whether it represented agony or rage was anyone’s guess.  Shepard’s money was on rage.

She got to her feet, stumbling once as she discovered there wasn’t enough left unbroken in her ankle to bear her full weight, and cleared the hell out as best she could at a fast limp.

The Saren/Sovereign hybrid had no such mobility issues.  It leapt towards the ceiling and scuttled around the periphery towards Liara. 

Alenko finally caught up to her.  He stared.  “Holy hell.”

“It’s still mechanical.”  Reaching down, she pried the arm loose.  Shepard had never felt worse in her life.  She raised her gun and missed wildly.  “It’s a skeleton.  To physically destroy it you have to hit it where it counts.”

She gave him a shove.  “Cover Liara.”

“But-“

“Go.  I’ve got this.”

There was no time to argue.  He bit his lip, clearly unhappy, and took off towards Liara.  Shepard turned back to Saren, who was now crouched in a corner, singed by a biotic attack and considering his next move. 

She sucked in a breath.  _Ok.  Ok.  You did this once, you can do it again._

Her tank was beyond dry, but she reached down and scraped the scum off the bottom and moved towards Saren.

Damn, but he was fast.  She fumbled for her belt. 

He charged her.  She shot at his knee, missed, and shot again, and then a third time.  He hit the ground hard. 

The weight of a grenade filled her shaking hand.  His good arm lunged at her.  She half-fell on it, crushing the elbow with her knee, and tucked her explosive deep in the cybernetic web within his chest. 

Saren surged upward, mouth snapping at her head.  Shepard stumbled back, fell to the ground, and desperately scuttled away as he dragged himself over the grass.  Even with only two good limbs he was faster than she would have ever believed.  She dragged herself behind a column, at the utter end of strength, and tucked her head into her knees.

The grenade went off.  Saren screamed one final time, abruptly silenced.  Red light too bright to watch streamed over the walls in sheets and ribbons of robotic agony.

And then the whole tower seemed to slip sideways.

/\/\/\/\/\

The _Normandy_ sped towards Sovereign.

Joker was intent upon his target.  They’d picked up a pair of geth frigates on the way in and the pilot was forced into several desperate maneuvers to avoid their cannons.  Accelerators driven by mass effect fields still relied on metallic ammunition; the geth’s slugs sailed on ribbons on yellow, hallmarks of their velocity’s origins.

Several of the other Alliance ships on his attack run were not so fortunate.  _Normandy_ was top-of-the-line, faster and better armored.  They entered Sovereign’s engagement zone alone.

The wasp-shaped reaper shifted its giant head, lights shining like great eyes, and unfurled its tentacle-like mouthparts.  A jet of cherry red plasma shot at the heart of their ship.

Joker rolled starboard- the kind of maneuver that would shear the wings off any other frigate.  The ship’s frame groaned under the strain.  Joker grimaced and silenced an alarm.

Pressly, who had returned to the bridge- more like Mikhailovich than he ever knew- watched the sky whirl with an expression of displeasure.  “We’re surrounded.”

Joker jerked the ship up several meters, pressing the thrusters to their limit and narrowly avoiding a geth strike from behind.  “We have to get to Sovereign.”

“Negative.  Call off the run and get us out of here.  We can try again after we regroup-“

“How many ships did we lose getting here?”  Joker’s mouth settled into a determined line.  “I can do this, sir.”

“Flight Lieutenant, I am ordering you-“

Sovereign fired again.  _Normandy_ slammed hard to port.  There was a scream from the CIC.

Pressly seized the comm.  “Status!”

Bakari.  “Starboard outer engine gone, sir.  Debris penetrated the CIC.  The emergency field sealed the gap, but Serviceman Pakti’s bleeding everywhere.”

“Get him down to med bay,” Pressly ordered, as Joker cut fuel to the affected engine.  The X.O.’s attention cut to the pilot.  “Return to the fleet.”

Joker stabilized the ship, glanced up at Pressly, looked back at Sovereign, and hit several switches on his console.  Twin salvos from the _Normandy’s_ main battery streaked towards the reaper.  “Yes, sir.”

Pressly’s face went purple. 

The attack sailed through open space.  Joker turned the ship, but his eyes were fixed on the ladar.  The X.O.’s yells, the shudders of the ship, the chatter of the fleet comm faded.  His entire focus was on the two small slugs, enough to mortally wound any ship in the galaxy if placed carefully, but utterly dwarfed by Sovereign’s bulk.

“They’re going to splash against the shields,” Pressly sneered.

Joker soared over their two geth tails, disengaging them entirely, and whispered under his breath.  “C’mon, baby, go!”

The Citadel tower was aft of them now, and so Joker didn’t see the red light crawling up the walls, sucked up into its host with ever increasing speed.  Without warning a sudden surge snapped the remainder into Sovereign.  The reaper shuddered once-

_Normandy’s_ shells streaked past the shield boundary and blew a crater in the side of the ship.

Joker let out a yell.  Pressly stared at the screen.  “I don’t believe it.”

Joker threw the switch for the comm.  “ _Normandy_ to fleet, Sovereign’s shields are down.  I repeat, the shields are down!”

Hackett spoke through a burst of static.  “Form up!  We’re going in!  Carriers, break their line!  This may be the only shot we get!”

Joker took their place in the formation.  Damaged or no, the fleet would need every gun it had.  Pressly retreated to the CIC to coordinate and left the pilot alone with his thoughts.

His eyes narrowed at the reaper, a distant blot through the forward ports.  _You are mine._

“Go!” Hackett yelled.

Rivers of fighters poured from the carriers.  They raced down towards the geth fleet in an unstoppable tide.  Small, one-man craft were a novel concept in galactic warfare, and even the geth had no idea how to respond to the swarm of ships now stinging at their hides, selectively targeting weapons, engines, drives- anything to disable a ship.

In the chaos, the bulk of the fleet was able to slip past the geth and converge on Sovereign.

Hackett gave the order.  “Fire at will!  Bring that bastard down!”

The reaper was completely surrounded.  The Alliance hammered it with every weapon in their arsenal.  It loosened its grip on the tower, as if trying to flee, but the barrage quickly severed its segmented legs.  Its hull melted beneath the assault.  Slowly, unbalanced by the centripetal forces of the station it gripped, Sovereign began to fall.

/\/\/\/\/\

Shepard sprawled beneath the pillar and stared upwards at the battle, through the broken glass of the garden roof, past the mangled platform and through the tall window at the back of the chamber.

She watched Sovereign lose its grip.  A single, final arc of its cherry beam cut through a swath of Alliance ships.  She heard them scream over the comm.

Somewhere, grass was burning.  Smoke drifted over her head.  She drifted with it, disconnected from her body, every ounce of her imbued with an exhaustion so profound it made a mockery of sleep.  The pain had receded.  All she felt was curiously heavy, like a particularly damp fog rolling over the lawn.

Something began to obscure her view.  Her brow knit.  Somewhere deep inside, she roused a bit, the tattered shreds of a half-numb survival instinct trying to kick her awake.

The object grew larger.  Falling towards her?  Shepard blinked a few more times.

It was one of Sovereign’s massive legs.

Her mouth was parched.  The words were only a dry wheeze.  “Run-“ 

A little louder.  “Run!”

She threw her arm across her face.  The leg crashed through the window and buried the garden in glass and steel.


	54. Victory Night

The last of the rubble settled.  There was silence, and there was darkness.

Liara groaned somewhere below him.  Alenko was helping her up when Sovereign’s leg fell through the window, and he threw them both against a support column in hopes that it might shield them from the wreckage.  The strategy paid off. 

Alenko straightened, as much as the tomb of debris would allow, giving her some room.  Liara bent double, wheezing the dust from her lungs and cradling her broken arm.  Flakes of paint and bits of wood from the garden’s shredded trees stuck between her head crenellations.  “What happened?”

“I don’t know.”  He glanced around, cautious, worried the rubble might collapse at any moment.  All it would take was another good knock against the tower.  “Looks like they got Sovereign.”

“Where’s Shepard?”

He pointed as best he could in the cramped pocket.  “I heard her shout from over there, just before everything came down.  We need to dig ourselves out.  Then I’ll go looking for her.”

Liara shook her head and coughed.  “No.  It’s not stable.  We should wait for help.”

The floor shuddered, right on cue.  Dust rained down.  They both tensed as a screech of slipping metal came from the depths of the wreckage.  Alenko said, “We can’t stay here, either.”

He tried his comm.  The channel was a staticky mess of people calling for help, reporting status, and vainly attempting to coordinate assistance.  “Sounds like a lot of the Citadel got hit.”

“Can you reach the _Normandy_?”

“I can try.”  He opened a private channel.  “Ground to _Normandy_ , come in.”

No reply.  He waited a bit and tried again.  “Alenko to _Normandy_ , do you read?”

Liara watched him in brooding quiet.

He switched back to the fleet and attempted to lodge a distress call.  “Station to fleet, we’ve got three people trapped in the Council Chamber, over.”

The tower shuddered a second time, dislodging a strut which narrowly missed their heads.  Liara frowned.  “Perhaps you are right.  We need to find open terrain.”

“Yeah.”  He examined the debris.  “There should be a structural wall not too far this way.  If I start clearing to it, can you hold the rest?  For security.”

She nodded.  “But if it all starts to collapse- I don’t know how long.  We will need to move quickly.”

“Give me your arm.”  Alenko removed his utility belt, scraped off the various pouches, and fashioned it into a sling, strapping it down tight, good enough to hold her broken limb steady as they climbed out.

She closed her eyes and extended her good hand.  A faint glow appeared over the walls and ceiling of their cage.  Liara nodded.  Alenko began tugging at the wreckage, occasionally assisted by his biotics.  They managed to tunnel to the garden wall without mishap and located the stairwell.  When they emerged on the main level, however, they were met with a mountain of jumbled station and reaper pieces, going up at least another full story and blocking their way.

Alenko blinked.  “Whoa.”

“It is one thing to know Sovereign’s size, or see it from a distance.”  Liara stared at the remains- only the smallest fraction of the ship.  “It is quite another to see it like this.”

It was loosely piled.  Alenko peered down through it.  “Can you see Shepard anywhere?”

Liara craned her head.  “No- but there should be many pockets of relative safety.  Shepard excels at survival.”

“She was already injured.”  The thought passed to his mouth before he could silence it.

Liara touched his arm.  “I am sure she is fine.  We may crawl out of here to find her waiting for us.”

“Patience isn’t her strong suit.”

“No.”  Liara smiled.  Then her brow furrowed.  She pointed ahead.  “Look- are those lights?”

Indeed, glinting through the narrow holes, several flashlights winked in their direction.  Alenko could just barely make out several human voices, calling to each other. 

He cupped his hands around his mouth.  “Hey!  We’re over here!”

The lights turned towards them fully.  “How many?”

It sounded like Captain Anderson.  Alenko could not suppress his sudden relief that this mission was almost over.  “Two here!  Third somewhere else!”

There was a pause, and then Anderson shouted back.  “Stay put!  I’ve got a rescue squad coming across.  We’ll get you out!”

“Yes, sir!”  Alenko retreated to the security of the stairwell to wait.

He quickly regretted it.  Tunneling out had given him something to focus on.  Now- how many people were dead out there?  Was the Citadel intact?  How many ships were lost?  Was the _Normandy_ one of them?  The comm was very quiet on that subject.  God knew Joker had talent, but he was as reckless as they came.  Almost as much as-

Liara caught his expression.  “Kaidan, everything will be fine.”

He slumped against the wall.  “She didn’t call out.  This room isn’t that big.  She would have heard us.”

He told himself, as he had just after the leg landed on them, that the material was too dense to easily shout through and that’s why it would have been pointless to yell for her.  A part him hadn’t wanted to know if she wouldn’t respond.

“She could simply be unconscious,” she offered, feebly.

He snorted, not reassured.  “If that woman hits her head one more time, it’s going to pop like a balloon.”

Liara sat down across from him.  “She does seem able to shrug off an extraordinary number of things.”

“Shrug off, or power through?”  He shook his head.  “You were right.  We should have forced her to stay back with the Mako, protocol be damned.”

“And how exactly do you propose we could have done that?  To say nothing of the fact that the geth could easily have found her, alone and injured.”  She leaned forward and rested her hand on the toe of his boot, giving it a good squeeze.  “There is no point to this sort of speculation.”

Alenko crossed his arms, stubborn and anxious.  “I can’t help this kind of speculation.”

She hesitated a long moment.  “Shortly after my mother died, you and I were speaking in my lab, and I wondered whether she ever loved me.  And you told me that was the silliest thing you ever heard.”

He glanced away, looking out over the wreckage.  The rescue team was getting close, now. 

Liara withdrew and wrapped her good arm around her middle.  “You said it was obvious in cadence of her voice, even at the end, as she died.”  A helpless little laugh escaped her.  “Did you know, you can tell whether or not you’re on the deck by the way Shepard _stands_ , if you’re watching closely?  She would never leave you.  Not like this.”  She took a deep, heavy breath.  “And if you can’t see it- then you truly don’t deserve her.”

Alenko wasn’t one to believe that love had any power to prevent the roof from falling in, but as he looked up to say so, he was startled by what he saw on her face.  Liara had drawn in on herself, staring fixedly at the floor.  His brow creased.  “Liara… I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“There’s nothing to know.”  She took another breath and smoothed her hand over her broken arm, steadying it.  “I believe they are ready to take us across.”

The rescue crew laid a careful path through the debris, clearing wreckage here and shoring it up there, until they reached Alenko and Liara’s position.  The four of them wore Alliance uniforms.  Alenko figured Anderson commandeered the first squad he could find and came straight up here.  He wasn’t conceited enough to dream it was for either of them.  At times, Anderson seemed to treat Nathaly more like a daughter than a subordinate.  Not that Alenko was in a position to criticize.

The run was passable if not particularly stable.  The whole structure shook like a leaf as they crept towards the safety of the chamber’s stairs, which had once led petitioners to see the Council and was now buried in refuse from the defeat of Sovereign.

Anderson paced over it, his boots grinding it into the floor.  He looked up as they came into view, unsurprised to not see Shepard among them.  Alenko answered without being asked.  “She was on the other side of the garden, under the Councilor’s platform.  We were separated.”

His attention snapped to the rescue squad.  “Start digging.  Be careful- this whole place looks ready to come down.”

They acknowledged the order and began to spread out, searching for any sign of the commander.  Alenko made to join them.  Anderson grabbed his arm.  “Not so fast.  That’s a nasty cut on your head.”

“I feel fine, sir.”  He tugged away, irritated, and more worried than he let on.  They should have seen some sign of Nathaly by now, if she was anything less than utterly incapacitated.  And she wasn’t well enough to endure much more in the way of injury.  His gash was from the Mako accident, and he doubted it was in any hurry to kill him if it hadn’t yet.

“It doesn’t hurt to take it easy.”  Anderson looked him over.  “They’ll get her out.  Let them do their job.”

“They have some relevant training?” Alenko could not keep the skepticism from his voice.

“Support engineers from the base.  I was heading a command post there during the attack and saw Sovereign fall.”  He folded his arms.  “I followed your progress on the radio, once you contacted the fleet.”

“At least let me show them where she was-”

“You’ll stay here and let them do their jobs,” he said with a touch more sternness and less sympathy.  “That is an order, Lieutenant.”

“Sir-“

“I’ve got the med pack,” said a woman, hurrying up behind them.  Both men turned.  She was a serviceman by her insignia.  She was also short of breath, as though she’d run all way from base.  “Emergency kit, just like you ordered.”

“Good.”  Anderson pointed.  “Set it down there and see what you can do for this pair.”

“Right away, sir.”

The girl put the kit down and rummaged through it a moment.  She reached for Alenko first, holding a wad of cotton dipped in antiseptic up to his head, but he waved her off.  She pursed her lips and shoved the ball into his hand instead.  “Clean it yourself then.”

He dabbed at the cut unenthusiastically, his whole attention focused on the rescue effort, while she began to examine Liara’s arm.  Anderson’s concentration was split between the engineers and his comm.  From the one-sided snatches Alenko caught, it seemed that between the geth invasion and the disintegration of Sovereign, the entire station was a disaster zone.  Hospitals would be swamped.  He wondered if he should try the _Normandy_ again, alert Chakwas and try to convince Pressly to bring the ship to the tower.  He had a troubled inkling that whenever they unearthed Nathaly, she would be in urgent need of medical care.

Anderson was growling now, in the middle of some kind of argument.  Alenko spared him one more glance and opened his omni-tool.  Maybe he couldn’t be out in the wreckage, but there was nothing stopping him from scanning the area for a comm signal.  He filtered out those already accounted for- himself, Liara, the other Alliance personnel- and started to examine the noise.

That was when the tower trembled for a third time.

It was impossible to say what it was.  Some bit of space junk from the battle, or the shudders of a station trying to bring itself back online.  But the whole Presidium Tower vibrated like the end of a rod, cantilevering back and forth, just enough to make them unsteady on their feet- and destabilize the rubble within.

There was shouting from the engineers as the pile began to collapse in on itself.  They made for the stairs.  Without any conscious thought, Alenko started in the opposite direction, towards the pile, towards Nathaly, but Anderson grabbed him at the last second and held him back.

He struggled, and he cursed, but Anderson had the training, and Alenko had a body worn out by ten hours of constant combat.  Alenko could do nothing but watch as the metal and glass, the concrete and the trees, all of it slowly sank into the garden and filled the precious voids of safety.

In the end, all he could do was stare.  He wasn’t even cognizant when Anderson finally released him.  It didn’t seem real.  She always had a way out.  He had imagined her death more than once, but never like this- never trapped in the dark and killed by circumstance.  Never without a fight.

The medic tugged at his elbow, imploring.  “I need to treat that cut on your head, sir.”

There was no will left in him to resist.  She made him sit on the steps, his back to the wreckage, while she daubed and stitched and clucked to herself.  It was all background.  She asked him some kind of question, and he could not make sense of the words.  Then she raised her penlight, shining into his eyes, as she tried to ascertain the degree of brain damage.

This time it was Anderson who waved her off.  Peeved, she flounced away, taking the kit with her.  Alenko stared into the middle distance, at nothing at all.

Liara settled beside him.  Neither of them said a word. 

Anderson paced in silence, pausing only once.  “She didn’t call out after the roof came down?  Not once?”

Alenko shook his head at the floor.  He was more tired than he could ever recall, crushed under the weight of the emptiness gathering inside him.  The next moment was coming down the field, an event horizon bound to swallow him and impossible to see beyond, but for now, he was so overwhelmed by the last few days that it held at bay.  There was simply nothing left in him to process this on top of everything else.

Liara rested her hand on his shoulder.  He sagged underneath it.

Then there came a clatter of falling glass from the wreckage behind them.

The three of them turned as one body.  Liara’s mouth dropped open.  Anderson stopped moving; he seemed to even stop breathing.  Alenko watched the debris shift again and muttered under his breath, unable to stop himself.  “Come on…”

A ragged red bun appeared over the top of sheared-off I-beam.  It was followed by a hardsuit-clad arm, covered in dirt.

The engineers Anderson brought, the only people present not frozen in shock, hurried forward to help her over the last hurdle.  Shepard panted a bit, favoring her left leg.  She caught their stares.  “Hell of a day.”

She flashed them a brilliant smile- satisfied and not a little smug- even as she swayed on her feet.  Alenko couldn’t find his tongue, and couldn’t keep his eyes off her.  Shepard hobbled towards them and offered Anderson a sloppy salute.

He shook his head.  “I should have known.”

“Yes, sir.”  She was still beaming.  There was something almost manic in it.

Liara stared at her askance.  “Are you quite alright?”

“Been better.”  The admission didn’t touch the smile on her face.

Alenko managed to force a question out. “How?”

“I woke up in the dark.  You’re all still here so I guess it couldn’t have been long.”  She licked her lips.  For the barest second, her confidence wavered, crowded out by something blacker.  “Climbed out.  I’ve still got three good limbs.”

Anderson scanned her head-to-toe, not fooled.  “I’ll need a full report on what happened with Saren here, but it can wait.”

The tower shook again, and Liara twitched.  “Perhaps at another venue?”

The captain nodded, and turned to his engineers, giving orders and speaking into his comm.  Liara was soon drawn in, commenting on their last communications with the _Normandy_ as they tried to arrange transport.  It seemed even Anderson couldn’t get much priority.

Alenko was still watching Nathaly.  She sauntered over to him, stumbling a bit with her bad foot, and looped her thumbs through her utility belt.  They regarded each other.  “Nice job, Lieutenant.”

“Commander.”  He bit his lip.  She stood close, inside his personal space, and so fricking full of herself that he didn’t know whether he wanted to hug her or hit her.

Her eyes caught his.  They were tired, and pain was there too, but there was also laughter in their depths, and no little excitement.  Nothing made her higher than a good fight and a good win.  She was almost vibrating, like she was about to burst her skin.

_She’s alive._ It hit him in a tidal wave, and suddenly it was all he could think.  _She’s alive, oh god, Nathaly’s alive and standing right here even though she was under a hundred tons of rubble…_

She was still looking at him, as they stood there at the end together.  The mission was complete.  It should have made things simpler, but there was Anderson and at least four or five other Alliance prowling around.  There was decorum.

Nathaly licked her lips.

Alenko muttered, “To hell with it.”  In the same moment she reached for him and pulled him tight to her.

He’d spent quite a lot of time kissing her before Ilos and he still wasn’t sick of it.  His arms swallowed her.  She melted into him.  It was astonishing how soft her mouth was, soft and warm, so at odds with everything else about her.  They wound about each other.  Everything else faded out of mind.

A few paces away, Anderson was arguing with Fleet Command.  His success was mixed.  They agreed to send a transport to the Council chamber, but refused to commit to a timeframe.  He was concerned about the tower’s stability, and wanted the squad checked out by medical.  Shepard’s injury history over the last few months by itself warranted at least a cursory exam. 

The rather harassed-sounding woman from Command put him on hold while she spoke with her superiors.  He looked at the engineers.  “Go on.  We’re done here, and I’m sure they could use you below.”

The men saluted and hurried off.  Keeping his hand to his ear, waiting for Command to reply, Anderson moved on to the next item on his agenda.  “Commander, I need to know about Saren.”

There was no response.  His brow furrowed.  Liara nudged him, and nodded behind them.  “I believe the commander has other things on her mind.”

He turned, and saw Shepard and Alenko wrapped up in each other, lost in their own world.  Irritation rose, alongside contempt, but something held his ire.  Right then, there wasn’t a care in the world resting on her shoulders.  He hadn’t seen her look like that in a long time.  Anderson cleared his throat.  “Commander Shepard.”

They broke apart, a bit light-headed, not bothering to let each other go.  Alenko looked away, hiding a grin.  Shepard was flushed and happy.  “Yes, sir.”

“Where’s Saren?” he asked, a bit more patiently than he expected.

“Buried in the garden,” she promptly replied.  “I don’t know exactly what happened.  He killed himself.”

“He what?”  Anderson blinked, certain he hadn’t heard her right.

“Let’s just say there was still a spectre in him after all.”  She shook her head, and winced a bit.  “Then Sovereign… did something.  I think it wired itself into Saren through his cybernetics.  It wasn’t pretty.  We had to all but disintegrate the remains.”

“Nathaly.”  Alenko straightened suddenly, all trace of levity gone.

She turned back to him, distracted.  “What?”

He touched her ear.  His gloved fingertips came away wet.  “You’re bleeding.”

She raised her hand to her head, and stared at the blood.  “Huh.”

And then she folded up at his feet without any fuss at all.

/\/\/\/\/\

There was light, and there was noise.

Shepard was lying in a bed.  Someone had removed her hardsuit and enclosed her ankle in a temporary cast.  Medical indicators blinked and chirped around her.  There was an irritating buzz, which gradually resolved into human voices.  Indistinct blobs became people- doctors, nurses, Alliance personnel and casualties.  Shepard could have stretched out her hand and touched the next bed, where a turian missing half his arm lay groaning.  Every shout and beep and sob made her head pulse fire.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Kaidan said, in a voice that suggested he had already said it two or ten times before.

Her head tilted forward.  Two figures stood at the foot of her bed.  Kaidan had his arms crossed, stubborn to the last.  A woman, swathed in a stained white medical tunic and wearing Alliance insignia designating her as a Lieutenant Commander, put her hands on her hips.  “Triage is sending all the worst cases to the dreadnoughts.  I’ve got another group coming from the _Perugia_ in five minutes.  I’ve tried to be accommodating, but there is _no room_ for you here, Lieutenant.  I am ordering you to wait outside.”

Shepard lifted her head a little further.  It felt oddly heavy, unbalanced.  “He can stay.”

They both turned, the doctor concerned, Kaidan relieved.  He went to the side of her bed.  Shepard put her hand to her head and touched cold metal.  “What the hell-“

The doctor seized her wrist, gently but firmly, and drew it back.  “Your halo.”

“My _what_?”

Kaidan couldn’t contain a laugh, despite everything.  The doctor paid it no mind as she checked the instrumentation.  “A device for monitoring your brain function.  Don’t take it off.  You’ll set off an alarm and cause a small panic on the ward.”

An IV snaked out of Shepard’s arm.  The datapad imbedded in her hospital bed listed a dozen different medications.  “What happened?”

“Your brain hemorrhaged.  Looking over the series of head injuries documented by your medical officer, I’d say you’re lucky to be alive.”  Her dry, clinical tone revealed exactly what the doctor thought of Shepard’s cavalier treatment of her health.  “And talking, for that matter, instead of a drooling mess.”

“You were out a long time,” Kaidan said.  He looked absolutely haggard.  “Don’t do that again.”

“Sure.”  She lay back and shut her eyes.  The ward was at capacity.  Sounds of suffering, of treatment, and above all the endless talking, discussions and complaints and prayers, lanced through her skull.

The doctor queried the bed’s computer, entering a few rapid-fire commands.  “Your vitals are stronger than a few hours ago.  Can you tell me your name?”

She groaned a bit at the bureaucracy of it.  “Commander Nathaly Shepard.  It’s really fucking loud in here.”

“Can’t be helped.  We did just fight a battle.”  The doctor pursed her lips.  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“We were in the Council chamber.”  A little more trickled back.  She looked at Kaidan and sat up suddenly.  “Is the _Normandy_ -“

He pushed her back down on the pillows, not unkindly, and smoothed the sheet over her.  It sounded like maybe this wasn’t the first time he’d answered this question, either.  “The _Normandy_ is fine.  A few bumps and bruises.  They docked a little while back so Chakwas could take some of the overflow into our med bay.”

“Docked?  Just where the hell are we?”

He cringed, as though he’d been dreading the question.  “Well, the Citadel hospitals are full of civilians…”

“This is the primary medical center aboard the _SSV Kilimanjaro_ ,” her doctor answered crisply.

Shepard stared at her a moment.  “I died, and this is hell.”

“Excuse me?”

She was spared answering as a page came over the intercom, calling the doctor away.  She glanced at Shepard once in parting, exasperated.  “We’ll finish this evaluation later.  Stay put.  No taxing activities.  No books, no vids, no calls.  As for you-“

Kaidan met her glare. “I’m staying.”

The doctor heaved a sigh, apparently deciding she had more pressing concerns, and ran off in search of her other patients.  Kaidan watched her leave, and then relaxed a touch, brushing her hair off her face.  “Nathaly.”

It was half exasperation and half benediction.  “How long was a long time?”

“A few days.”

She straight up in spite of all medical admonition.  “A few days-“

He pushed her back down, again, just as gentle and as firm.  “Try not to get excited.”

She squinted up at him.  If he said he hadn’t slept in all that time, she’d believe it.  “Are you ok?”  


“I’m alright now.”  He offered her a tired smile, and sat down on the edge of the bed.  “It was a little rough there, for a while.”

There was something very dark in how he said it, despite the attempt at a lighter tone, that made her decide she didn’t want to ask anything further.  Instead, Shepard folded her hands over the sheet and sank back into the depths of the mattress, tired and already bored.  He picked up her hand and kissed her palm.  “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“I know that look.  You’re going to have to be good for a little while.  I will tie you to this bed if I have to.”

She put on her very best mock-seductive voice.  “Would you?”

He wasn’t having it.  “Yes.”

She snorted and changed the subject.  Anything to distract her from the lance stabbing through her head.  “Can you at least hack into this thing and change the name on my chart before my mom finds out I’m on her ship?”

“I imagine she’s got quite a few things on her plate right now.”  He glanced around the room.  There must have been fifty beds in this wing alone.  Dreadnoughts were the cities of the fleet.  “You probably have some margin there.”

Somewhere in the ward, a man screamed.  Shepard’s hands flew to her forehead, her face creased with pain. “I refuse to believe it’s healthy for someone with a busted brain to stay in this racket.”

“No choice, like the doc said.  You need to be in range of immediate medical help.”

“There’s always a choice,” she grumbled darkly.

“Hey, look, the bed already has restraints built into the guard rails.”

“Go to hell.”

“I thought we were already there?”  He smirked.

She glowered.  Then she grew worried.  “What about Liara?  I remember the ceiling coming down-“

He lay a hand on her shoulder, to forestall her attempting to sit up a third time.  “Liara is fine.  She was in the chamber when you crawled out, remember?  We got someone to set her arm and she left to figure out what happened to the _Normandy_ crew.”

“It’s all kind of jumbled.”  Shepard rubbed her temple under the halo.  The ceiling fell.  The next thing she knew she was climbing, hauling herself out by her arms mostly, with her one good leg to steady her.  Kissing him fiercely, brazenly, on top of the rubble…

He gathered her hand in his.  “She’s taking everything well.  She has a knack for staying calm.”

She grimaced and squirmed a bit.  He glanced at her monitor.  “You ok?”

“My stomach can’t decide if it’s famished or nauseous.”

“Probably the former.  We haven’t been fed since well before Ilos.” 

Her voice lowered, quieted, a note of real seduction.  “And whose fault is it that we missed breakfast?”

He blushed and leaned towards her, also lowering his voice.  “You might have had something to do with that.”

Her hand traced his thigh.  “I’m not the one who sleeps like the dead.”

“You did that night.  I guess you got a little worn out.”  There was mischief in his eyes.  “Would you like me to find you something to eat?”

Her mouth turned up at the corner.  “Yes, please.  Ice cream?”

For some reason he seemed to find that extremely funny, albeit in a kind of desperate way, as afraid as amused.  Her brow furrowed.  “Kaidan?”

“Never mind.  Alright.  Ice cream it is.”  He disentangled himself and stood, searching through the crowd for the door.  Then he looked back at her, abruptly suspicious.

She was exasperated.  “My ankle’s crushed.  You think I’m going to make a break for it?  Besides, I’ve got an IV.  I only have so many hands to deal with this shit.”

Clearly, doubt lingered, but he reluctantly agreed.  “Alright.  You better be here when I get back.”

“Promise.”  Shepard tried for a reassuring smile, but it came out as more of a grimace as the pain in her head and the grinding of her stomach managed to peak at the same time.

That seemed to push him into a decision.  He headed for the hatch.

Shepard waited quietly in the ward, a minute, then five, until she was sure that he was out her immediate range.  She used the time to examine the various pieces of equipment currently affixed to her body.  There was the previously noted IV and halo, as well as a wireless monitoring band on her wrist and the reusable cast on her foot.  Hard-shelled and filled with thick conforming gel, it was meant to hold a fractured limb immobile until a proper cast could be applied.  The IV was on wheeled stand rather than connected to the bed.  Small blessings.

She hadn’t lied.  She was hungry.  However, her head was absolutely killing her and all she could think of was getting someplace quiet and cool.  Gingerly, she raised herself to a sitting position, and when the room didn’t swim too badly, she tried her luck standing.  A few deep breaths and she was able to take a tentative step.  Her leg buckled under her.  Shepard cursed and grabbed at the cot.

Her ankle felt like knives were shoved through it.  Clearly, it wouldn’t bear her weight.  She appraised the IV stand.

Several minutes later, Shepard was limping out the door.  She attracted a few odd looks, but Kaidan was right about one thing- everyone aboard the _Kilimanjaro_ was far too busy to care about her.  And the passageways of the ship were darkened and gray, hollow and completely abandoned.  Elsewhere there was surely one hell of a party; the Fifth Fleet was summoned and thrown into battle with very little warning.  Nobody had any time to brood on it.  It made for an outrageous adrenaline high.

For Shepard’s part, she was injured, exhausted, and starving, and she hadn’t set foot on a dreadnought in years.  Though she started out with a vague idea of finding the _Normandy_ , as one passageway blurred into the next and she lost count of the turns, all sense of purpose faded into a heavy fog swathing her every thought, weighing them down like like syrup.  The distant ache of her ankle grew sharp and urgent.  Her head felt like rotting fruit.

Eventually she came to an intersection and couldn’t recall how she got there, or indeed where she was meant to be going.  She glanced left and right but could form no basis for a decision- the slightest effort to make one left her sick.  Even the air seemed curiously heavy, bearing down on her shoulders.

Shepard stared at the IV pole still clutched in her hand, trying to remember what it was for.  She was injured.  The Mako fell out of the sky onto the Presidium walk… but that didn’t make any sense at all.  She hit her head…  Then it was very loud.  Too loud, too busy.  At least this place was calm.

A hazy memory of Kaidan telling her not to go anywhere surfaced.  Right now, that seemed like a very good idea.  Shepard slid down the wall and resolved to sit quietly until a better one happened along.

The cold touch of the metal floor seeped up through her hospital gown.  She shut her eyes.

“Where the hell have you been?”

She started awake- if that could be called sleep.  It felt more like shutting down.  Kaidan stood over her, holding a plastic crate and looking equal parts frightened and furious.  It took her a mouth a moment to remember how to make words.  “It’s quiet here.”

“What in god’s name were you thinking?”  His voice rose, as she visibly winced.  “Have you lost your damn mind?”

She looked up into his face.  He frowned like a thunderhead.  Guilt rose, but coherency escaped her.  “I’m sorry?”

His frustration appeared to be approaching infinity asymptotically.  “You need doctors.  You need to be in a hospital.”

She shook her head, and immediately regretted it.  He sighed, and set down the crate, squatting beside her.  Turned her head towards him so he could see her clearly.  “What’s your name?”

“Kaidan, what-“

He let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a scream.  “Just answer the damn question.”

“I’m Nathaly.”

“Do you know where you are?” he asked, holding her wrist and glancing at the clock on his omni-tool.

“The _Kilimanjaro_.  Why-“

“Because you’re sitting in the middle of a hallway and I’ve been searching for you for forty minutes.  They disabled your omni-tool and your comm for treatment.”  His mouth tightened into a line.  “Treatment, I might add, of the serious head wound you sustained due to ignoring basically every piece of medical advice the past few months, so you can see how I might be a little concerned.”

A little bit trickled back.  The doctor warning her not to remove the halo.  “We can’t be that far from the medical ward if I’m still in the transmit range of the equipment.”

Kaidan apparently found nothing amiss with her pulse, because he let her go and sat back against the wall beside her.  “What are you doing here, Nathaly?”

“I… I don’t know.”  She bit her lip.  “I was… going somewhere… I’m not sure.”

“I raided the mess for you,” he said accusingly.

He pointed to the crate, which she saw then was full of ice cream.  Her eyes lit up.  “Do you have peanut butter?”

“I have peanut butter fudge.”  He reached for the goods, giving up.  “And a bottle of water.  Drink it.”

Shepard did so gladly.  Her mouth was parched.  He watched her swallow and shook his head.  “If you so much as twitch wrong, we’re going straight back.”

She popped the lid off a pint and found a spoon in the jumble of stolen pints, shifting her weight.  She had no real idea of how long she’d sat here, but from the state of her numb legs, it had to be some time.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You never do.”  He sighed and picked up his own container.  “I’m getting used to it.  Slowly.”

She dug out a spoonful and scraped it onto her tongue.  Then she frowned, peering into the container.

“Not up to your standards?” Kaidan asked dryly, licking his spoon clean.

“Are you sure this is peanut butter?”

He pointed with the flatware.  “Says so on the label.”

She turned it.  “Huh.”

Shepard tried a second spoonful.  There was something off about it she couldn’t quite place.  She stuck her nose in the container.  “This doesn’t smell like peanut butter.”

Kaidan took it from her and sniffed it himself.  “Smells fine to me.”

He reached for his sidearm and popped open the cooling chamber.  A noxious scent of metallic air, grease, and coolant drifted up from it.  “Can you smell that?”

She shook her head and bit her lip.  He held her gaze for a long moment.  Then he activated his omni-tool.  


Shepard pushed his arm down.  “Please don’t call them.”

“You’ve lost your sense of smell.  That’s what they call a symptom.  I have to call them.” 

“Kaidan-“

He looked at her.  “When Sovereign fell down on us I thought you were dead.” 

She licked her lips.  Sat back against the wall, folding her arms over her chest and tangling her IV line.  He touched her shoulder.  “All I’m asking is that you act like this is important.  Because it is important. This is a bit more than a bad day at work.  But if you won’t do it for that reason, do it for me.  Just one night, let me take care of you.  Please?”

Shepard took a breath and nodded curtly.  Kaidan gave her a small smile, and made the transmission to the hospital deck.  It took a few minutes to get the right doctor, and a few more to explain the situation.  To her surprise, Kaidan didn’t insist upon an immediate return; instead, he simply explained that the noise was aggravating her injury and that her nose appeared to no longer work.  There was a bit of back and forth.  The doctor asked to speak to Shepard and ran through another assessment.  In the end, she agreed that so long as things didn’t get worse, they could continue to monitor her at a distance.  Shepard definitely got the feeling this was more because things were too hectic and beds too short to argue with a patient who didn’t seem to care about her own safety, but she’d take what she could get.

She picked out a different flavor, one not dependent on her sense of smell to get the full experience.  “At least she said anosmia is usually temporary.”

“You would choose a time like this to start being an optimist.”  But there was more teasing than chiding in his tone.  It appeared that whatever her bullheadedness, tonight he was willing to let it go.  He plopped another spoonful of rocky road into his mouth.

Shepard dithered with the container of cookie dough, watching him obliquely.  All she could see of him in the shadows of the _Kilimanjaro_ passageway was a profile in shades of light and dark.  “When we woke up on the ship at Ilos, you said you loved me.”

“Yep.”  He licked the back of the spoon, rather proud of himself.

She bit her lip and pressed forward.  “Did you mean it?”

He put down the spoon, insulted.  “Of course I meant it.”

“I didn’t mean-“  The tone of protest collapsed as she hunted for an explanation.  “Was it a ‘we just had sex and it was really nice’ I-love-you, or an ‘I’m sleepy and warm and this feels good’, or ‘I like this arrangement’, or- what did it mean?”

He snorted and went back to his ice cream.  “I didn’t realize you were a buffet.”

“Kaidan, I’m trying to be serious.”

“I don’t know how to answer a question like that seriously.”

She rolled her eyes and looked down at the ice cream, taking another spoonful.  “I just want to know where things stand.  There’s love, like the kind we have for frozen desserts, and there’s love with a capital L.  I don’t think it’s unreasonable to want to know which it is.”

He set down the pint and squeezed her leg.  “I said it because I love you.  All of you, all of this, as crazy frustrating as it can be sometimes.  What are you so worried about?”

Shepard licked the spoon clean by way of procrastination, taking her time.  “I didn’t say it back.  Doesn’t that bother you?”

“You kissed me like that was what you meant.”  Alenko shrugged.  “You have a lot of bad history.  I figured you weren’t ready yet.  It’s ok.”

Her bark of laughter was immediate.  His brow furrowed.  “What’s so funny?”

“This.  Us.”  She shook her head, winced, and stopped.  “We must be really high off the last few days, because relationships are never this easy.”

He snuck his arm around her waist and kissed her lightly.  “Well, don’t waste it sitting here trying to make trouble.”

“But making trouble is what I do best,” she teased, but there was uncertainty behind it.

He pulled her a little closer.  “There will be moments when it’s hard.  We’ve still got the fraternization thing to figure out.  There’s a bigger war coming, and this isn’t a safe job.  But right now, we’re sitting on a field of victory with more ice cream than two people could possibly eat and a whole night to ourselves.  Why shouldn’t this part be easy?”

There wasn’t anything she could say to that, so they leaned into each other and continued eating, swapping pints to try everything, lids and melting cardboard containers scattered about their legs. 

“You want to know the truth?” he asked, after a while.

Shepard had started to drift off again, lying against him and picking at her ice cream.  She jostled into wakefulness.  “Sure, anything.”

 

Still, he hesitated.  “I realized I loved you on Feros, while I was watching you wake up the last night we were there.”

“Ok, now you’re just making fun of me.”

“It’s true,” he insisted.  “I kept expecting it to fade, as the mission got more urgent, as we got closer, because I was absolutely infatuated and there’s no way that could last.  But exactly the opposite happened- it got more solid, more real.  You make my head spin.”

She bent towards him, her mouth finding his for a long moment before they parted.  Her head leaned

back against the wall.  “I’ve said the words to a lot of people for not the greatest reasons and it feels a little cheap now.”

His finger traced her jaw line.  “You were always better at talking with actions anyway.”

She pressed into him again.  He set the ice cream aside and wrapped her fully in his arms.  It was just starting to get good when her vision blurred out and she broke off, with a small sound of pain.

Kaidan was instantly concerned.  “What is it?”

She gestured vaguely at her head.  Closed her eyes and tried to swallow the sudden nausea. 

A second or an hour later, he shook her shoulder, once.  “Nathaly?”

She took a breath.  Tried to remember the question.  Blinked up at him.  “What?”

“Ok, that’s it.”  He stood and hauled her to her feet, tucking his arm under her shoulders.  “Can you manage the IV?”

She tried shaking her head, but only got halfway through.  Looked down at the scattered containers.  “There’s ice cream?”

“We were just eating it.”  He collected the stand in his free hand, carefully looping the line so she wouldn’t trip.

That sounded right.  But it left her truly unsettled, even a little scared.  “What’s happening to me?”

“You’re having what we call a head injury,” he said, no edge at all, but completely out of patience.  “The next few days or weeks are going to be like this.  Mind your step, that’s it.”

She stumbled along on her bad ankle, leaning on him.  “Like what?”

He rolled his eyes.  “Like having fifteen minutes’ worth of energy followed by a complete collapse if you overdo it.  Come on.”

She made a weak protest.  “Not going back-“

“I’m not taking you back to the hospital deck.  Clearly, they don’t have enough people to keep an eye on you.”  He shifted his grip, letting them walk a little straighter.  “We’re going to the _Normandy_.  If nothing else, Chakwas won’t let you run off again.”

That rang a bell.  “That’s where I meant.”

“Well, at least some small part of your brain is still working.”  But he said it grudgingly, as if he wasn’t half-amused by her antics.

Shepard decided to do the smart thing, for once in her life.  She let her weight rest on him and shut her eyes, trusting him to lead her, half-asleep, to the _Normandy’s_ berth.

She roused a little as they reached the hatch.  Kaidan tagged it open, and they stood in the airlock awaiting the decontamination protocol.  She didn’t remember it having that high-pitched whine.  “How are we getting down the stairs?”

“Patience and perseverance.”  He tagged open the inner hatch and helped her into the CIC.

The VI greeted her as she passed through the hatch, pleasantly informing her that the X.O. was not aboard.  It seemed nobody was.  Only the emergency lighting was powered up, leaving most of the ship in shadows.

“Wait,” she said, as he tried to tug her towards the stairs. 

“What is it-“

“Just… wait.”  She stared at a particularly dark patch off the starboard bulkhead.  She hobbled forward, belatedly assisted by Kaidan, IV dragging behind her. 

“Forget tying you to the bed.  I should have had the doctor knock you out-“

She stumbled along faster.  “That’s a hole in my ship.”

“The outboard engine was hit.”  He attempted to corral her IV without losing his grip under her shoulders.

“That’s a _hole_ in my _ship_.”  Her hand touched the ragged edge of sheared metal, splintered plastic, tangled wires and torn materials of less determinable origin, spilling out of the hull void.  “It penetrated the crew area?”

“Must’ve hit it just right.  Tore the wing in half but you don’t really need it in vacuum, thank god.”

She crouched down beside it, her eyes following the trail of debris to the galaxy map.  “Kaidan.”

“I know it looks bad.  But Liara said there was only one minor injury.”

Shepard stared in disbelief.  “Pure luck.”

“Hey, I’ll take it.”  He tugged at her arm.  “Come on.  I need to get you to med bay.”

She started to let him pull her up, when she heard the sound of the hatch cycling and froze. 

“Probably just someone stumbling back drunk,” Kaidan said, but his eyes had gone towards the bridge, his hand sliding automatically to his sidearm. 

Footsteps on the stairs.  A figure striding past without noticing them, shrouded in the dim light.  Someone stepped through the hatch and tripped over the nearest couch, cursing, rubbing at his shin.  “You’d think we could leave the lights on.”

It was Engineer Adams.  The second figure stripped off her exam gloves with a touch of exasperation.  “There’s no reason for it.  Greg, I told you I couldn’t-“

“I know that.  I know you’ve got more important things to do.”  He held something out to her.  “So I brought you this.”

Even through the shadows it was clear the look Chakwas gave him was quite dry.  However, she took the package and peeled off the lid.  “I was expecting pretzels and popcorn.”

“They’re breaking out a lot of the good stores.”  He stuck his hands in his pockets and smiled. 

She chuckled, and tilted her head.  “I need to return to the med bay.  Thank you.”

Chakwas leaned forward and kissed his cheek, with evident affection, before starting to turn back to the stairs.  Adams took a step after her.  “I’m kind of sick of the party, if you need any help.”

“You’re a medic now?”  She raised an eyebrow.

“No, but I’ve got a set a hands.”

She regarded him, shook her head and smiled.  “Alright.”

Shepard turned towards Kaidan and put her hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh.  He shrugged, equally amused.  And there it would have ended if not for the doctor’s eagle eyes.  “Commander, is that you slinking in the corner?”

“No,” she said, reflexively.

Chakwas moved closer.  “ _And_ Kaidan.  I would have thought at least you would have a sense of responsibility.”

He held up his hands.  “This is not my fault.”

“She’s not precisely all-hands-on-deck at the moment from what her doctor relayed.  If you can’t outwit her now, I’m afraid you’re done for.” 

Alenko went red.  Chakwas walked up to Shepard, all business, and held her omni-tool up to her halo.  “Hmm.”

Shepard folded her arms, or tried to.  The IV made a mess of every movement.  “Hmm?”

“If you won’t stay put aboard the _Kilimanjaro_ , I suppose I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”  She glanced at Alenko.  “Can you get her downstairs?”

He nodded.  “Yes.”

“Let’s get on with it then.”  Chakwas returned to the stairwell and disappeared through the hatch. 

Alenko pulled Shepard a bit closer, getting a better grip on her before attempting the stairs, and exchanged a nod with the engineer with as much dignity as he could muster.  “Adams.”

“Alenko.”  Adams seemed to be similarly chagrined.  He tagged the hatch open for them and trailed behind.

The stairwell wasn’t really wide enough for two people.  It was slow going.  Shepard grumbled, “I bet they put an elevator that runs all three decks in the next Normandy-class frigate.”

“Planning to requisition an upgrade?”

She paused in her step, abruptly serious.  “No.  No, this one’s mine.  Ours.”

He kissed her forehead, and they continued down to Deck 2.


	55. The New Normal

“Dad, no, I-“  Shepard waited for him to take a breath.  “I’m fine.  It’s a bump on the head.”

That prompted another round of ranting, culminating in a recitation of her irresponsible behavior, word for word the lecture her mother gave her that morning, though her father’s chastisement was far more hot-blooded.  “It’s not fair that you both can be several thousand light years apart and still gang up on me.”

“Your mother said you yelled.  There’s no call for that.  She was worried about you.”

“Well, maybe if my mom had shown up instead of Captain Shepard-“

“It’s her ship, Zey-Zey.  What do you expect her to do?  Come to you weeping?”

Shepard was back in the _Kilimanjaro’s_ med bay, firmly tucked into bed.  At some point she’d fallen asleep aboard the _Normandy_ , and woken up here- and once the doctor figured out that this Shepard was Hannah Shepard’s daughter, the news flew up the chain of command.  She seemed to relish Shepard’s discomfort after making her night so difficult following the battle.

Nine days later, at least she’d finally been permitted to ditch the halo, if not the doctor’s attentions.  That was a relief.  It monitored _everything._   And Shepard had been hiding her nightmares and insomnia for a long time.  For now, either her injury or one of her medications was blocking both. 

She pushed her hair off her forehead.  “Letting me do medical leave on my own ship might be a good start.”

“A frigate’s med bay doesn’t have good equipment for this.”  Her father paused.  She could just see him crossing his arms and chewing his cheek like he did when he was thinking, plain as if this were a vid call.  “I’m coming out there.  I’ll take a shuttle tonight.”

“Dad-“

“And don’t you try to talk me out of it.  You’re wasting your breath.”

“It’s not like I’m the only one who’s sick.”  Shepard was alarmed.  “You can’t travel off-world.  Five different doctors have told you-“

“My daughter is in the hospital.”  He said it in the manner of a man laying down an ace.  There was never any doubt where Shepard got her stubborn streak.

“I don’t think ruined joints care about the circumstances.  When was the last time you were in a full gee?”  The Presidium might be a bouncy 0.3g, about equivalent to Mars, but the _Kilimanjaro’s_ artificial gravity was set to human standard.

This appeal to reason fell on deaf ears.  “I was born on Earth.  I grew up on Earth.  My body has what it needs to handle standard gravity.  And I’ve been feeling much better since they installed that new humidifier, so I think I can handle one little trip.”

“That’s why you need to stay in the humidifier, dad.  So you keep feeling better.”  Shepard sank into her pillow and ran her free hand over her face.  The other was glued to the communicator in her ear.  Her doctor had re-enabled it only yesterday- she was still waiting on her omni-tool and terminal access.

A pause, a longer one.  “Maybe I show up anyway.  Would you refuse to see me if I were already there?”

Something elusive in how he said it triggered an intuitive leap.  “Mom said no, too, didn’t she.”

“You know, when I met your Uncle Connor, he told me all the O’Malley women were trouble,” he grumbled.  “And once I saw that red hair I knew you’d be the same and I was outnumbered.”

“I am nothing like mom.”

He laughed.  “You are exactly like your mother.  Someday you’ll see it.”

The hatch to her room opened, admitting Kaidan, who was carrying a bag.  He caught sight of her mortification and raised his eyebrows.

She held up her hand, begging patience.  Her father had launched into a story.  “When you were ten, you stopped speaking to each other.  You wrote her notes when you needed something, structured just like her memos.  You even made navy letterhead, for the _SSV Lightbreaker_ after that cartoon you loved-“

“Dad.”  Shepard sighed.  He continued to chuckle to himself.  “Dad, my boyfriend just walked in, he’s going to think we’re crazy so I’m letting you go.  We’ll talk again soon.”

“Too late,” Alenko muttered, not loud enough to transmit.  She swatted at him.  He dodged easily.

The laughter stopped.  “Who?”

“It’s a bump on the head,” she emphasized firmly, evading.  “Don’t listen to mom.  Don’t buy shuttle tickets.  Love you.”

She terminated the transmission before he could press and looked up at Alenko, exasperated.  “Did you bring the stuff?”

He tossed the bag on the bed.  “If anyone asks, you didn’t get this from me.  I won’t be responsible for ruining your carefully structured hospital diet.”

Shepard dug into the paper sack and removed a sugar-crusted doughnut.  Her eyes lit up.

He sat on the bed and watched her eat.  The cut on his head was healing well.  In another week, Shepard doubted there would be so much as a scar.  “I think people would be less scared of you if they realized sucrose is your kryptonite.”

“That and hot baths.”  She took another bite, chewed and swallowed.  “Can’t get one of those even on a damn dreadnought.  I’ve looked.”

“You did not sneak out again.”

Shepard burst out laughing at his offended expression.  “When I was thirteen, Kaidan.  My mom did a tour on the _Tai Shan_.”

“Ah.”  He had the grace to be embarrassed.

“Any news?  I’m still on strict orders not to watch any of the vids.  Passively consuming electromagnetic waves will make my brain overheat, or something.”

He searched through the sack and selected a cinnamon twist for himself.  “Well, the Citadel’s pulled itself together enough that people are starting to ask questions.”

Her light mood evaporated by inches.  “Like what?”

“Like what happened to the Council, how Sovereign got to the Citadel in the first place, and who was giving the orders.”  He met her eyes, troubled.  “Nobody wants to hear about reapers.  And nobody seems to know whether they should be thanking the Alliance or putting us on trial.”

“You’ve had some time now.  Still think it was a bad call?”

“We’re going to pay for abandoning the _Destiny Ascension_ for a long time.  There’s some friction down in the wards between C-Sec and the navy.  But Sovereign went down hard.”  He ran his hand over his hair and blew out a breath.  “If we saved her, and she could still fight?  It might have made up for the losses.  If she were crippled… I’m not sure we would have made it.  And maybe with those stakes you have to choose to expect the worst.”

She hid her amusement.  He was trying so hard to be polite in his disagreement, which was apparently still quite strong.  “But it’s not the choice you would have made.”

“No.”  Alenko shrugged.  “Sorry, ma’am.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “Did you just ma’am me in my own hospital room, eating my own doughnut?”

“I bought them,” he protested.

She set the bag on the nightstand, out of his reach.  “They’re mine now.  And you can’t pretend you didn’t realize this would happen, after begging you for ice cream.”

“I’m surprised you remember any of that.  You were really out of it.”  He glanced around.  The space wasn’t big- there was barely enough room for the three pieces of furniture- but it was isolated.  “At least they finally gave you a private room.”

“The sole benefit of being the X.O.’s daughter.  I made a passing complaint about the noise when she came to see me, and ten minutes later I was wheeled in here.”

“The doctor wasn’t joking about needing to rest your brain.  A loud shared bay doesn’t help.”

Shepard polished off the doughnut and licked her fingers, electing to change the subject.  Injuries were nothing new.  She’d been hurt plenty of times, concussed even, sometimes because her enemies outsmarted her and sometimes because she made a mistake.  This one worried her.  Long-term problems, the kind that could see her out of a job, were not only possible but likely.  She didn’t want to dwell on it.  “How’s the gigantic hole in my ship?”

“Under repair.  It’s just as well.  The crew might mutiny again if they were asked to leave without their skipper.”  He grinned.

She laughed, a bit self-consciously.  “Speaking of mutinies…”

“I was wondering when you were going to ask.  A few of the stuffed shirts back on Arcturus tried to make a fuss about our escape maneuver.  One of them apparently raised the possibility that you lured Sovereign to the Citadel.”

“What?”  She didn’t know whether the idea was mortally offensive or a whole week’s worth of entertainment in a single sentence.

“Yeah.”  He seemed similarly conflicted.  “Hackett shut that down.  He also made it very clear that the _Normandy_ belongs to the Fifth Fleet, and as the fleet commander, he would not be authorizing any investigation into the actions of the crew.”

“Soap operas have nothing on military politics.”

“You said it.”  He leaned back and crossed his legs.  “I guess we got away with it.”

She shifted to allow him more room.  “I’m not complaining.”

There was a knock on the hatch. 

“Enter,” Shepard said.

It slid open to reveal Garrus Vakarian standing at the door.  He took in the limited space.  “Three’s a crowd in this room.”

Alenko glanced between them.  “I should go.  I’ve got orders to report to an aid station in Shalta Ward at 1300.”

“They’re really making use of every spare set of hands, huh?”

“I volunteered.”  He smiled and squeezed her hand.  “I’ll be back when I can.”

Garrus stood aside as he passed, exchanging a nod.  Then he stepped inside and stood awkwardly at her bed.

She looked him up and down.  “Is that a C-Sec uniform?”

“Well.”  He looked off, faintly embarrassed.  “I thought about it.  The Citadel’s in shambles.  They can really use my help.  And…”

“And what?”  Both of her eyebrows had disappeared into her hair.  After all his grousing, the last thing she expected was for him to return to his post.

“I’ve always believed in doing the right thing, but I never had any patience for the right way.  It always seemed like a waste of time.  And it always seemed like the people who insisted on the right way cared more about the rules than the outcome.”

“What changed?”

“I met this crazy human commander and served aboard her ship.”  His seemed entertained by the absurdity.  “I’d never seen anyone who believed in the right way but struggled so much with it.”

Her disbelief grew.  “Gee, Garrus, you sure know how to sweet talk a girl.”

“There’s no virtue in doing something that comes easy,” he said, ignoring the sarcasm.  “But you do it even when it damn near kills you, even when it runs counter to your nature.  You live what you believe instead of just falling into it.  You made me think it could be worth a try.”

“And C-Sec is you doing things the right way?”

“Yeah.  On my terms this time.”  He smiled, a bit embarrassed a bit proud all at once.  “And if you can do it, I’ll be damned if I can’t.”

She tilted her head.  “You tell your dad?”

A shadow crossed his face.  He grimaced.  “Not yet.  I didn’t exactly tell him about leaving either, but word got back.  He sent me a blistering email.”

“You should tell him,” Shepard said.  “Yeah, he’ll gloat a bit, but he’ll also be happy that you found your way.”

“The suit itches more than I remember.”  He ran his finger around the collar.

“It looks good on you.”  She smiled.

“It’s bad down there, Shepard,” Garrus said, more soberly.  He took up the room’s sole chair and sat it backwards, draping his arms over the top.  “We’ve got citizens running through the wreckage, searching for the missing and the dead.  Most of them don’t have homes to go back to.  A theater collapsed and killed almost a thousand people- and that’s just one building.  Hundreds are destroyed.  The emergency atmo containment fields are on the fritz.  And on top of all that, we’re still finding geth units hiding out in the ruins.”

“Abandoned by their master, their fleet scattered…”  After Sovereign’s destruction, what remained of the geth fleet had fled for the relay.  About half of those made it.  The rest were wiped out by Alliance forces.

“Sovereign and Saren are both gone.  It’s hard to read the machines, but they don’t seem to know what to do next.”

“Tali must be happy.”  The geth had driven the quarians from their homeland.  Fighting them off here had to yield some satisfaction.

“Tali is…” He paused, considering.  “Tali is talking about going home.  It’s time, she said.  I’m not sure she wants to go.”

Shepard’s brow wrinkled. “She loves the Migrant Fleet.”

“Maybe she learned to love being on her own, too.”

“You can’t go home again.”  She folded her arms and sighed.  “I’ve tried.”

“That’s the damn truth if I ever heard it.”  Garrus’ gaze wandered over her face, speculating.  “How are you, really?”

“Wondering what’s next,” she said honestly.  Shepard tapped her head.  “I don’t know how long it will take for this to get better.  I don’t know the reapers’ next move will be.  I don’t know what Command will do with any of us.”

“Wondering what the new Council might make of you?”

“Is there one yet?”  She’d been paying attention to the rumors, because her interest was keen, but so far there was nothing concrete.

Garrus shook his head, negative.  “Not yet.  But it won’t take long.  That type of vacuum sucks away at the whole galaxy, day by day, until something plugs it.”

“Instability,” she said.

“The exact thing all three Council races despise most.”  He stood.  “I should get back to it.  I just wanted to stop by and say- good work.”

Shepard looked up at him.  “Take care, Garrus.  Don’t be a stranger.”

His mandibles flared, revealing a grin.  “I’d say take it easy, but I doubt you’d listen anyway.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Her physical therapist was annoyed. 

Shepard shared the sentiment.  “You told me to walk.  I walked.”

“I said fifteen or twenty steps.”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“You were halfway to the elevators before security physically stopped you!”  His voice went up a notch.  “I had to _summon_ security to stop you!”

Her ankle ached something horrible, but as far as Shepard was concerned, that meant it was getting better.  “This isn’t my first broken bone.  I know how far I can push myself.”

“You understand this isn’t your basic break.”  He crossed his arms and glared down at her.  She sat on a bench just outside the med bay.  It was a high traffic area, and they were making a bit of a scene.  “Your ankle was crushed.  There are dozens of fractures of various sizes, and bruising on the bones where they ground together.  You could do permanent damage.”

“That’s why I didn’t run,” she explained, patiently.

“Are all spectres this full of bullshit?” he snapped before he could think better of it.  Then he paled.  “I’m sorry, Commander- ma’am.”

Shepard sized him up.  She outranked him by more than a few tiers.  Judging by his awkwardness now and the shiny on his shoes, he hadn’t been out of training very long.  Her eyes narrowed.  “I was out chasing batarians while you were sweating it through your middle school formal.  Don’t tell me about broken bones.” 

“Please let me do my job,” he pleaded.  “I don’t want to be the guy who got Commander Shepard retired.”

The elevator at the end of the hall dinged.  Liara stepped off, holding a bouquet of yellow tulips wrapped in plastic.  She paused upon catching sight of them.

“Liara,” Shepard said, waving her over.  She gestured at the physical therapist, flippant.  “Meet this afternoon’s warden.  This is Dr. T’Soni.”

“Don’t torment the boy,” Liara chided.

“Oh, if you insist.”  Shepard was sour.  She looked up at him.  “The brain doc doesn’t let me out of bed much.  I just want to sit here awhile and enjoy the change of scenery.  I’ll head straight back to my room when I’m done.  Cross my heart.”

He drew himself up and folded his arms.  “You’ll call me, and I’ll bring a chair.  You’ve walked enough for today.”

She rolled her eyes but acquiesced.  “Done.”

He stalked off, shaking his head.  Liara sat down, gingerly, beside her.  She held out the flowers with a tentative hand.  “I heard that this was a custom among humans when one finds themselves convalescent.” 

Shepard took the bouquet, a bit surprised, though not displeased.  “They’re lovely.  Thank you.”

Liara fidgeted with her hands and looked down in her lap.  In two weeks since the battle, her arm had been upgraded from an immobilizing cast to a hard-shelled cuff surrounding the break.  The miracles of modern medicine.  “Truthfully, I’m relieved to see you up and about.  Neurology has never been my forte, but anyone could see your injury was severe.”

Shepard set the flowers aside and crossed her arms, slouching on the bench.  “It wasn’t that bad.”

Liara gave her a very strange look.  “Yes, Shepard, it was.”

Not wanting to dwell on it, she changed the subject.  “How have you been?”

She pursed her lips, as if considering saying something further, but decided to let it lie.  “I’m afraid I have been at loose ends since that night.  There is not much call for an archaeologist in a disaster.”

“Maybe it’ll give you some time to catch up on your research?” Shepard suggested.  She knew how passionate Liara was about the Protheans.  “Ilos must’ve given you fuel for a half-dozen papers, at least.”

That seemed to only further dampen Liara’s spirits.  “I’m… afraid that won’t be possible.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s rather embarrassing.”  Liara tilted her head and swallowed.  She twiddled her thumbs.  “It seems that after five months of truancy, my university has determined they no longer have need of my services.”

“What?”  Shepard was truly shocked.  “You’ve visited more ruins in those past five months than most of them do in five years.”

“Be that as it may.”  She looked up at Shepard and tried for a careless smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.  “My theories were never very popular among the faculty.  I neglected my other duties, like taking on graduate students.  And I was away often even before all this.”

“And you just found this out now?”

“I got the official letter two days after- two days after Virmire.  It did not seem an appropriate time to mention it.”

Shepard put her hand over hers, at a loss.  “You should have said something.  I know I was not exactly…  This sort of thing, I’d never not want to know.”

“It’s only a job.”  She shrugged, a pretense of indifference.  “However, without my university standing, it is unlikely many reputable journals will publish my work.”

“That’s no reason not to do it.  I’m sure you didn’t get into archaeology out of a desire for university standing.”

That drew a smile, small, but honest.  “In any case, I am unemployed and without family.  It seems I have some personal matters to sort out before I can think about my research.”

Shepard had always been curious, but never asked.  “Benezia was your only family?  What about your father?”

“I do not know who she is.  She was another asari, a somewhat scandalous thing in my culture.  Pureblood, we call it.  Many believe it breeds weakness, or at the very least is a lost opportunity for growth.”

She spat the term like it was dirty in her mouth.  Shepard read it for the insult it was.  “You are not a lost opportunity.  You’re not weak, either.  Anyone who’d say so deserves a boot in their ass.”

“Thank you.  It’s not necessary, but thank you.”

Something about the situation still felt unsatisfied, so Shepard ventured further.  “If it’s a roof you’re looking for, I don’t have any plans for _Normandy’s_ lab.”

Liara blinked and looked at her fully for the first time since sitting down.  “I can’t ask that of you.  You needed help unraveling the Prothean mystery.  We succeeded.  We found Vigil, and we defeated Sovereign.  I’m sure you need to return to your usual duties.”

“This isn’t the end.  The Protheans are my only link to the reapers.  And I bet they’re going to wonder what in the hell happened to Sovereign sooner or later.  When they do, I want us ready and waiting.”  But that wasn’t a good answer.  Shepard dropped the formality and relaxed against the wall.  “Liara, I don’t have many friends.  Not real ones.  Not good ones.  So long as I’ve got a ship, you’ve got a place on her, for as long as you want it.”

Liara’s smile grew, and continued growing, until it was like the sun, warm and chasing the shadows from the hall.  She held Shepard’s hand.  “I don’t have many friends either.  Perhaps we do not need many.”

/\/\/\/\/\

The weeks dragged on.  Shepard was thoroughly sick of hospital beds, hospital food, and hospital staff, and starting to resent the hell out of how she still spent half the day sleeping despite her best efforts.  The doctors had finally allowed her access to a terminal.  She took her time writing the report of what occurred on Ilos, and in the Council chamber, wanting to get every detail right.  The closer she got to Saren’s death the more muddled her memory became.  Everything after the Conduit was porridge in her mind.  A memory stood out here and there, without context or supporting detail.  She was frustrated.

It was difficult, too, to recall everything Vigil had told them, due to the sheer volume of information as much as a cracked head.  She spared nothing on the reapers.  The longer she thought about it the more certain she became that the time they afford to concern themselves with how the galaxy might perceive that news had long since passed.  She showed her initial findings to Kaidan and Liara, who supplemented the report with their own memories.  Shepard hoped between the three accounts she’d pieced most of it together. 

It was an altogether sad and unnerving tale.  She couldn’t fault anyone who didn’t want to believe it, though she could blame them for failing to act.

Her newly-unlocked omni-tool blinked an incoming transmission as she was putting on the finishing touches.  She slapped it without thinking.  “Speak.”

The image scanner popped open.  Wrex crowded into the frame.  “Shepard.”

“Wrex.”  She relaxed, happy to put aside her work.  “What drags your sorry hide to the comm?”

“They said you were still stuck in some kind of fancy hospital.”  He shifted a bit.  She caught a glimpse of a throng of people milling beyond him.  “I figured it’d be a trick to get a krogan on a human dreadnought, so I wanted to give you a call.”

“What’s the occasion?”

He growled.  “I’m leaving.  Didn’t want to go without telling you myself.”

The mission was wrapped up.  There wasn’t much left for Wrex with them, and he was a mercenary, not a soldier- and one who was going unpaid, at that.  All the same, she sagged against the elevated mattress, disappointed.  “I guess we never did find Fist.”

“Fist?”  Wrex laughed.  “I don’t care about him.  Doubt I’d get paid at this point, even if he’s still sucking down air, somewhere.  No, it’s just time.  My feet are itching for some real work.”

“Real work.”  She snorted.

“You know what I mean.  Once the fighting’s done I’m about as useful as a pyjack in a garage.”  He rolled his shoulder.  “I got a lead on a job out near Sigurd’s Cradle.  Gotta move fast.”

“I thought you might be thinking of going back to Tuchanka.”

“Tuchanka?  Why?”  His tone had an edge that said he knew exactly why.

“You can piss your life away running errands for other people if you like.  It’s interesting enough.  I don’t think it’s what you want.”

“You’re one to talk about what you want.”

“That’s how I know.”

He was quiet a long moment, grimacing.  “I don’t know what difference it would make.  Droyas didn’t have any answers worth repeating.  It’s not like we’ve never looked for a cure.  And when I tried to get people to learn how to live with it… It didn’t end so well, Shepard.”

“It’s not the end until you decide to stop trying.”

Wrex was frustrated, but not because of her.  He ground his teeth.  “I’ll think about it.  Anyway, this isn’t the only reason I called.”

Tali crowded into the frame.  “Hi, Shepard.”

Her heart sank further.  She didn’t know why.  This was expected; finish the job and people move on.  But they’d been a good team.  More than that.  “You’re leaving, too?”

“The first leg of the trip should take me near the Migrant Fleet.  I decided not to travel alone.”  She seemed anxious, and a little guarded.  “I know it’s sudden, but-“

“Tali, you don’t have to apologize.”  Shepard had to laugh a bit, despite the sense of sadness.  “You’re going home.  I know how important your pilgrimage is to you.  I’m glad we were able to help.”

“I wasn’t expecting to leave so soon.  I received a transmission from my father.  He was not- he has never thought operating as an engineer aboard a human ship was a valuable use of my time, but interfering with a pilgrimage is taboo.  It undermines the whole purpose of it.”

She seemed to go out of her way to excuse whatever it was her father had said.  Shepard frowned.  “Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine.”  Tali collected herself.  “I have been a little… light on the details the few times we have spoken.”

“So plenty about the _Normandy,_ a little about the geth, nothing about the getting shot?” Shepard asked, shrewdly.

“Exactly.”  Tali almost smiled.  “So you see, he doesn’t really understand what I’ve been doing.  That is not his fault.  Some things have happened on the fleet and it’s best if I return sooner instead of later.”

It was easy to forget how young Tali was.  Barely an adult.  Shepard’s parents might be an exasperation, but she knew where she stood with them.  Tali was still defining that critical boundary between daughter and individual.  “Stay in touch.  I mean it.”

“You too, Shepard.”  It was impossible to tell through the mask, but Shepard thought she was smiling.

“If things don’t work out the way you’re expecting…”  Shepard trailed off, trying to make the offer in a way that wasn’t patronizing.  “You know all you need to do is ask.”

“I’ll be ok.”  The declaration was delivered as a mix of exasperation and defensiveness.  “You should speak for yourself.  You’d be on duty right now if anyone would allow it.”

It wasn’t far from the truth.  Shepard deflected.  “I still can’t keep my eyes open more than four or five hours at a stretch.  It’s this damn anti-hemorrhagic they’ve got me on.  I don’t think the navy would care for me running back to my bunk in the middle of the day.”

“Or maybe you actually need the rest.”  Tali spoke with a hint of humor, but the suggestion was mostly genuine.

Shepard rolled her eyes.  “Be well, Tali’Zorah.  I’m keeping an eye on you.”

“You too, Shepard.”  She laughed.  “You haven’t seen the last of me.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Her neurologist finished a long ramble of medical jargon, accompanied by incomprehensible gestures at the brain scans displayed on the monitor, and looked up at Shepard expectantly.

She shook her head.  “I’m sorry, what?”

The doctor who had coordinated her care since that first night aboard the _Kilimanjaro_ actually laughed, not unkindly.  Over the last month they’d grudgingly gotten used to each other.  Shepard wouldn’t call her a friend, but there was a mutual tolerance.  Now, she summed up the neurologist’s findings.  “He says you’re free to go.”

Her face lit up.

“Just because we can let you out of the hospital doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”  The doctor frowned.  “This isn’t a return to active duty.  You’re on medical leave.  Whatever you do with yourself will be low-key until you are cleared to resume your standard duties.  Understood?”

Her neurologist added, “As I’m sure you’re aware, repairing the brain is a difficult process, even with modern technology.  You’re stable, but it needs time.  A good amount of it.  You’ll need weekly check-ins for the next several months.”

“Several months?”  She glanced from one doctor to the next.  “I’m going to be stuck sitting on my hands until _October_?”

His tone was very dry.  “At the earliest.”

“Give me a fucking break.”

“I’ve forwarded your records to your ship’s medical officer, Dr. Chakwas.” Her primary doctor was deaf to her complaints.  “She can work with your superiors to find you tasks that will not put you at risk of additional harm, if you insist on working.”

Shepard grumbled darkly.  The doctor raised an eyebrow.  “And I’ll be checking in with her regularly.”

She sighed and changed tact.  “What about the anosmia?”

The neurologist shook his head.  “If your sense of smell hasn’t returned by now, the damage is likely permanent.  I wish I could be more optimistic.”

“I’d rather have honesty than optimism.”  Shepard shrugged, neither happy nor complaining.  “All things considered, I think I got off easy.”

“That is truer than you realize.”  The neurologist stood and gave her a nod.  “It was good to meet you, Commander.  I don’t know whether you’ve heard what it was like up here during the battle- a pile casualties and nothing to show for it.  If you hadn’t been on the ground, I fear it would have ended very differently.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered if Hackett hadn’t come through with the Fleet.”  Shepard never knew exactly how to respond to that sort of compliment.

“Nevertheless.  Thank you.”  He nodded again, and departed.  The doctor pursed her lips and followed.  Shepard was alone with her thoughts.

She took a long look around the room, not sorry to be leaving, but not sure where to go from here.  The _Normandy_ was still out of commission; evidently it was harder to rebuild a cutting-edge frigate than her flesh-and-blood skipper.  She’d only be underfoot if she returned to the ship.  Shepard was also certain the doctor’s idea of “low-key activities” would not include anything currently occurring anywhere on the Citadel.  Between Kaidan and Garrus, Shepard was fairly well-informed of the situation on the ground.  All the major governments of the galaxy were doing what they could as the newly-appointed Councilors got their bearings, but it took some time to mobilize their resources, and shortages of everything from medical supplies to food to places to sleep were rampant. 

Anderson had contacted her twice.  Once to verify her condition- a touching if rather short conversation- and again after she submitted her report.  Udina made time for the latter discussion between courting reporters and seizing every opportunity to play up how humanity had “saved” the Citadel.  Shepard had not forgotten how he’d manipulated her for political advantage and nearly stopped them from going to Ilos at all.  Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered.  Maybe, when Saren arrived with the geth, they’d have figured out enough to track him down and take him out.  Without Vigil’s program, they couldn’t have unlocked the relay network or opened the Citadel, and there was a chance Sovereign could have opened the Citadel relay to dark space beyond the galactic disc.  But at the very least they would have lost Vigil’s insight into the coming war.  Udina had risked everything for his own ego.

Anderson had difficulty not only believing that Saren sacrificed himself at the end, but that Sovereign hadn’t been able to intervene, if the implants were so extensive.  Shepard thought she understood.  Saren was not a noble man.  One of the reasons Sovereign’s tactics had worked so effectively was they tapped desires already within him.  Protecting the galaxy, at whatever cost, the desire to be the fulcrum in those sorts of moments- enjoying sacrifice, whether his own or others’- that was Saren.  He’d been the golden boy, in the limelight since his earliest days as a soldier, the one who always got it right.  Always finished the mission.  Small wonder he began to believe himself infallible.  And indoctrination was the most unsettling weapon Shepard had ever encountered, the extent of its influence difficult to prove.  Where Saren’s decisions ended and Sovereign’s began might never be fully delineated.   

But by taking his own life, Saren had died as himself.  Free.  Sovereign didn’t understand freedom or sacrifice.  It had not anticipated the gesture.

It was reassuring that reapers could be surprised.

Udina still didn’t believe they were real.  He scoffed while Anderson grilled her about Vigil.  The captain promised the Alliance would send a ship soon to recover what was left of the Prothean archives. 

At any rate, Anderson’s hands were full.  He didn’t have time to find make-work for an out-of-commission commander.  She wagered Hackett didn’t either.  As a spectre she had some leeway to create her own assignments, but all the ones that came to mind were likely to aggravate her injury.

She studied her hospital room with the uncomfortable realization that without a good fight on the horizon, she still didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with herself.  Part of that was the constant stress of this last mission.  She was still decompressing.  The other part was- well, she was an N7 career marine and a spectre, and waging war was what she did.  It was funny.  Eighteen months of daydreams about a nice stable life and now, with the opportunity for a few months of peace staring her In the face, all she could do was count the hours until she could go back to work.  She didn’t like it, but she apparently couldn’t escape it, either. 

But it wasn’t ever that she hated her job.  She tired of it, at times, got frustrated and impatient and daydreamed about saying to hell with it.  But if really doing that wasn’t the only way to have a full life, instead of merely a career and an empty apartment and a string of broken relationships, she’d just as soon keep it.  Food for thought.

Shepard hadn’t accumulated much in the way of personal possessions aboard the _Kilimanjaro_.  She dumped the dead tulips in the trash, the pallid yellow petals scattering on impact, and picked up her data pad.

As she was about to depart, the hatch opened.  Kaidan raised his eyebrows.  “Going somewhere?”

“You just get off a rotation?”

“Yeah.”  Command was rotating support personnel from the station to the Fleet every four days.  They didn’t want anyone to start acting like this was a long-term assignment, rather than a provisionary relief effort.  The political situation was dicey enough without the navy being accused of occupying the station.  Gratitude for the Fleet’s efforts, before and after the battle, was real, but so was the destruction of the _Destiny Ascension._ None of the station residents seemed to know quite what to do with humanity.

“They booted me out,” Shepard explained.  “Guess they need the bed.”

“Or they finally lost patience with you,” he teased, but as she failed to crack a smile, his brow furrowed.  “Something wrong?”

She wrapped her arms around her waist, pensive. 

He touched her arm.  “Only I thought you’d be celebrating when you finally got to leave.”

Shepard looked up at him.  “Have you had any leave since the battle?”  She’d lost track between his strange schedule and her medical difficulties.

He shook his head. “You know I haven’t.  Why?”

“Do you think you could get some?”

His hands slid to her hips, his tone joking.  “Well, it might be hard to convince my C.O. to sign off on the paperwork.  She’s a real hardass.”

“I want to go lie on a beach for a few days,” she said, steadily ignoring his attempts to tweak her.

“Where’s this coming from?”

“Or hide out in the mountains, or hole up in a hotel for a little while.”  She bit her lip.  “I just want to get away from here.”

He kissed her, deciding not to dig for an explanation.  “Sounds good to me.”

“I need to pick up a few things on the _Normandy_ and drop Anderson a note.”  Technically, medical leave restricted how far she could wander from her post without prior approval, but she doubted he’d contest her on this.  Anderson was a fan of Chakwas’ theory that she didn’t allow herself enough R&R.  “I’ll buy a couple of shuttle tickets at meet you down at the docks?  Forty minutes?”

“I haven’t been on vacation in ages, but I remember needing more than a ticket and a uniform.  A toothbrush, at least.”

Her hands slid across his shoulders, smoothing his shirt, despairing of the details.  “We’ll figure it out when we get there?” 

He chuckled.  “Ok.  Why not?  You find us a destination and I’ll find a place to stay.  We need that much.”

“It’s a deal.”  She kissed him again and slipped out of his embrace, heading for elevators.

Her errands didn’t take long.  She took one look around her cabin, and stuffed a few essentials in her pocket, not even bothering to pack a bag.  It seemed like too much effort when she wanted so badly to be gone- away from hospitals and ships and destruction, gain some distance to sort out her thoughts. 

The note was dashed off in thirty seconds, without waiting for Anderson to respond.  If he took exception to her leaving, he could discipline her when she got back.  Shepard signed Kaidan’s paperwork as it came through just as negligently.  Fifteen minutes later, she had scanned the afternoon departures and selected a destination, a nice balmy, beachy world.  The tickets gave them four days.  With all they’d been through since Eden Prime, a four-day break sounded like an eternity.

Then she made her way to the _Kilimanjaro’s_ shuttle bay, found a seat on a transport, and flew down to the Alliance docking station aboard the Citadel. 

She was not prepared for the sight that met her.

The dock was in pandemonium.  It seemed like every human with the ability to leave the station was attempting to do so, and none of them for a holiday.  They were trying to get back to Earth or at least human space.  Some groups looked as though they’d slept in the flimsy chairs ever since Sovereign came crashing down.  Harassed dock personnel were trying, vainly, to direct traffic and pack the ships as they arrived.  None of them were well-rested.

Shepard winced at the volume as her headache threatened a return, and hoped that their departure dock would be less crowded than this.

As she pushed her way through the throng, just another woman in uniform, hardly uncommon these days, she was surprised to hear someone shout her name over the din.  “Commander!  Commander Shepard!”

She glanced over her shoulder.  A short woman with a shiny cap of black hair skittered towards her, caught up in the long, tight skirt of her shiny dress, a style that seemed almost obligatory for women public positions aboard the Citadel.  A hovering camera trailed after her.  “Commander Shepard, Emily Wong, FCC News.  Could I have a moment?”

“You have good eyes.”  She folded her arms, annoyed at the delay, grudgingly impressed that she’d spotted her through the chaos and with her persistence.  “What do you want?”

She straightened and scraped the bangs off her face, composing herself.  “Commander, nobody’s seen you since two days before the Battle of the Citadel, when you stormed out of a Council session.”

There was a little fishing at the end of that statement.  The session where Udina screwed them all was closed- likely to the ambassador’s relief, considering how things played out.  Shepard guessed their mutiny hadn’t been made public, either.  “I was injured.  I’ve been recuperating.”

“So we were told.”

“It’s the truth.  The circumstances are none of your business.  As you can see, I’m fine now.”  The very last thing she needed was somebody questioning her mental faculties.

Wong glanced down at her datapad.  “The Alliance also confirmed that Saren Arterius is dead.  Care to comment?”

Shepard hesitated.  She felt obliged to say something, but she realized she didn’t want to vilify him.  Nor did she want to excuse what he’d done, before or after meeting Sovereign.  “He was a complicated and deeply troubled man.  As was his partnership with the… geth.”  Sometime soon, she would have to start talking about the reapers, openly and frequently, but that was a long conversation and she didn’t want to miss her shuttle.  “When a spectre declares war on one species, he’s abandoned them all.  That’s beyond my forgiveness.  But he wasn’t a coward.  He didn’t die a coward.  He remembered his duty in the end.  That’s not nothing- it’s harder than most people realize.”

“You were present at his death.”

“Yes.”

When she did not elaborate, Wong moved along, her irritation lending a touch of acid to her questions.  “There’s a great deal of confusion surrounding what happened to the _Destiny Ascension._   It appears the Fifth Fleet arrived prior to its destruction, which led to the death of the Council.  Yet, there was no attempt to save the ship.”

“I’m not going to comment on military decisions.  Particularly those made in the midst of battle.”

“There’s a rumor that you, in fact, advised Alliance Command to sacrifice the ship.”

“Again, it’s not appropriate for me to comment on Command’s decisions.  Or on rumors.”  Hackett had asked her advice.  She may have suggested the order, but he issued it.  And he’d come down on her like an asteroid strike if she so much as hinted that she was outside the command structure. 

All the same, it was her call, and it felt wrong not to own it.  Shepard took a breath.  “But if someone had asked me, I’d have told them that we had no idea what we were up against, and it wasn’t a battle we could afford to lose.  The Alliance would have lost ships defending the _Ascension_.  We had to keep the fleet intact to face Sovereign.”

“So you’re saying it was worthwhile in order to protect the human fleet, and human interests?”

“That’s not even close to what I said-“

“Speaking of human interests,” Wong interrupted smoothly, “It’s been said that the Citadel would not have made it through this crisis without the Alliance.  Humans were the only ones who saw the geth for the threat they were, who tried to combat them.  Humanity saved the Citadel and has worked tirelessly since then to provide emergency aid. Human patrols are running down the geth ships that escaped.”

“The geth were in our backyard.  It’s hard not to notice that.”  Her patience wore thin, particularly after Wong’s editorial comment.

“There’s been discussion at the highest levels of appointing a human councilor.  Ambassador Udina’s name has been mentioned.”

Somehow that bit of news escaped her notice.  Shepard’s mouth dropped open.  She was appalled.  The words flew out before she could stop them.  “Someone wants to put _Udina_ on the _Council_?”

“He is the natural choice,” Wong chided.  “You would suggest someone else?”

All she could see was Udina’s smug face when he informed her that her ship was grounded.  It wasn’t the personal slight- she’d had enough of those.  It was the way nothing, not even the death and displacement of thousands of humans, was ever worth a damn to him beyond how it could be spun towards his personal advancement. 

Shepard would be cold in the ground before she took her spectre orders from him.  She said the first name that popped into her head, going on gut instinct.  “I was given a mandate from the Council to find Saren.  Udina’s done nothing but get in the way.  When I needed help on the Citadel, I went to Captain Anderson.  He knows how to get things done.”

“David Anderson, the ambassador’s aide?” Wong was thrown by the unexpected suggestion.

“He was appointed as special counsel to the office of the ambassador during the war, as Udina has no experience in that area.  Captain Anderson is a decorated marine, the veteran of two wars, and an expert on military matters.”  Shepard was crisp and factual.  “I know many people believe the war is over, and I wish that were true.  This battle wasn’t the end.  It was the beginning.  We need a leader who understands what that means.”

Wong’s expression was hopelessly confused.  Whether at the mention of Anderson or the comments about the war, Shepard couldn’t say.  She glanced at the time.  “Excuse me, but I need to be going.”

“Of course.”  Wong nodded.  “Thank you for your input.”

Shepard returned the nod, and made her way down to her dock.

It was one of the smaller bays, and while a healthy number of people waited by the tube, it was nothing like the crowds above.  She found Alenko sitting at a vid terminal, in the middle of a call.  She draped her arms over the top of the machine.

He glanced up mid-sentence.  “Because that’s not distracting.”

Though she was standing politely out-of-frame, she was scarcely easy to ignore.  He shooed her with a gesture.  She held up her hands, with a look of exasperation, and stalked off several paces while he finished.  A few minutes later, he thanked whoever was on the other end, terminated the call, and walked over to her.  “We’ve got hotel reservations.”

“Good.”  Shepard could have lived with sleeping on the beach if it came to that, but supposed this would be easier.  “I’ve got our boarding passes.”

She swiped her omni-tool, transferring the digital ticket over to him.  “Security looks a bit lax.”

He shrugged.  “I don’t think they care who leaves.  Every passenger who departs is one less person to look after, right now.  We’ll face more trouble when we get back.”

They had a half hour to kill.  Few Alliance were present on this deck; their uniforms drew a number of curious stares from the other travelers.  Once they saw her hair, they looked a little harder.  Shepard noticed them whispering together and slumped in her seat.  “First thing when we land, I’m buying a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.”

“A month of total seclusion and you’re already griping about the publicity.”  Kaidan leaned back and crossed his legs.  “Sooner or later, you will have to resign yourself to the fact that you’re famous.”

She snorted.  “Infamous might be a better word.”

“Commander Shepard, Slayer of Spectres, Reaver of Reapers, Chocolate Marauder and all-around Pantry Thief-“

“Where is your sense of gravity when I could really use it?”

“Alright, alright.”  He looked at her sidelong.  “You don’t really care what these people think.”

“I don’t like being a spectacle.”  She sighed.  “I got stopped by a reporter on the way here.  Udina’s going to be a Councilor.  I tried to throw a wrench in it, but it’ll never stick.  He’s too oily.”

“Councilor Donnel Udina,” Alenko said flatly.  “That’s a great way to start a new chapter in human history.”

“I hate that I hate the fact that he’s going to hold it over me every waking moment more than the mess he’s going to make for the people of the galaxy.”

Alenko took her hand.  “Nothing’s ever perfect.  But Sovereign’s gone, the reapers are going to have to find a new route out of dark space, and you’ve outwitted Udina more than once.  I doubt he’s going to get any smarter.”

She leaned into him, not caring who saw, and folded her legs up on the seat.  “So.  You ever heard of this place?”

“Abael?”  He shrugged.  “Heard of it.  Never been there.  You?”

She shook her head and rested her head on his shoulder.  “Any recommendations for what to do when we arrive?”

He likewise leaned against her, curling their hands together in his lap.  “Absolutely nothing we don’t feel like doing up until the moment we have to leave.”


	56. The Coffee Date, Part 2

The tiny Abael Spaceport disgorged them onto a dirty, steaming street crowded with hopeful salesmen and brimming kiosks.  It was summer back in UNAS on Earth, but galactically, this was the off season.  There weren’t many visitors to view their wares. 

The colony was an up-and-coming tourist trap in the middle of nowhere, proud of its one daily run to the Citadel, and trying desperately to capture that part of the market that was sick of the crowded shores of more popular destinations.  Humans were still so new that their beaches were widely considered an exotic and dangerous choice.  Investment the last few years had rapidly accelerated development in Alliance space on places like Abael in an attempt to make them more palatable. 

Shepard chose it purely because the shuttle departure matched up with her schedule.  But they wouldn’t have gone into space if they didn’t have some sense of adventure- and so they descended on the sprawling seaside town with an air of open curiosity.

Their flight took six hours.  It was early evening by their internal clock, but morning on Abael, the sun rising over the ocean at the end of the street.  She could smell the salt on the air. 

The spaceport was in the older part of town, away from the new money and the shiny buildings it raised.  The pair of them stuck out in their service uniforms and chalky space-borne complexions.  Shepard was anything but pale, but there was a difference in skin soaked in sunshine and skin that hadn’t seen more than starlight and the inside of a hardsuit in ages.  Alenko, who was fair, seemed already well on his way to frying.  His arm was hot where she linked hers through.

It was a nice day, already golden and warm.  They decided to walk to their hotel at the other end of town.  True to her declaration of traveling light, Shepard made a beeline for a roadside clothing wagon in order to have something to wear.  There were no jeans, but a handful of tank tops and a long, billowing skirt would suffice for a few days.  Kaidan found a few pairs of shorts.  Unlike Shepard, he had taken a moment to pack, and had a small bag of necessities already.  As they approached the clerk, a yellow bikini caught her eye and she added it to her modest pile.

Alenko saw, and raised an eyebrow.  “You know, it occurs to me…”

“What?” she asked, pulling up her omni-tool to pay the transaction.

“You didn’t pack _anything_.”  There was a subtle emphasis.  “Nothing but what you’re wearing.  Which you can’t wear for very long.”

“I guess I’ll have to figure out some other solution,” she said carelessly, as the storekeeper bagged their purchases.

He took her hand as she looped the bag around her wrist.  “Some other solution, huh.”

“Some clothing items are more traditional than necessary.”  She glanced at him, her mouth quirking.  “Besides, I’m not planning to spend enough time in them for anything to get dirty.  Are you?”

He dropped her hand to slip his arm around her waist and pull her into his side.  “I suppose that’s up to you.”

“Entirely?”

He laughed.  “As if you’ve ever entered a situation and didn’t immediately place yourself in charge.”

That seemed almost uncomfortably true, so Shepard switched the subject.  “Where are we staying?”

They had passed a number of smaller hotels, not more than a dozen rooms apiece, of varying age and quality.  She was curious about the sort of place he would pick. 

Alenko shrugged and looked up at the sky, deflecting.  “Just a little place I found.”

They turned the corner and he steered her under an awning and towards a pair of tall wooden doors, polished and paneled.  She stole a glance upward and counted at least six stories- larger than the others she’d seen, each window reflecting the street.  The soft rush of the ocean was audible, though of the water itself, she could see nothing from here.  A doorman held it open as they passed through.

Inside, airy wooden arches stretched two stories or more overhead, connected by a frothy bird’s nest of ironwork.  Sunlight streamed down from clerestory windows of colored glass and threw playful blocks of sunshine down upon a floor of mixed wood and pale stone.  It was avant-garde, and yet at the same time retained something fundamentally classical, enough to make it both easy and interesting on the eyes.  Shepard had never seen anything quite like it- except possibly in her sessions with Liara, as odd as that made her feel.  It was an aesthetic she never really realized fit her this well.

She caught Kaidan’s expression, pleased and amused, and realized she was gaping.  She closed her mouth.  “A little place you found.”

“You seemed to like the fancy hotel on Noveria.” 

Her eyes swept the room again, still amazed, and turned back to him.  “You can’t afford this.”

It came out blunter than she meant.  Shepard hadn’t intended her spur of the moment holiday to land either of them in debt.  However, her frankness failed to perturb him.

“I incurred a favor,” he admitted, tucking his hands into his pockets.  “I told you once I had friends who live on the Presidium.”

“Please tell me you didn’t ask them for money.”

His expression was mollifying, a request to wait.  “You met one of them, Mat.”

“Kaidan-“

“Do you like the architecture?” he interrupted.

“It’s beautiful, but-“

“His husband was the architect.  Alex Lidstrom.”  A smirk tugged at his mouth.  “He’ll be glad to know you approve.  He has a bit of an ego about his work.”

“Your old college friend-slash-ex is married to Aleksander Lidstrom,” she said flatly.  Architecture might be an obscure art, but his was a household name in the human parts of the galaxy.

“It’s a privately owned hotel.  He has a good relationship with the owners and got us a special rate.”  Kaidan cleared his throat.  “You know, it’s a funny story how they met-“

“Shut up,” she said, and kissed him. 

Shepards didn’t stay in nice hotels.  Her childhood didn’t feature an extensive history of family vacations, but when they occurred, they always stayed somewhere clean and practical.  They ate reasonably priced meals at mediocre restaurants, packed their own snacks and lunches, and bought basic tickets for the various attractions.  It wasn’t only about financial pragmatism.  Frugality was a moral obligation, and luxury a failing. 

As an adult, Shepard was aware not all of life need be pared down to the bone, but the guilt lingered.  Even if they’d been her connections she’d never have thought to stay here.  It would have been a passing idea, a brief stir of excitement, reluctantly laid aside in favor of less fanciful plans.  Have fun, but not too much fun.  Never forget that rainy days always come around.

“You,” she said, her hands tugging on the collar of his shirt, “Are altogether too nice and one day it’s really going to bite you in the ass.”

“Maybe it’s not niceness.  Maybe I get some kind of sadistic kick out of seeing you totally undone whenever someone does anything the least bit nice for you.”

“You don’t have the stomach for sadistic.”

He leaned closer, whispering into her ear.  “Maybe you’re teaching me.”

Her nose nuzzled his cheek.  “Are we going to check in or should I strip you down on the desk?”

“Right.”  He turned towards registration.  The woman on duty was staring at them askance.  Kaidan stepped forward and gave her their information.

Ten minutes later, they stepped into their room, six floors up.  Shepard’s original estimate was incorrect; the hotel boasted eight stories, and the rear faced the water.  Kaidan had spent the shuttle flight reading a travel guide, and all the way up, he rambled on about various bits of trivia he’d picked up about the town and the things they might like to do while they were there, from its discovery ten years ago by an expedition of salarian botanists to a rather excellent coral aquarium.

Shepard bore his enthusiasm with good grace, but she had other things on her mind.  Before the door even shut, she dropped the bag of clothing, pulled him into her, and buried his mouth against hers. 

“They’ve got twenty-two different species of rays-“ he mumbled, fumbling to close it as she tugged him further into the room.

“You really-“ Shepard kissed him once, and tilted her head the other way.  “Really-“ She kissed him again.  “Really don’t know when to be quiet.”

Kaidan stopped talking and tightened himself around her.

The entire back wall of the room was a solid plate of glass overlooking the ocean.  The fell into the bed beside it with abandon and proceeded to ignore the upscale accommodations and spectacular view alike in favor of each other.

The sun had climbed on towards local noon.  They had slept a few hours, adjusting to the time change, and now lay together, comfortable and careless, his head on her shoulder as they idly watched the beach below.  Tourists and locals alike were retreating from the growing heat, heading into houses and cafes, occupying any bit of spare shade.   

Her arm circled him, her fingers brushing his skin vacantly in time with the waves.  He traced patterns on the smooth plane of her stomach. 

“Thank you,” she said.

He was moving the tip of his finger from freckle to freckle, as though inventing a puzzle.  There were fewer on her middle than elsewhere, but no part of her was completely barren of them.  “For what?”

“Putting some thought into my thoughtless plan.”  A smile tugged at her mouth. 

“The ship repairs are almost done.  We’re going to be thrown back into it soon.  It seemed right to take the opportunity to spoil ourselves while we could.”  He propped himself up on his elbow and leaned over her, reaching for the holographic console imbedded in the window.  “Which reminds me.”

She shuffled out of the way, bemused.  “Reminds you of what?”

He punched the button for room service.  “I believe I promised you coffee.”

Her laughter shook the room.

/\/\/\/\/\

That evening they finally made their way down to the beach, decked out in their newly acquired civilian garb.  Nobody paid them any mind as they walked along the shore hand-in-hand.  Shepard felt so light and simple it gave the last several months a dreamlike quality, as if all the stress and horror belonged to someone else.  This peace wouldn’t last, she knew, but the respite was desperately needed. 

The salt air dried her out and went to her head, causing it to ache a bit.  It had off and on since being released from the hospital.  If it hadn’t worried her doctor, she wouldn’t allow it to worry her, and she tried to put it out of her mind.

“You’d think we would have found a restaurant by now,” Kaidan said.

“Sometimes I’d swear your brain lives in your stomach.”

“An ice cream truck, or a hot dog stand, or something.”

“We could head back into town,” she offered.

“It’s kind of stuffy.  The beach is better.”

“Unless you want to eat sand-“ She paused, and squinted.  “Though that might be something, up ahead.”

It was a ramshackle building of weathered wood.  People spilled out over its generous deck, and as they got closer, they could hear music mixed with shouts and laughter.  Kaidan sniffed the air.  “Something’s grilling.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”  Shepard still couldn’t smell a blessed thing.

They had to climb up to the restaurant proper, threading through the other patrons.  Sand stuck to her bare feet and scraped between her skin and the wood, falling off in clumps and showers, as she held her skirt clear of the steps.  The deck thumped with the music and rhythm of feet.  Several people were dancing off to one side, drinks in hand, calling out to one another raucously.  They ducked inside.

A handful of menus scattered the worn wooden plank that served as bar and service counter both.  Two asari worked feverishly, one pouring drinks and the other at the kitchen in plain sight of the customers.  They placed their order and waited.  A casual glance around told Shepard that while the bar might be supported by the tourist industry, it wasn’t the sort of place that cared to advertise.  It preferred to be found out. 

An almost forgotten vid terminal stood in a corner.  It was impossible to hear any of the broadcast, but even a month later, the aftermath at the Citadel remained prominent in the news.  Councilor Quentius, who had replaced Sparatus as the turian representative, gave a lengthy speech.  From the way ANN was cutting it with pictures of the fleet and Udina, Shepard hazarded it had something to do with adding humans to the Council.  She’d read a dossier on Quentius shortly after his appointment, passed to her from Hackett’s office; he seemed more diplomatically inclined than his predecessor.  Admittedly, that was a low bar to pass.

Then the segment cut to a vid of Shepard herself, in the spaceport earlier.  Her face heated.  She looked thin and frazzled- gifts courtesy of her month-long hospital stay.  Compared to Wong’s pointed questioning, Shepard’s responses seem disorganized, rambling.  Evidently the segment host was unimpressed.  He laughed with Wong in follow-up.

Alenko noticed her attention, and raised his eyebrows.  “What exactly did you tell them, when you got asked about Udina?”

The asari set down a pair of beers in front of them.  Shepard took a long pull.  “I told her they should be looking at Anderson.”

He blinked.  “Has anyone outside the Alliance even heard of Anderson?”

“Well, he was a spectre candidate, and it’s not as though any human gets a lot of galactic traffic.”  She sighed.  “She ambushed me.  I wasn’t expecting the question and I gave her the first name that came to mind.”

“It’s not like he’s a bad choice.  He gets things done, and he’s got a stomach for the politics.”

“That was my reasoning, after-the-fact.”  Her instinct had chosen the name.  Maybe it wasn’t wrong. 

“Councilor Anderson,” Alenko said, trying it out.  “That would be a sight to see.”

“Nothing will come of it.  You saw their reactions.”  She gestured towards the terminal.

He sipped at his own beer, and changed the subject.  “It’s pretty crowded in here.  Pretty isolated out on the beach like this, too.  Wonder if it’s ever caused them problems.”

Boozy tourists on the fringes of Council space weren’t known for their good manners.  Shepard shrugged.  “I don’t think they’re too worried.  I saw they have a Saturday night special under the bar when she got our glasses.”

He tilted his head to get a look.  “So they do.  Where’s yours, by the way?  It was gone when I got out of the bathroom before we left, but I didn’t see you put it on.”

“Strapped to my thigh.”  She took another sip.  “I cut a slit in the skirt so I can get to it quickly.”

“We were going out for dinner on vacation.”  He didn’t seem to know whether he was amused or chagrined.

“I always take it with me.  Not having it when you really need it is an experience you remember a long time.”  She paused, and added a conciliation.  “I removed the explosive mod.”

Alenko shook his head, and lifted his glass as the asari returned again with their food.  Shepard snagged a french fry off her plate.  “You’ve never gotten caught without your gun?”

He leaned back and reached for a bottle of hot sauce.  “I have found myself in an odd predicament a time or two.”

She picked up a zucchini pinwheel, or at least something that looked like zucchini.  “What was the oddest?”

Alenko thought about it a moment as he applied the condiment to his food.  The house seemed to deal only in fried or grilled fare, fish and vegetables, and they’d ordered a mix of both.  “Back when I was posted to the _Jakarta_ , guarding the Terminus border, I wound up with some shore leave on this tiny rock called Naraka.”

“I know Naraka.  I’ve been in bars full of Terminus mercs where I had less cause to watch my back than that place.”

“That sums it up.”  Alenko sat back, philosophically.  “It’s not all that bad, if you have credits.  They have a decent casino and I hadn’t been off a ship in six months.  The few fights we got into that tour were all hostile boardings, pirates, smugglers, and the like.  So when we set down to refuel and the skipper offered up a few shore passes, I jumped at the chance.”

“And a lot of casinos in the Terminus know better than to allow weapons where so much money is openly changing hands.”  Shepard raised an eyebrow.  “Isn’t the gambling industry in that system run exclusively by vorcha?”

“I learned this later.  Would have helped to know it up front.”  He paused briefly to eat a fried clam.  “Even in Citadel space, every place posts big signs up front explaining that any use of biotics will get you banned from the premises.  Naraka is somewhat less delicate with their consequences.  Not that I’d ever cheat.  But I still need to be on my guard not to do anything that would raise suspicion.”

“What, not ever?”

“If I did, I’d win every time,” he said seriously.  “That’s hardly fun, or fair.”

Shepard remembered his skill at poker, and realized the question had been slightly insulting.  “So you weren’t cheating.  What happened?”

“A buddy of mine had a fifth at the table.  We were both taking hits from it between rounds.  It was crowded, everyone jostling each other, a lot of people pretty drunk.  Somebody bumped the bottle.  I spent almost two years getting the tar kicked out of me at school whenever we’d spill or drop anything.  Our turian instructors demanded perfection.”

“Yeah, I gathered as much.”  _Bastards_ , she added to herself, instinctively protective, but she didn’t want to get into it again.  Her platter of fried vegetables was expertly cooked, but somewhat under-seasoned for her tastes.  She snagged the hot sauce and shook it over her food.  “What happened next?”

Alenko took another swallow of beer and wiped his mouth.  “I’ve never been great with fine control when it comes to biotics.  On a good day I’m lucky to roll a pencil without breaking it in half.  But I got drilled on it as a kid, over and over, and some things just became second nature.  So when that bottle started to tip, I yanked it upright automatically, without any conscious thought.”

“And let off a blue flash for the whole table to see.”  Shepard shook her head, willing herself not to laugh.  “All hell broke loose?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”  He shook his head, but couldn’t help chuckling a bit himself, at the sheer absurdity.  “Next thing I know, I’m in a back room, staring down two vorcha enforcers screeching at me in some language my translator could barely cope with, and on top of that I was pretty, um…”

“Sloshed?” she suggested brightly.

“Yeah…”  He was faintly embarrassed.  “Eventually, it became clear the house had been losing on that dice table all evening, and they blamed me.  They were threatening a hit from the vorcha mafia if I didn’t pay them back and it wasn’t like I had that kind of money.”

Shepard poked around her plate in search of more zucchini.  “Oddly enough, I had a similar experience.  A batarian patron accused me of cheating at cards and summoned his friends to back him up.  I nailed his cards to the table with my knife.  He knew when to back off.”

“You do have a hell of a glare,” Alenko reflected.  He gave her a candid look.  “You kind of get off on that.”

“On what?”

“Intimidating people.”  He sat back and sipped at his drink, a grin tugging at his mouth.  “Swiftly correcting anyone under the mistaken impression that they might be the biggest gun in the room.”

“Only those who’ve earned it.”  But she couldn’t help enjoying it.  “I ran into my old drill sergeant a few years back.  A couple of beers in, I asked him he thought I’d make a good D.I.”

“And?”

“He said no, because the goal was to make the recruits shit their pants metaphorically, not actually.”                                                                                                                                                               

“He thought you were a little overtuned for the job?” he inquired dryly, remembering her short temper and intolerance for error during the training exercises with the enlisted marines, back on Mars.

“So I gathered.”  Shepard had never seen it as a fault.  She was unsuited for handling recruits, but that same lack of TLC got serious results in the big leagues.  “So what happened with your vorcha?”

“My buddy ran back to the ship to get help.  But it took some time.  When the vorcha started to talk about moving me somewhere else because I couldn’t produce their credits, I decided I couldn’t wait for official channels.”

“You broke out?”

“They handcuffed me, because the first thing you always want to do with a biotic is restrict hand movements.  We use physical mnemonics associated with particular effects.  It’s very hard to produce anything big with just your imagination to help.”

A piece fell into place on a puzzle that had been niggling at her.  “That’s why very few biotics have the exact same capabilities.  You don’t cook it up on the spot.  You train and hone specific skills until they’re reliable.”

“Mostly, yeah.”  He reached over and took one of her eggplant.  She offered no protest; they weren’t to her liking.  “I kicked over the table to distract them and threw myself to the ground.  Dislocated my shoulder getting my hands in front of me, but it allowed enough movement to blow the door open, and put up a barrier for the couple of shots they got off before I was around the corner.”

Shepard spotted the obvious flaw.  “You left two armed interrogators behind you.  If you had enough force at your disposal to blow a hatch, you could’ve dealt with them easily.”

He looked down into his beer.  “It may have been a tactical error.  Things got kind of hairy when they chased me onto the casino floor.  But they were just doing their job.  I don’t know.  It didn’t cross my mind to kill them.”

She shook her head.  “That’s going to get you killed some day.” 

The statement lacked force of conviction, because that trait was also something she really liked about him- the tendency towards mercy and optimism that was damned rare to see in a career marine.  Given the option, he’d always not shoot, though he was wise enough to know that wasn’t always an option.  Shepard, given the option, usually would shoot, if only because it was safer.

Kaidan shrugged.  “Maybe.  You’re right too, though.  Sometimes you have to make the hard call.  I’m glad that person isn’t often me.”

She set down her latest bite of food.  “You sometimes go out of your way to avoid responsibility.”

That earned her an eye roll.  “Segueing into a performance review?”

“No.”  She persisted all the same.  “I know you want to be seen as more than a biotic, and I know you want to fit in.” 

He expelled a sigh and picked up his beer.  “For god’s sake, Nathaly.”

“Ten years in the soup, and you’re the navy’s most overqualified staff lieutenant with a history of white bread postings and keeping your head down.”  She shook her head.  “And there’s not a thing wrong with that, except I think you want more, because that’s what I saw on the _Normandy_.  What the hell is stopping you?”

He started to make a sarcastic reply, but took a look at her face, which displayed nothing but sincerity, and sighed again.  “I won’t lie.  I’ve enjoyed the challenges of serving on this ship.  It’s nice to… stretch myself.  But I don’t like being on display.  I don’t know how you stand it.  One biotic does something public, all biotics get judged for it.  I’m just me.  I don’t want to be that standard.”

“You don’t have to like it.  I don’t.  It’s just the price you pay.”

“For what, though?”

“For doing something worthy of display.”  Shepard folded her arms on the counter.  “You gotta admit, though…”

He humored her, good-naturedly, though clearly tiring of the topic.  “What do I need to admit?”

Shepard ticked them off on her fingers.  “You’re intimately familiar with the problems biotics face, because you’ve been there from the start.  You have legitimate grievances and the ability to speak to them without losing your head.  You’re an upstanding citizen, and a decorated officer of the Systems Alliance Navy.”  She paused.  “I’m just saying.  If there’s got to be a standard, if you ever changed your mind… you could do one hell of a fine job.”

He shook his head and laughed.  “I like my life how it is, thanks.  I don’t need politics mucking it up.”

“Suit yourself.”  She drained the last of her beer and rapped the glass on the bar.  “I didn’t set out to delve into work crap anyway.”

/\/\/\/\/\

The following morning, Shepard and Alenko took a late breakfast at the hotel restaurant- a bit less earthy and more generic than the bar the night before, but the food was flawless.  They’d lingered, drinking and talking and attempting to dance, until last call.  Shepard had felt a bit anxious, crawling into bed with him to sleep afterwards, but she was too drunk and tired for her dreams to disturb her.  It was hard to deny it was nice, waking up together.  She wouldn’t mind doing more of that.

She was struck again by just how easy this was.  Being with him was as natural as being by herself.  Even when they bickered, it was never acrimonious, never nasty- and they rarely did.  She didn’t feel like she was walking through a minefield with only her ragged wits to guide her. 

At this hour, between meals, they had the restaurant almost entirely to themselves.  Their sole company was an aging turian seated at the bar and already halfway gone.  Every time he spoke, or rather yelled- for the waiter, for his next drink, for the whole woken world- it was a jarring disruption of their lazy brunch. 

They sat across the room eating fruit-laden waffles- decadent fair compared to shipboard rations- and drinking their tea, and tried to ignore it.  At the fifth interruption, Shepard lost the last of her patience.  She pushed back from the table and got to her feet.

Alenko glanced up at her.  “It’s not worth losing your head over a crazy old drunk.”

“Lose my head?” She flashed him the kind of smile associated with sharks and wolves.  “We’re just going to have a little chat about decorum.”

He groaned and levered himself out of his chair as she crossed the room.  Her irritated, deliberate gait was somewhat spoiled by the flip-flops on her feet.  “Excuse me.”

The turian looked up.  Shepard suddenly placed him.  “You’re General Oraka.”

The last and only time she’d seen the man was at lunch with Anderson, when she got stopped by Nassana Dantius.  On that occasion, he’d also kept close to the bar, drunk past politeness, abusing the staff and troubling the diners.  Now, he squinted at her through a gin haze.  He seemed remarkably cogent given the extent of his inebriation.  An experienced drunk.  “And you’re that human spectre.  The one who killed Arterius.”

“Nathaly Shepard,” she clarified.

“No rank?” he asked, edged with cynicism, as he reached for his glass.

“I’m on vacation.”

“Then perhaps you should return to it.”  Oraka tipped his head back and took a long swallow.

“I’d love to.”  She folded her arms.  “It’s rather difficult when a tipsy fool won’t stop yelling at anyone in range.”

Alenko caught up to her.  “Let’s just go.  We were almost done anyway.”

Oraka looked him up and down, barked a laugh, and tossed back a third of his drink.  “A diplomat.  Too diplomatic for the likes of you.  Enjoy it while you can.”

Shepard was disgusted.  “What the hell is your problem?”

“Love never lasts,” he went on, as though she hadn’t spoken.  “You pour out your heart and soul to someone, and as soon as you turn around, she stabs you in the back.”

She and Kaidan exchanged a glance.  He said, “I don’t think he’s talking about us.”

“Yes, enjoy yourselves,” he continued bitterly.  “I’ve known love.  Late in life, later than most, but love all the same.  She spurned me.  Me!  Septimus Oraka, general of the turian fleet!”

Shepard and Alenko watched in awkward silence as he drained his glass.  “I could’ve given her everything.  I’ve seen a lot in my days…”  He stared down at the table.  “There’s only one woman in this damn galaxy who helps me forget it.”

“What’s her name?” Alenko asked.  Shepard elbowed him.  He threw her a helpless look.

“Sha’ira.”  Oraka drew out each syllable as though savoring a fine wine. 

Alenko blinked.  “The Consort?”

Shepard eyed him.  “You know this woman?”

“She’s, uh… something else.  Well known aboard the Citadel.  I had to confine Private Fredericks to the ship whenever we docked because he almost started a brawl, bragging about her affections.”  He coughed.  “It didn’t seem the kind of thing I needed to bother you with.  From what I gather, she’s a three-way cross between a therapist, a Matriarch, and a prostitute.”

“Uh-huh.”  Shepard turned back to Oraka.  “You’re telling me that a turian general has been wasting his sunset years being soppy in bars over an asari call girl?”

“You don’t understand.”  Oraka was gloomy.  “All I wanted was to retire, and be with her.”

Shepard was unsympathetic.  “Maybe you should learn to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

He rapped the glass on the bar with growing impatience.  “I’m finished.  She’s ruined me.”

“Oh, pull yourself together.”  She leaned against the bar, propped up on her elbows.  “Have some dignity.  For your office, if nothing else.  What the hell would your soldiers think to see you now?”

For the first time, Oraka was caught off-guard, and even seemed a bit embarrassed.  But he shook his head and growled.  “My soldiers can kiss my leathery backside.”

“And this is how you spend your retirement?  Holing up in foreign bars?  That’s your legacy?” 

He stared at nothing for a long moment.  “You’re right.  I don’t… I couldn’t face them.  I can’t face her.  I… I’ve said some things.  About Sha’ira.  I was angry.  I don’t think she would forgive me.”

Alenko leaned on the bar.  “You’re better than this.  Own it and fix it.”

Shepard pointed at him.  “You screwed up.  I don’t care.  Never let an enemy see your weakness.  You know that.”

“Enemies?”  Oraka blinked, surprised.  “The one place I ever felt at peace was with her.”

Shepard glanced at Kaidan.  She licked her lips and tried a softer approach.  “I doubt you ever won a war by behaving like a spurned schoolboy.”

“You think it’s that easy?  Just straighten up and… act like a general?”  Sheepishness warred with skepticism.

“I don’t think it can hurt,” Alenko said.

“Maybe you’re right.  Sha’ira is worth the effort.”  He swirled the ice in the glass.  “I’ll go to her.  After I’ve had a cold shower, or two.”

Alenko opened his omni-tool.  “There’s a shuttle leaving first thing tomorrow morning.”

Oraka straightened and turned towards them.  His tone became businesslike, as if eager to make up for his earlier lamentations.  “I’m surprised to see you here, Commander.  Word has it that the Alliance Is preoccupied ingratiating itself with the Citadel.  I would have thought they’d want their poster girl on hand.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”

“I see.”  He gave her a very shrewd look for someone so drunk.  “Your Captain Anderson will never beat out the human ambassador for Councilor, you know.  He’s too obscure.  And he lacks that ruthless quality that keeps you alive in Citadel politics.”

Shepard hadn’t been invested much in anything other than eliminating Udina from the role, but his casual dismissal of a man she admired above all other people abruptly solidified her determination.  She folded her arms.  “We’ll see.”

Oraka laughed and turned back to the bar, cuing up his own omni-tool to pay the tab.  Alenko tugged her arm.  “You ready to go?”

She gave the turian general a final cross glare, and allowed Kaidan to lead her out of the restaurant.

They headed back to the room to change, and then down to the beach where hopefully cooler breezes would lead to cooled tempers.   Shepard and Alenko weren’t the only ones flocking to the water.  While Abael wasn’t popular enough to be crowded, there was a host of people setting up beach chairs and wading into the waves.

Shepard lay back on one of the towels they’d borrowed from the hotel.  She’d worn better fitting swimsuits in her life, but it did the job.  Kaidan had decided one of the cheap pairs of shorts would work just as well as swim trunks. 

She closed her eyes against the sun.  The heat felt wonderful.  “So Private Fredericks was seeing hookers on the Citadel?”

“It’s legal in Council space,” he pointed out.  He seemed less acclimated to the tropical climate- sweltering rather than enjoying it.  He sat facing into the sea breeze.  “But, no.  After I dragged him out, he admitted he’d only gotten on the waiting list for her… clinic.  All talk and no game.”

“You seem to know quite a lot about this subject,” she said, archly, clearly teasing, because the only idea more ludicrous than Kaidan paying a prostitute was the idea that he could talk about even the hypothetical without sputtering.

Indeed, his ears went red and his expression became scandalized.  “Umm… not that much.”

Shepard snickered.  His blush deepened.  “I prefer to believe the people I’m with are there because they like me, thanks.”

“Very romantic.”

Alenko raised his eyebrows.  “Why?  Have you…?”

She folded her hands under her head and wriggled into a more comfortable position.  “It’s not always free, but I’ve never exchanged money if that’s what you’re asking.”

“And I think that’s about as much as I want to know.”  He shook his head, bemused. 

She popped open one eye, and smirked.  “I guess I’m more flexible than you.”

He lay down on one elbow, looking her over.  “I don’t know about that.”

“Please.  You don’t even know how to turn a cartwheel.”

“That’s balance, not flexibility.”

Shepard likewise sat up on her elbow and faced him.  “You know, I just remembered.”

“No.”  He groaned.

“I promised to teach you the next time we were planetside.”

“That ship sailed a few planets back.”

“Come on.”  She grinned.  “It’ll be fun.”

He allowed her to pull him to his feet, protests written in every motion, right down to the set of his shoulders.  “This really isn’t necessary-“

His resistance went ignored.  Shepard wiggled her bare feet in the sand, turning her left foot perpendicular to her right.  “Go ahead and point one foot the direction you’re tumbling.”

With much scoffing, he lined up next to her and did as she asked.  “What now?”

“As you start to turn over, your hand is going to hit the ground first, followed by your other hand, followed by your trailing foot.”  She nodded ahead.  “Figure out where your hand is going to land.  It’ll help with the disorientation.”

“I’ve been trained to fire guns in zero gee and you’re worried I’ll be disoriented by a little flip?”

“Smartass.  Shove off with your foot and-“  Shepard tumbled end over end, her long body held straight in the air, a perfect cartwheel without an ounce of hesitation.  “-let your momentum carry you through.”

She spun neatly in place, and gestured.  “Give it a try.”

He leveled his gaze at her for a long moment- and then set his feet parallel to each other and launched off his heels.  A familiar buzzing filled her head.  He somersaulted in the air with only the briefest flash of blue light.

Shepard blinked.  He grinned.  “I only told you that I couldn’t _cartwheel_.”

Her mouth snapped shut.  She wanted to be annoyed, but was instead struggling not to laugh.  “That’s cheating.  You said you never cheat.”

“So is it cheating when you use your height to hide your favorite snacks on the top shelves in the mess?” But he winced, faintly, rubbing his head.  “I haven’t tried that one since I was kid.”

Her brow wrinkled with concern.  “I hope I didn’t drive you into a headache.”

“Nah.  Just a twinge.”  He smiled, easing her mind.  “I’m going to cool off.  Want to come?”

“I’m not tired of the sun yet.”  She sat back down on the towel and stretched out. 

Alenko looked down at her, dubious.  “So all weather is bad, except hot and humid?”

“Sounds about right.”  She smiled into the sky.

He shook his head again, bent down and kissed her nose- surprising her- and walked down towards the water.

Shepard allowed herself a few more lazy minutes of soaking up sunshine, before the conversation at breakfast and earlier at the spaceport began to compete for her attention.  She didn’t want Udina to be Councilor, and put on the spot, she named Anderson.  Why?

The captain was her mentor ever since her N1 days.  Her mother’s friend, yes, but her friend too, maybe even more than Hannah’s the last few years.  He never got her out of trouble she’d legitimately earned.  But he’d talk to her about it afterwards, and more than once his perspective had kept her from making it worse.  He was a kind of anchor in a rather stormy life.  That could’ve been the origin of her instinctual reply- that same stern guidance, leavened by understanding, could be the makings of a good Councilor as much as an outstanding officer and mentor.

Shepard feared nothing on the battlefield, but her stomach roiled as she imagined his reaction when he discovered she put his name in the middle of this without even a courtesy discussion first.

Well, they were both in it now.  Udina couldn’t be allowed to win. Shepard didn’t have to ask to know Anderson would agree with that much. 

She rolled over onto her stomach and activated her omni-tool, cuing up her contacts at Noveria Development Corporation.

By the time Kaidan returned from his swim, his skin sticky with salt and the water having accomplished very little to mitigate his nascent sunburn, Shepard had written formal emails to NDC, ExoGeni, Terra Nova’s representatives in parliament as well as the engineering company who had completed the work on X57, and several navy officials with whom Shepard had a good working relationship.  She also dropped Nassana Dantius a note that bordered on but did not quite cross over into blackmail, requesting her support within the asari diplomatic corp. 

Kaidan walked up just as she was finishing a letter to Shiala.  It was a long shot that she would be willing to meddle in Citadel politics, but as a trusted member of Benezia’s inner circle, her contacts had to be extraordinary.  It was worth ten minutes to compose the request.

“Busy?” he asked, plopping down beside her. 

“Mmm.”  She frowned at the holographic display.  “Trying to drum up support for Anderson.”

“Job never ends, does it?”

She looked up at him then, chagrined.  He was watching her, leaning back on his palms with an expression that was mostly affectionate but partly exasperated.  Shepard bit her lip.  “I’m sorry.  It can wait-“

“It probably can’t, not if you’re serious about defeating Udina.”  He leaned down and kissed her hair.  “When you choose to care about something, you care about it all the way.  I like that about you too much to complain.”

She pulled him back for a real kiss, long enough to attract some attention from their neighboring beach-goers.  Over Kaidan’s shoulder, a woman shook her head disapprovingly from her umbrella.  Shepard couldn’t have cared less.  “I’m just about tapped out as far as favors go, anyway.”

His finger traced her forehead and trailed down her jaw, only half his attention on the conversation.  “So why Anderson?  Really.”

“You don’t think he’s a good choice?”

“I think he’s a good man and a fine leader who doesn’t have much experience in this arena.”

She paused before she answered, because it was a reasonable question, one she ought to have an answer to before any of her contacts sent replies.  “Not on this scale.  He got an R&D project through the navy’s byzantine development process and Council appropriations alike, and got it off the drawing board.  A frigate full of unproven tech, not just a few safe modifications.  That project just won a war.  That requires more than a trivial grasp of politics.”

“Well, I’d say we won the war, but having the _Normandy_ sure helped.”

“Details.”  She shook her head, unsatisfied with her own response.  “I wasn’t lying when I told that journalist, Wong, that we need a military leader.  I know that’s not the Council’s primary role, but when the next war hits, it’s going to touch every living species.  The Council’s going to play a role.”

“Then we better make sure we get the right person in the office.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “Got some ideas?”

His grin was small and private, lined with hints of mischief.  “Maybe a few.”

/\/\/\/\/\

It was the smell that woke him, acrid and obnoxious in his nose.

Alenko sat up.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and spot the haze of gray smoke across the room, climbing upwards and pooling along the hand-hewn ceiling beams.  Nathaly was a shrouded figure within the cloud, perched on an end table with her feet pressed against the glass for balance, staring down into the black waves far below.

A chilly draft as the AC unit underwent some minor adjustment led him to realize that hardly any of the sheets still lay over him.  A glance down at her side of the bed showed them bunched in knots and tangles, faintly damp to the touch with her cold sweat.

He tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes.  “Nathaly?”

Her face swiveled towards him, drawn, resigned, exhausted without the slightest trace of surprise.  “Hey.”

Alenko straightened a bit more, suppressing a yawn.  The clock showed three a.m.  “Where the hell did you get a cigarette?”

She glanced down at it in her hand as though startled to see it, then raised it to her lips as she turned back to the sea.  The tip flared orange.  She blew out another mouthful of smoke.  “I’m sorry.  This bed sheet of a window doesn’t crack open.  I’ll pay any damage to the room.”

He ran his hand over his face.  The only sound was the muffled hiss of the surf outside.  “What’s wrong?”

Shepard shrugged.  Her whole posture was defeated, a thin and haggard form in a tank top and underwear.  “Couldn’t sleep.  I wanted a cig so I went down to the sundry shop on the main floor.  Service round the clock, very nice.”

“If nothing were wrong, you would’ve smoked it down there.”

“I didn’t want to worry you if you woke up.”

He decided it wasn’t worth the breath to point out that she only ever smoked in permitted areas unless something had her too upset to resist.  It was a form of self-medication.  Alenko slid out of bed and padded across the floor, the sanded boards cool beneath his feet. 

He sidled up to her and rested his elbows on the table, rubbing his arms and trying not to shiver.  He glanced out the window.  “It’s a nice night.  Lots of stars.”

“Almost as good as the view out a station port.”

“No beaches on space stations.”

She didn’t reply, but took another draw on the cigarette.  Goosebumps stood up along her arms.

“Something wake you up?” he asked, keeping his tone casual.  She was unnaturally still beside him; he could almost feel the tension vibrating in her muscles.

For a moment he thought she would refuse to speak.  Then she drew a breath.  “One day about a month after Akuze, I drove back from the base after finishing work and I broke every plate, cup, and bowl in our house, all over the kitchen floor and out across the patio.  Todd came home and found me sitting in a pile of glass and pottery shards.  I couldn’t even tell him why.”

Alenko was uncertain of where this was going.  It was a very serious story to tell in such a nonchalant, uninflected tone as Shepard had adopted.  “Todd was your fiancé’s name?”

“Yeah.”  She put the cigarette to her lips and inhaled.

“What’d he say?”

“He kind of looked around.  Disgusted.  He asked what the hell was wrong with me.  If I knew how much all that had cost, or how long it was going to take to clean it up.”  Shepard blew out smoke.  “It was an observation day.  There’s a minimum of six weeks after something like that before they’ll even consider putting you back on active duty and they watch you all the time.  All I wanted was to get back out into it.”

A small, carefully tended flame flared a bit inside him, like a pilot light of infuriation.  He kept it from his voice.  His anger was the last thing she seemed to need.  “And what did you do?”

“I had little cuts all over me.  Nothing serious.  I patched myself together and swept up the mess.  Slathered foundation all over the visible ones before work the next morning.  Stung like hell but it did the job.”

“I can’t believe he just left you there with that.”  He couldn’t imagine his first concern being the mess, or the expense, not when he found someone he loved clearly in the middle of a real crisis.  Small wonder she didn’t trust people easily.

“There were a lot of… little incidents.  I convinced myself he couldn’t handle it, but the truth is he never tried.  And I never bothered to help much.  When I did get reactivated, I went after the hardest assignments I could find.  Trying to prove something, I guess.  It scared the shit out of him- and I wasn’t exactly working a nice desk job before, if that tells you how much worse it got.”  She shrugged.  “So he’d take himself off.  First to the next room, later to a hotel, later to his parents’ for days at a time.”

She calmly took another drag, almost too calmly, like she’d been this whole conversation.  Like she was having a quiet smoke waiting for the firing squad to get their shit together.  Alenko laid his hand on her thigh, tentative.  “Nathaly, what woke you up tonight?”

She shook her head.  “It’s not one of the ones I’ve mentioned to you.  I guess I wasn’t screaming, because you were still asleep when I finally escaped.”  Her hand shook a bit, the smoke wavering in the scant light.  “I don’t want to go back to sleep.”

“You had a nightmare.”  It wasn’t a question.  He carefully noted the word “escaped”.

“Let’s call it that, sure.”

“What else would you call it?”

“I don’t know.”  She shifted a bit, consciously or subconsciously moving closer to him.  He took the slight hint and hugged her hips, pulling her tight against him.  She didn’t object; on the contrary, she seemed to sag into him, seeking out warmth or comfort in the night.  “I’ve always had vivid dreams, even as a kid.  Not always unsettling ones but the kind where you wake up exhausted because of the intensity.  Like your brain didn’t get a chance to rest.”

“I doubt you were running out to the corner store for a cigarette as a kid,” he said, trying for a bit of humor.

He was rewarded with a half-smile.  “No.  My dad used to make me hot chocolate, the same way his mom did.  Apparently I’d slept well as a baby.  He’s still in disbelief over the restlessness I grew into.”

“When did it start?”

“When I was four or five, I think.”  She chuckled again, a bit less forced.  “It came as a shock when I realized most people couldn’t even remember their dreams in the morning.”

Then she rubbed her face with all trace of humor gone.  A little more of her guard slipped, and he could see she was beyond worn out.  “It’s ok to say you had a bad dream.  You had a lot of those on the _Normandy_.  It’s not going to upset me.”

“It’s different now.”

“I don’t think it is.”

Shepard looked at him directly, for as long as she could.  “It’s a different thing when it’s someone you’re this close to, because then it becomes a part of your life, too.”  Her gaze shifted away, out across the dark of the ocean.  “You stand there and ask me why I woke up and I can’t even tell you, because even I don’t know why I’m like this.” 

The implication, that sooner or later she’d watch him take himself off away from this too, hung unspoken between them.

“Hey.”  Alenko nudged her.  She looked so despondent it was hard for him not to hold her tight until the last of the worry slipped away.  But there was too much wordlessness here already.  “I’m here in this room because Nathaly Shepard asked me to come with her.  Every bit of me wants to be in this room with every bit of her.”

He watched her stare blankly out the glass, and added, “And if you want to break all the dishes, go right ahead.  I think there’s a pair of glasses in the bathroom.  We can buy more.”

She let out a sound that was almost a laugh- grudging, involuntary, but unmistakable.  “A pair of glasses at this place probably costs a month’s pay.”

“We can lie our asses off at checkout,” he amended, and she laughed again, a little more openly this time. 

Shepard rotated on the table until she could put her free arm around him, and buried her face in his neck.  “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”  He carefully snagged the cigarette and put it on the window, where the mark would wipe away.  Then he left a kiss on her shoulder.  “It’s cold.  We don’t have to sleep, but let’s at least crawl back into bed, ok?”

She allowed him to lead her back to the warmth of the covers, and nestled against his side.  After a few minutes, she said, “I really do apologize.  I stopped staying over with partners a long time back.  I don’t have any manners anymore.”

“I used to have bad dreams too,” he admitted, glancing down at her.  “Maybe not quite like you, but after leaving Jump Zero?  Yeah.”

“Somehow I doubt scaring off intimate company was high on your list of concerns back then.”

“That obvious, huh.”

She snuggled into him, sleepy despite her protestations.  “It’s probably for the best eighteen-year-old you never met fifteen-year-old me.”

He decided to play along.  “And why is that?”

Her hair smelled of smoke and salt and the hotel’s shampoo.  Her arm wrapped around his waist.  “We would’ve ruined each other.”

“I don’t know.  I could’ve stood knowing you another fifteen years.”

“That’s so cheesy I’m going to die.”

“I think sometimes you love cheesy.”  He poked her.  “You just won’t admit it.”

“Never,” she said, and closed her eyes.

Alenko was content to lay there with her, and after a time her breathing evened out, and he knew she was truly asleep.  He hoped it was treating her better.  He brushed some of that thick hair out of her eyes and his fingertips lingered on her forehead, the freckles dusted over her cheek, the lips of that wide, generous mouth that was so easy to kiss.  One thing he had not known before these last several days was how much the cold bothered her; she scrunched up under a pile of blankets pulled all the way to her ears, a living burrito, leaving hardly any for him.  It was adorable and funny all at the same time.

 

Shepard might consider herself a burden, but all Alenko could feel looking down at her was a kind of baffled amazement, that she was here with him, that she’d wanted him.  She could’ve had almost anyone- no matter what she thought.  She picked him. 

It was difficult to remember he only met her six months ago.  He felt like he’d known her for lifetimes.  She was the kind of friend he’d always wanted, and the partner he never knew he needed.  Someone who could share his whole life without flinching away. 

He wanted to take her back to Earth and show her Vancouver, meet his parents, go to sleep and wake up each day just like this.  He wanted a future with her, and it was a long time, years, since he felt that way about anybody.  But it wasn’t that easy.  In a few short days, they’d be back on the _Normandy,_ and Shepard would be less the woman sleeping beside him, stealing bites of his food and making him laugh about it with that little smirk she had, and more his commanding officer. 

Something had to give.  He didn’t want it to be this.  She deserved better.  Maybe they both did.

She seemed more at peace now.  It could be only his imagination, but he hoped not.  She deserved a little peace.  After making sure she was well and truly asleep, Alenko opened his omni-tool, logged into the navy’s intranet site, and began searching for the forms he needed.  Because there was only one way he could see this working out, even if Nathaly was absolutely going to hate it.

/\/\/\/\/\

“You’re becoming regulars,” the bartender said, as she placed another pair of beers in front of them.

Shepard raked her hair off her face and gave her a regretful smile.  “Our last night, unfortunately.”

“Stay a little longer,” she urged.  “I’ve been all over the galaxy, and I set my bar down here because you won’t find a beach like this on fifty worlds.”

“Us, too,” Alenko said, taking a drink of his beer.  “I can believe it.”

Shepard leaned against the counter.  “Climate’s nice.  Wish we could stay a few more days.”

“Says the person who hasn’t been turned into a lobster.”

Her fingers brushed over his neck.  “Yeah, this afternoon really put in the red in that burn.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap.  She yelped.  He nuzzled her shoulder.  “And who the hell are you to lecture anyone on climate?”

“What the hell do you know about beaches, Mr. From-the Frozen-Wastes-of-Canada?” she demanded, twisting her neck to look at him.

“It’s Vancouver, not Nunavut,” he protested.  “And I’ve been on vacation before.”

“You took a lot of field trips to the shore on Jump Zero, did you?”

“And I’m sure the Martian regolith is great for sunbathing-“

She pushed up her head and stopped him with a kiss.  His other arm slid around her.  The bartender shook her head.  “The pair of you are going to have this place sick with jealousy.”

“Does jealousy make people thirsty?” Shepard inquired.

“We’ll see.”  She hid a grin and got back to work.

Shepard drank her beer.  “We could exchange the shuttle tickets, you know.  Stay another day or three.  It’s not a popular route.”

“No, we can’t.”  His hands settled on her hips.  “You have a follow-up appointment with your doctor.”

She made a face.  “I had almost managed to forget.”

“I am going to put you in a gerbil ball.”

She burst out laughing.  “What?”

“One of those big plastic balls you put small rodents in to stop them from running into walls and under couches.”

He sounded so completely serious that Shepard could hardly take a breath.  She wheezed.  “ _What?_ ”

“Too much?” he asked.

“A little.”  


“Well, your only other choice is to stop whacking your head and go to your check-ups voluntarily.”

“Maybe not too much then.”  She moved her arm as the asari set their food down, and snagged a bite.  “This place seems to get more crowded every night.”

“I’m almost getting used to being surrounded by strangers all the time.  It’s going to be a little weird, getting back to the _Normandy_.”  He took a sip of his beer.

She knew what he meant.  Spaceships were like snow globes.  The crew was trapped inside, largely isolated from the world beyond its hull a majority of the time.  The dynamic created was both irritating and reassuring, almost a bit like a family, and the _Normandy_ crew was closer than most.

At the same time, it was nice, even necessary, to escape the hothouse every so often.  Shepard wasn’t quite done decompressing.  She turned around and relaxed against Kaidan, and felt him settle into his bar stool.  “Joker emailed me this morning.  The repairs are almost done.”

“Did Sovereign really blow out the whole side of the CIC?”

“Yeah- the damage from the outside was much worse.  And the IES complicated everything.  It’s highly classified and there weren’t any engineers stationed aboard the Citadel who were cleared to even inspect it.”  She closed her eyes, not caring much what they were discussing, concentrating on the warm weight of him against her back and the music thrumming through the bar. 

“Any idea what we’re going to be doing once she’s flight-worthy?”  The question was posed lightly, but she knew what he was really asking was whether Shepard would be aboard when the _Normandy_ left port.

She answered both questions together.  “I don’t know.  I need to talk to Anderson.”

“I think we should go back to Ilos.” 

That was so surprising that she straightened and turned to look at him.  “The Council wasn’t wild about us going into the Terminus the first time.”

“I know.”  Worry briefly shadowed his face, marring the holiday atmosphere.  “There’s got to be more there.  I’m not sorry to see Sovereign gone, but it was our only link to the reapers.”

“I hear you.  We’ve already ignored that problem too long in favor of an immediate threat.”  She shook her head.  “I don’t want us to get distracted again by stirring up trouble where none presently exists.  The Terminus is united on one thing only- staying independent from the Council.”

“Kind of sucks that all the keys to this mystery are hidden out there.”

“I don’t think it’s coincidence,” Shepard said, without thinking. 

He raised his eyebrows.  “What else could it be?”

She licked her lips, not quite sure herself where the thought came from.  “Think about it.  Vigil and Sovereign both told us that the reapers have been manipulating technological development for who knows how long, altering the course of uncountable civilizations.  Why wouldn’t they isolate any footprints they were forced to leave behind?”

“That’s…”  He trailed off.  “I don’t want to think too deeply about that.”

“This is what I’m saying.” 

“Screw it.”  He flattened his hand on the bar.  “I’m done talking about this.”

She smirked, and slid her hands to his waist.  “You know what our biggest problem is?”

“We’ve done absolutely nothing of interest in the last ten years except work?” 

“I was going to go with we don’t have any hobbies, but it’s the same thing.”  Her nose wrinkled.  “Face it.  We’re boring.”

“What would you do?  If you had time.”

“The worst part about living on Arcturus is that I couldn’t take my car with me.”  Real regret colored her voice.  “I bought that car because it’ll let you tinker to your heart’s content.  And now I don’t see it more than a few times a year, at best.”  Shepard shrugged.  “You?”

 He thought a moment.  “I played a lot of soccer in college.  Intramural, nothing serious.  I liked being on a team, being outside.  It would be nice to be available enough to do something like that.”  He pulled her in closer.  “I wouldn’t mind having more time for things like this either.”

She draped her arms over his shoulder and leaned in.  “We can make some time.  I have this feeling that we’re going to be on a short leash for a while.  That means lots of reporting in, at Arcturus and the Citadel.”

He touched his forehead to hers.  “You still haven’t shown me much of Arcturus.”

“And the only parts of the Citadel either of us know aren’t very…”

“Entertaining?” he suggested.

“Exactly,” she laughed.

And that was when the flash went off in their faces.

Their heads jerked up.  Shepard’s hand plunged through the slit of her skirt and touched her pistol grip before Kaidan managed to snag her wrist.  Her heart was racing.  Her pulse pounded against his fingers. 

“Wait-“ he breathed.

That small moment of forced inaction let her brain get a grip on her instincts and inject a modicum of rational thought. 

“Wait,” Kaidan repeated, a bit calmer.  His free hand was just now letting go of his fork, which he’d grabbed so tightly that red lines were etched into his palm.  Seeing that made her feel not quite so foolish.

His attention, however, was not on her.  She followed his look and found the very startled bartender clutching a datapad to her chest.  Her eyes darted between them.  “I’m sorry!  You looked so happy I couldn’t resist.  Maybe I should have asked-“

Shepard took in her shocked expression and the blinking datapad, and her blood pressure started to subside.  There was an awful taste in her mouth.  She reached for her beer without thinking, but it only made the bitter worse.  It did moisten her throat enough to speak.  “You took a picture?”

Kaidan’s hand had slid down into hers, warm, with the slightest sheen of sweat between their palms.  It shook a bit.  She squeezed, reassuring. 

“I’m sorry,” the bartender said again.

“It’s ok.” Alenko also sipped at his drink.  “We’re just a little…”

“Touchy,” Shepard offered.  She blew out a breath.  “It’s been a long year.”

The bartender still seemed uneasy, and several of the other patrons had turned to stare, so Shepard fixed what she hoped was a disarming smile on her face.  “A picture that launched at least two heart attacks is worth a look.”

The asari laughed, then, in a way that seemed mostly genuine, and leaned forward to let them have a look at the screen.  Shepard’s breath caught.  Her hand went to her mouth.

Of course she noticed Kaidan first.  He’d drawn her attention since he first set foot on her ship.  His control seldom wavered; he was always guarded, closed off against any possible assault.  Here he was careless.  His head bent towards hers, eyes half-shut and his mouth curved in the midst of a smile or a laugh.  There was an easiness about him that she’d seldom noticed, a warmth that seemed to emanate from within.  His pixels glowed. 

And Shepard- her hair was a mess, a fuzzy red halo frizzed and torn loose by the beach wind.  Four days in the sun had turned her bare shoulders from tan to bronze and brought every freckle to the surface.  Her forehead touched his, her hand curled around the nape of his neck.  Every line of her face, from the curve of her lips to the crinkles of her eyes, was pure affection.  There was a softness that seemed alien, something she never expected to see in herself- but she liked it.

She’d only asked to see the picture in order to normalize the situation.  She didn’t expect this.  A glance at Kaidan showed he was having a similar reaction.  His arm circled her.  She leaned in, and pointed at the datapad.  “Can we get a copy of that?”

/\/\/\/\/\

The shuttle pulled into port and the VI announced docking was complete. 

The handful of other passengers returning from Abael rose and began collecting their luggage.  Shepard and Alenko remained curled together in their seats.  She slumped into him, her head resting against his and their fingers intertwined.  The walk out of the docking tube loomed over her like the end of a dream, as though the last several days were of a world slipping sideways along this one, her own faery circle of suspended disbelief.  Leaving this shuttle would bring it all crashing down.

Beyond its hull, there would be reporters, and annoyed supervisors, reapers and war and bailing out a boat that didn’t seem to have any bottom with both hands.  Her attention would be parceled off, bit by bit, until there was hardly anything substantial of her left.  Lavishing all of it on him and ignoring those responsibilities was an excruciating indulgence, even for a short while, one that suffused her with delight as well as guilt.  And she’d soaked up his attention like water into cracked mud.  It fixed nothing, but for a little while, everything felt that much better. 

“We need to go,” he said, reluctant even as she clung to him.

Shepard shook her head and kissed him, not desperate, but deep and full and promising.  His hand moved in her hair, the strands knotting in his fingers, keeping her mouth pressed to his.  She scooted over until they were as close as two people in separate shuttle seats could be.  Evidently unsatisfied, he swung his legs up over hers, hugging her lap with his knees and calves.  They sank back against the cushions.

When they broke apart at last, Shepard stroked his face.  “I’m not ready to leave.”

“Yet here we are.”  His hand covered hers.  He kissed her again, gently.  She savored the taste and leaned in for another, soft and wet.

A flight attendant passing through the cabin, checking for garbage and lost items, came to a full stop and blinked.  “Excuse me.”

Shepard and Alenko were in their own world.  They ignored her.  She crossed her arms.  “ _Excuse me._ ”

Guilt made Kaidan look up.  Shepard sighed at him. 

The flight attendant made a clucking sound.  “Passengers are expected to exit the shuttlecraft once we have reached our destination.”

“We were waiting for the shuttle to empty,” Alenko temporized.  Shepard stared up at the woman sullenly, making no such apologies.

She glanced around the vacant cabin pointedly.  Alenko cleared his throat.  “We were just leaving.”

“Of course.”  Her expression was sour.  “Now, please.”

With elaborate resentment, Shepard shrugged to her feet until she towered over the woman, and stretched, exaggerating the movement to emphasize her strength.  The flight attendant took a step back and pursed her lips.

Alenko rolled his eyes at this show of intimidation.  As they made their way out of the shuttle, he said, “The end of our vacation is not her fault, Nathaly.”

“Yeah, but I feel like blaming somebody.  Might as well be some stranger I’ll never see again.”  She took his hand as they entered the docking tube. 

“We knew we had to get back to work sometime.”  He offered her a half-smile.  “It’ll be ok.”

“No,” she said, returning it fully.  “It’ll be better.”


	57. The Next Mission

Shepard answered Anderson’s “request” for a meeting with scrupulous care, arriving at the restaurant ten minutes early.  It was an Italian place hidden in the depths of Zakera Ward, not far from the Alliance outpost, but far enough that it wasn’t overrun by soldiers.  Anderson still managed to beat her there and waited at a corner table.  Judging by the comfortable familiarity of the staff, he was a regular.

He was nursing a cup of coffee when she walked up.  “Shepard.”

She hung her leather jacket off the back of the chair and dropped into the seat, heavily.  Getting back to a full schedule, even if it was only meetings and strategy, was taking more of a toll than she cared to admit.

He wasn’t fooled, but only folded his hands.  “You still wearing that ratty old thing?”

“It’s not ratty,” she protested.  “I stole it from my dad.”

“And it was ratty when he owned it.”

“Did you ask me here to comment on my fashion, Councilor?”  She only just managed to keep a straight face. 

“That’s a bit premature,” he rumbled, but it was a token gesture only.  His nomination had gained momentum.  Shepard’s endorsements had helped- she was still a bit amazed at how well the letter writing paid off- and Udina’s personality had done the rest.  He had not taken the challenge with any measure of grace.  Temper tantrums didn’t play well on the vids, and even less well before Parliament, who had been dispatched to confirm the nomination.

Shepard crossed her arms and slouched in her seat.  “If you’re expecting me to apologize, we may be here awhile.”

“If I’d realized how much this spectre gig would go to your head, I’d have given it to someone else.”  He glowered at her across the table, brow scrunched up over his eyes, but his heart wasn’t in it. 

“Consider the promotion a sincere thank-you, sir.”  Her mouth turned up at a corner despite her best efforts.  Her shoulders shook with the effort to suppress the urge to laugh.

He held onto his dignity for several more seconds, each longer than the last, before a chuckle escaped his mouth.  Anderson looked down at the table and shook his head.  “You are something else, Commander.”

“Someday I’ll stumble and it’ll catch up to me,” she said.  “But not today.”

“No,” he agreed.  The waiter dropped off plates of food- he’d ordered for them both again.  Shepard recognized the ravioli, the same as they’d shared right after her assignment to the spectres was announced.  It seemed like half an age past. 

“So,” she said once they’d both had their initial fill, “What did you want to talk about?”

Anderson leveled his gaze across the table.  Shepard sat back again, matching him stare for stare. 

He continued to look at her, unblinking.  “Before we begin, allow me to make one thing clear.”

“Sir?”

“I had a look at the _Normandy_.”  He folded his hands.  “You scratched the paint and then some.”

She raised her eyebrows.  “You’re really going to complain to me about treating our frigate like the warship she is?”

“She was brand new,” he grumbled.

Shepard recalled how aghast she’d been at the state of the paint, back on Feros, and mustered some sympathy.  “She’s a good boat.  The attack blew one of the starboard engines straight into the CIC and every last member of the crew walked away without serious injury.  She was made for war.”

“She was made for reconnaissance.”  Anderson leveled a look at Shepard.  “She was forced into war.”

“Reconnaissance is just another word for intelligence.  So to that I’ll answer- weren’t we all?”

He conceded the point with a barely audible grunt and changed the subject.  “Also, if you ever cause me to have a conversation like that with your mother again, I may kill you myself and save us all some trouble.”

“She had some choice words about letting me run around with a head injury,” Shepard hazarded.

“Good guess.”  His inflection indicated he also had some choice words on Shepard’s cavalier treatment of her health.

“That may be one advantage to the Councilor gig,” she pointed out, her mouth quirking.  “Less lip from naval officers.”

“Or none.”  He cleared his throat.  “If I accept the nomination, I’ll be forced to resign my commission.”

Shepard was taken aback, and for the first time, felt something like guilt.  “I didn’t realize that, sir.”

“It’s alright.”  He shrugged, philosophically.  “I’m going along with this because I don’t think you’re wrong about the coming war, or Udina’s motives.   My duty’s led me down stranger and lonelier roads.  But let’s get down to business.”

She leaned forward, keenly interested.  “Where are we going next?”

“I’ve spent the last few days conferring with Admiral Hackett.  He’s one of us.”  There was a special emphasis in his enunciation that took her a moment to puzzle out.

She blinked.  “He believes the reaper threat is real.”

Anderson nodded.  “To that end, and in light of your medical condition, we think it’s best to employ the _Normandy_ in her original purpose.”

“Where?”

“The Terminus Systems.”  He cleared his throat.  “You’ll need her stealth capabilities to avoid a galactic incident.  No use of force is authorized except in direct defense of the ship.”

Objections rose to her lips immediately.  “Sir-“

He overrode her.  “You’ll be hunting geth enclaves.  Mark their position, collect what intel you can, and relay it back to the Fifth Fleet.  With Sovereign gone, nobody can guess the geth’s next move.  I don’t think they’ll suffer the defeat of their ‘god’ lightly.”

“Anderson, the _Normandy_ can do more than flag pockets.  We can wipe them out.  The geth prefer remote locations unless they’re hunting specific artifacts.  Nobody will be the wiser.”

“Shepard, I realize that you were granted a good deal of independence in executing your last assignment and I respect what you were able to accomplish with that free reign, but I’m not asking.  These are your orders.”

“These orders don’t make any damn sense.”

“The _Normandy_ is not invincible,” Anderson said harshly.  “And neither are you.”

Her hand curled on the table, nails scraping half-moon shapes in the checkered vinyl cloth.  “This is about my injury.”

“This is about maintaining peace with the Terminus Systems, making the best use of our only stealth frigate, and preparing for war.”  His dark eyes were made of steel.  “Your spectre rank, your association with the Alliance, your personal reputation- they mean _nothing_ out there.  You know that.  And I assure you, they mean nothing to the geth.”

She stared at him flatly and with no small amount of venom.  “Some doctor got into your head and told you to put me on a leash.”

“I’m astonished.”

“Pardon?” His lack of reaction derailed her.

“I am astonished,” he said, “That a head that big manages to fit so far up your ass.”

She glowered, but before she could speak, Anderson thumped his fist on the table.  “Damn it, Nathaly.  Yes, you are important to me.  But a marine who can’t follow orders isn’t worth anything to the Alliance, spectre or no.”

Several nearby patrons looked up from their spaghetti, startled by the fuss.  Shepard glanced away.  He continued at a softer volume.  “If I had my way, you wouldn’t see the inside of a ship again without a full endorsement from medical.  The navy has other ideas.  But they have no use for anybody, no matter how experienced, who can’t act like the commander she is.”

She pursed her lips, annoyed, but swallowed it.  “I won’t let you down.”

“Good.”  Anderson speared another mouthful of pasta.  “On the subject of the duties of command, there is another situation we need to discuss.”

Shepard crossed her legs and straightened in her seat, knowing perfectly well what he meant.  It only surprised her that it had taken him this long to bring it up.  “Is that so.”

Anderson dabbed at his mouth with the napkin.  “I couldn’t help but notice you with Lieutenant Alenko after the battle.  Hell, so did everyone else.”   

His disapproval was expected, but there was also a hint of amusement.  She tread carefully.  “At the time we weren’t overly concerned with discretion.”

“Apparently not.”  He leaned forward and folded his hands on the table.  “Shepard, you can’t continue this relationship.”

“The hell I can’t.”  She sat back, digging in.

“Dammit, Shepard.  You _know_ the regs as well as I do.  The reapers are coming.  We don’t have time for this nonsense.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”  Her blue eyes were pure frost.  “The reapers are coming, and he’s one of the most experienced and knowledgeable of my crew.  Kaidan was with me on Eden Prime, on Virmire when we spoke with Sovereign, on Ilos when we found the Prothean VI.  Most everyone who knows our enemy better is either dead or sitting in this room, and that’s fact.  We work well together, no matter what regs say.”

“Knowledge we can certainly make use of elsewhere.  He comported himself well- he’s probably due a promotion.  You all are.  What he knows won’t go to waste.”

“Let’s the cut the crap.”

“Fine.”  Anderson was smoldering now.  “Officers of the Alliance don’t fraternize with their subordinates, Commander.  It poses an unacceptable risk to the mission and fosters ill will in the crew.  End of story.”

“Kaidan has a good rapport with the rest of the crew, and that’s not easy to replace either, not after what the _Normandy’s_ been through.”

Anderson’s hand sliced through the air, negating.  “Not the point.”

They stared each other down for a long moment.  Neither blinked.  Finally, Shepard said, quietly, “I don’t think you want to have this conversation.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I’m a spectre.  You’ve said it yourself- my concerns are larger than humanity now.  Maybe I should focus on that role.  And my contract with SAN is up next April.  I was planning to re-up, but…”

Anderson burst out laughing.  “I’m going to have to call your bluff on that one.”

“No bluff.”  Shepard stabbed her finger at the table.  “My life has belonged to everyone but myself since I was eighteen years old.”

Anderson rolled his eyes, dismissive.  She was not dissuaded.  “And don’t talk to me like I’m any other officer, sir, because we both know that isn’t true.  Don’t you dare.  If anyone should understand this is a different situation, it’s you.”

“You’re serious.”  His chuckle faded, and he frowned.

“Damn right I’m serious.”  She shook her head.  “I’m not saying no.  The reapers are coming.  Someone’s going to have to deal with them.  It’s not going to be the Council, and it’s not going to be Command.  My life isn’t mine.  That’s ok.  Everyone should do that, experience serving something bigger than themselves.  But it’s been eleven years and I need…”  She trailed off, searching for words.  Something diplomatic and honest enough that he might actually hear it.  But something that didn’t leave her sitting there with her whole heart open on the table.  “When the reapers come to kill me, I’m not going to wonder what I missed.  And if that doesn’t suit the navy’s agenda, I’m sorry, but it’s time to part ways.”

“Shepard-“

“I’m not you,” she spat, recalling what he’d said about his divorce, and that in all their time together, that was the first mention he’d made of any kind of significant other.

It stopped him cold.  He licked his lips, folded his hands, and contemplated her.  The minutes stretched.  She returned his look evenly, refusing to let him see her sweat.  He shook his head.  “I could have you court-martialed for refusing an order.”

“Sure could.  You won’t, though.  There’s too much going on already.”

“I could send him new orders anyway.  He doesn’t have your rebellious streak.”

Shepard’s expression didn’t waver.  Kaidan wouldn’t refuse a direct, legitimate order from a superior officer, no matter how much he hated it, and Anderson knew it.  Which was why she had to go to bat for both of them.  “The result will be the same.  I’ll be polite, in public.  I won’t have a bad word to say about the service.  But behind closed doors, when you get asked what the hell happened, you’re going to have to tell them that you gave a bigger shit about what goes on in my bed than what I can do for the Systems Alliance as a spectre.”

Anderson stared.  “And you insist you’re no good at politics.  This is the kind of weasel crap I’d expect from Udina.”

She winced then, her face twitching, but held her ground.  “Be that as it may.”

“Especially when all I’m asking is that you do your job and follow the rules you agreed to when you signed up.”

“I can’t,” she said softly.  “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t lie.  You’ve never been sorry.”  Anderson massaged his forehead.  “You weren’t sorry when you leaked Saren’s name, you weren’t sorry when you hit that Cerberus lab on Nepheron, you weren’t sorry when you nominated me for Councilor, and you’re not sorry now.”

“I am sorry that my choices sometimes make your life harder, even if I’m not sorry for the choices themselves.”

He ate a forkful of food in silence, and then another, and washed it down with a gulp of his coffee before responding.  He waited so long that she began to wonder if she’d finally pushed the boundary between their friendship and professionalism too far.  Then he sighed.  “Fine.  Not because of your threat, but because I do trust you.”

Shepard let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.  “Thank you-“

Anderson’s eyes narrowed.  “But so help me, Shepard, you’re going to keep a lid on this or I will have the both of you brought up on charges so quickly your heads will spin clear off- war or no war.”

His gaze had her pinned to her chair.  She swallowed.  “We behaved ourselves for months.  We can handle it.”

He glared.  “See that you do.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Anderson eyed her critically for another long moment, watching for signs of insincerity, and then went back to his pasta.  Shepard did the same though she found she’d lost most of her appetite.  He continued more quietly, letting go of the sternness.  “I know it’s hard.  Feeling cut off from something it seems like everyone else gets to experience.  I’ve had my share of that.  I’m just trying to save you from decisions you can’t unmake.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” she answered, her voice equally gentle.  “This decision was made when I let him into my life, which was a long time before this conversation.”

“If that’s how it is,” he said, raising his fork, “Then consider this.”

“Sir?”

He speared a bit of pasta and a bit of chicken and dragged it through the sauce.  “Disobeying orders may not faze you, giving your health any consideration may seem like a waste of time.  Brain hemorrhage?  Who cares?  The mission was successful.” 

She snorted.  “Do you have a point?”

“You say you love this man?  What happens to him if you engage the enemy against your orders and turn yourself into a vegetable?”

Shepard licked her lips.

Anderson stared at the forkful of food.  “It’s easy to die for people.  It’s harder to live for them, because living is a series of choices, and the most difficult choice is the one you don’t like but somebody else needs.  Choosing them over yourself- over your mission.  That’s the part I could never figure out.  Maybe that’s how you’re not like me.  If you’re not.”

She could not think of an adequate response.  He put the fork in his mouth, chewed and swallowed in silence.

The waiter returned bearing dessert.  The arrival of the tiramisu provided and a natural and welcome opportunity to change the topic. 

“So,” Anderson asked, setting aside the pasta along with the heavy conversation.  “I know you’re not quite as familiar with the Terminus as other parts of the galaxy, but you must have some idea where you’d like to start.”

“Don’t know.”  Shepard dug in her spoon, relieved to be back to business.  He’d hit more than one nerve and left her thoughts twanging.  She didn’t care to dwell on them.  “I want to check in with intel.”

“You never liked the pencil-pushers before.”  Intel was well-known in the navy as a particularly nervous rating.

“Still don’t.  But if anyone’s been tracing what’s left of the geth fleet, it’s them.”  Her omni-tool buzzed.  She checked the notification.  “Speak of the devil.”

“Hmm?”

“Hackett’s office wants me to meet with one of the gremlins.  Major Carroll, Naval Intelligence.”

Anderson took another swallow of coffee.  “He got right on that.”

Shepard raised an eyebrow.  He offered her a smug smile.  “I let the admiral know I was giving you your orders today.  I thought he might have some parting suggestions.”

“So all of this…?”

“Let’s just say I thought you’d come around.” 

She just shook her head.  “I need to hurry if I’m going to make this.”

“Good luck, Shepard.”

She got up and pushed in her chair, and gave him a sardonic look.  “You too, Councilor.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Two hours later, Shepard was making her way back to the dock when she recognized a man approaching her down the hallway.  “Oh, god no-“

“Commander Shepard!”  Conrad Verner waved at her brightly.  He was dressed in what looked like a costume version of a hardsuit.  Thankfully, sans the all-too-real rifle.

She pinched the bridge of her nose.  “Conrad-“

“I know you had to block my emails.  That’s ok.  I know you were busy.”

“I don’t have time for this.”  She wanted to push by him and be on her way.  She knew she should.  But through some unfortunate quirk of her mentality, he was as difficult to stop watching as a shuttle crash.  It was a matter of morbid curiosity.

“I’ve got an idea I want to run by you.”  He was bursting with pride.  “With so many human colonies attacked the last few months, and with this new war you keep talking about coming, I’m not sure one spectre is enough.”

Shepard’s mouth dropped open.

He hooked his thumbs into the velcro utility belt.  “What if you signed me on as another spectre?”

“I haven’t been shot in the head nearly enough times to think that’s a good idea.” 

“But I’d be a great spectre!”  He swept his hand out in front of him, his imagination clearly seeing another reality.  “Standing right there with you showing the Council what humanity is capable of!  There were people who didn’t believe in you, right, but you made it-“

“That was completely different.”  Coming off the labyrinthine thought process which characterized Alliance intel and the conversation with Anderson earlier, her patience was at a nadir.

Conrad failed to heed the warning in her voice.  He gave her an understanding smile.  “I know you’re afraid to trust people after losing your team on Akuze, but I won’t let you down.”

 

To date, Shepard felt she had been more than kind regarding Verner’s bizarre obsession with her. She gave him an autograph.  Her response to his creepy fan mail was terse, but unthreatening.  Condescending to her about Akuze was the last straw.  Shepard snapped.  “You bring up Akuze.  To me.  Like you know the first fucking thing about _anything_ , you clueless little imbecile.”

Verner opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, Shepard’s pistol was in her hand and she took one long stride towards him, pressing him into the wall and set the barrel between his eyes.

“This is what Akuze felt like,” she hissed, enunciating every word.  “Do you like it?”

He tried to peddle away from her, but she wasn’t letting him go anywhere.  His wide cow’s eyes darted left and right, up and down, anywhere but her gun. “Why are you doing this? 

She pushed into him, until she was sure the barrel would leave a mark, just long enough to be memorable.  “This is what a gun in your face feels like.  This happens to me every day.  You can’t handle this, Conrad.  You can’t even tell a costume from a real kit.” 

He was shaking head to toe.  Shepard didn’t feel a shred of shame.  This had gone on long enough.  She dropped her voice another octave.  “Tell me.  Do you think this cheap plastic and fiberglass shit you’re wearing is going to save your ass when I pull this trigger?”

“I thought you were a hero!” he burst out.  Sweat poured down his forehead.  “Heroes don’t do things like this!”

“Heroes keep people safe.”  She let him go.  He sagged against the wall.  “Sometimes that means a fight.  Sometimes it just means showing other people their own limitations, so they don’t hurt themselves.”

He was almost sobbing.  “I wish I never met you!”

“Likewise,” she said, and holstered her pistol.  “Go home to your wife.  Go home to your job.  Leave me alone.  And stop invoking parts of other people’s lives you haven’t paid for to bolster your own fantasies.”

Shepard watched him slink off, trembling, afraid and offended, and decided this wasn’t a story she needed to share with Kaidan.  It was doubtful he’d understand.

She continued on towards the dock.

As if her day weren’t already bad enough, she managed to run into Pressly just outside the tube.  His mouth thinned into a line as she stepped into view.  Shepard suppressed a sigh- or a curse- and forced a pleasant smile on her face.  "Something I can do for you, Navigator?"

He squared his shoulders.  "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

"Knock yourself out."  This had been a long time coming.  Pressly's intense disapproval of her command was hardly disguised.  It might as well be now- while she was already annoyed, and before they were in deep space.

Pressly steeled himself.  It was obvious he’d thought over what to say for a long time.  She wondered if he’d written it down- a little speech, a work in progress, to keep him busy during their traverses through the void. 

"I've never seen a C.O. like you,” he began.  “You're undisciplined, you lose your temper constantly, and you have no respect for any authority but your own.  You welcomed aliens aboard a classified vessel.  You advised Command to allow one of the greatest military assets in the galactic fleet to be destroyed with the leaders of the galaxy aboard.” 

He paused for breath.  The hits kept coming.  Shepard clasped her hands her back and waited for the rant to run its course, utterly placid.

“You're mouthy and demanding with your crew.  You’re mouthy with your _superiors_.  And _their_ superiors.  We're not even going to _start_ on your conduct with Staff Lieutenant Alenko.  In twenty years of service I've never met an officer who so delighted in using regulations to wipe her ass." 

She raised one red eyebrow, but didn’t offer protest.  He seemed nearly out of steam.

He then pulled himself to attention and offered her a textbook salute.  "And there's no officer I'd rather serve with."

She blinked.  He continued, "You get it done, ma'am.  No matter what they drop in our laps, you get it done, and you make it look easy.  Maybe that requires outside the box thinking, or maybe it's just you, but either way, I'm proud to be your X.O."

She was certain she resembled a fish out of water, gaping at him for several moments until she found her voice and returned the salute.  That was the last place she expected this conversation to go.  "Thank you, Pressly.  As you were."

In six months she’d rarely seen anything resembling amusement cross Pressly’s face, but he seemed light on his feet as he fell in beside her.  They walked towards the dock.  “The _Normandy_ is in top condition, ma’am.  The repairs passed with flying colors.  We’re ready to depart on your order.”

/\/\/\/\/\

_Normandy_ pulled out of port right on schedule, and made for the Terminus Systems.  It was a roundabout path that took the better part of ten days to avoid detection.  Luckily, it would take less time to leave.

Navy Intelligence believed the remainder of the geth forces were scattered between Omega and the Perseus Veil.  Certain members of the crew, especially the younger marines, were initially excited by that proclamation.  However, Shepard was dead set on avoiding Omega if at all possible.  She’d passed through before and not liked it much, though she could understand the mystique.  Built inside a mined-out asteroid and close to the Traverse border, it was one of the largest settlements in the Terminus, with an especially seedy reputation for lawlessness and all manner of immoral activity.  Shepard couldn’t imagine the kind of stir docking a flagged Alliance vessel might cause.  But logistical math had hard limits that didn’t care much about her political concerns.

The repairs hadn’t fixed the thermostat.  It only took her two searches of her cabin to realize her leather jacket was back at the restaurant on the Citadel.  She ran her hand over her face.  “Shit.”

They’d only left a few days ago.  The Italian place wasn’t exactly five-star, but it wasn’t a dive either.  Odds were good somebody was still keeping it under the counter in case she came back.  Now, what was it called…?

Serviceman Santos gave her a dubious stare.  “You want to spend your personal comm minutes calling a restaurant.”

“I like that jacket.  I’ve spent years molding it to fit me.  It’s comfortable.”

“This is highly unusual-“

“But it’s not against regulations.”

Santos sighed and held out a datapad.  “Make sure you fill out the rationale box on the form.  They are going to audit this one.”

Shepard took it and began filling in the fields.  “You’d think the pencil-pushers would have better things to do with their time.”

Santos tucked her hands in her pockets and leaned back against her station.  “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of Dmitri Anokhin.  Being a fancy spec ops agent and all.”

Shepard furrowed her brow without looking up.  “Who?”

“Lieutenant, ten years back, working in a dreadnought CIC.  He spent all his call time checking in with a construction firm building his house, back on Earth.”

“Sounds reasonable.”  Her eyes flitted over the form, checking her entries.

“There was no house.  The firm was a shell company selling intel on the open market.  Mainly batarian buyers.”

“But those calls are logged.  And the officer on duty can listen in whenever.”

“How many times do you think a comm officer listens to some stuffed-shirt officer delve into the minutiae of tile color options before she decides it’s a waste of her time?”

“Point taken.”  Shepard handed the datapad back.  “This is just a restaurant.  I promise.”

Santos hit the buttons to approve the form.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll know if it’s not.”

Shepard did glance at her then, irked, but saw the slight twitch and realized this was Santos’ taciturn way of making a joke.  “As you were, Serviceman.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”  She turned back to her station.

Shepard proceeded to the comm room.  This early in the day, there were no higher priority transmissions.  It only took a few minutes to explain the situation.  The hostess was gearing up for the dinner rush, in accordance with the Citadel’s timekeeping.  She remembered Shepard.  Shepard figured it was difficult to forget the future human Councilor coming in to grab a bite, or his guests.

For similar reasons, or maybe just to be nice, she agreed to put the jacket away until Shepard could return for it.  It would be no problem, she insisted.

As Shepard was thanking her one last time, she felt a buzzing in her head and stepped aside just in time to avoid an apple sailing through the air.  It bounced off the console and rolled onto the floor.

She turned toward the hatch, exasperated.

“How do you always know I’m coming?”  Kaidan seemed a bit put out.  He lounged against the doorframe and folded his arms.

“You’d have better luck just throwing it at me the old-fashioned way.”  She picked up the piece of fruit and turned it over in her hands. 

“I’m practicing fine control.  Lightweight stuff, small tasks without a lot of force.  I haven’t done much of it since I was in school.  Could come in handy.”

“And you’re practicing by throwing things at people.”  It had happened several times since leaving port.  Shepard was bemused.

“Just you.” 

“Just me.”  She walked until there were no more than a few centimeters between them and copied his posture.  His mouth turned up the corner.  She held up the apple and raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged, admitting defeat.  “Seriously- you never seem surprised, no matter what I toss out, even when it’s not directed at you.  Even in a real fight.  It’s weird.”

“It’s the buzzing, you idiot.”  She rolled her eyes and tweaked his collar.

“Buzzing?”  His face contorted.  “What buzzing?”

“You know, whenever you or Liara break out the biotics.  Like a bee in my skull.  I got it around the Relay Monument too,” she reflected.  “In hindsight that should’ve been a dead give-away something was up with that thing-“

Shepard took in his expression, and paused.  “Kaidan, what?”

“Nothing.  I just… I’ve never heard of something like that.”

She straightened.  “You mean everyone doesn’t feel that?”

He made a kind of disbelieving sound.  “No.”

Something about calling it out like that, realizing this thing she’d thought very normal was in fact very strange, left her feeling off-balance.  She folded her arms over her stomach.  “It’s not like it’s any big deal.”

“Those first-gen ships you were born on had eezo cores that were leaky as hell.”  Alenko chewed his lip.  “Did anyone ever test you?”

“Kaidan,” she chuckled.  “If I could move stuff around with my brain I’m pretty sure I’d know about it.”

“There’s a whole range of aptitude.  Not everyone is on the high end.”

“Then it’s not worth talking about, is it?”  The whole suggestion was too absurd for her to be able to even pretend to take seriously.

“You’re probably right.”  Still, he seemed of two minds.

“Come on,” she said, tossing the apple back to him and changing the subject.  “We’re going to miss breakfast.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Weeks passed.  The ship settled into a routine.  Shepard despised routine.  Order, sure, but a routine meant nothing exciting or unexpected entered her life.  That her head continued to ache intermittently did nothing to remedy her frustration.  Chakwas insisted her recovery was progressing as expected. 

Scanning planets, most inhospitable to life, frozen or scorched beyond all chance of habitation, and calling in the survey when they found evidence of geth, was slowly driving her insane.  She could stare down at their enclaves and know that her ship’s battery was capable of wiping them off the face of the universe, or when they were underground, that her marines could easily dispatch the refugee machines.  Sometimes, she pictured it so clearly in her mind that it was almost real. 

But every time, she bit the tongue that longed to give the order and sent her report home like a good girl. 

She slumped on the bridge.  Joker shifted in his couch.  “We’ve got a drop ship down on the surface, ma’am.  Strong signs of geth activity.”

“Put it in the log,” she sighed, and moved her feet up onto the console in front of the co-pilot’s seat.  It was early in the morning- or late at night, depending on one’s perspective.

“It’s vulnerable,” he said.  He glanced at her sideways.  “Not even a patrol guarding it.  I’ve been watching for twelve hours.”

“Any other geth settlements on this planet?”

“None.”

She rubbed her forehead.  “Put it in the log.”

“Ma’am?”

“We have our orders.”  There was no inflection in her tone, save for tiredness.  “This is a recon mission.  Nothing more.”

Joker turned his head then, staring at her a little longer.  “Ok, no offense, Shepard, but this is getting really fucking weird.”

She stared sullenly out the forward port.  “These orders came down from Hackett directly, via Anderson’s mouth.  What do you want from me?”

“Since when do we care what they tell us to do?”  He gestured at his array of screens.  “We give Command what they need.  They don’t give damn how after-the-fact.”

“Just take the pictures, Joker.”

“What in the hell did Anderson say to you?” he demanded.

_What happens to Kaidan if you turn into a vegetable?_

She rubbed her face.  Her head throbbed.  “He told me to do my job.  Now I’m telling you to do your damn job.”

“Commander-“

“This ship,” she said, “Has seen more combat since it launched than ten average frigates combined.  The navy wants us to take it easy for a while.  I don’t like it any more than you, but that doesn’t make them wrong.”

Joker was fully prepared to argue the point further, but the comm interrupted.  “Commander, you have a priority call from Admiral Hackett standing by.”

“Hackett?”  She glanced at the time, surprised.  “I’ll be right there.”

She levered herself out of the couch and made for the comm room.

Hackett’s hologram was wide awake, and waiting patiently.  Shepard rubbed the sleep from her eyes.  “Sir.”

“Apologies for the late call, Commander.  I’m aboard the Citadel at the moment to assist with the transition.”

It was only mid-afternoon Citadel time.  She tried to summon more energy.  “Of course.  What do you need, Admiral?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”  He paused, an unusual hesitation.  “I’ve served thirty years, through Relay 314 and Elysium and all the rest of it, and I’ve never seen anything like what we saw at the Citadel.  I still don’t know what to make of it.”

“That makes two of us, sir.” 

“What you uncovered during your mission has allowed us and our allies to place a good deal of additional information into proper context.  The reapers, or their agents, planned this for a long time.  They won’t suffer this defeat lightly.”

She was too tired for diplomacy.  “I hope not.”

His brow furrowed.  “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Given the chance, I’ll always choose an angry enemy over a cold one.”  Her mouth quirked.  “Angry ones screw up more often.”

“You may be right.”  He paused again.  “I owe you an apology.  You were right about Cerberus too.  I’ve had some staff picking away at our archives.  They’re up to their necks in this.  I don’t know quite how or why yet- but they’ve been interested in signs of reaper activity for a decade, maybe longer.  We weren’t able to put it together until now.  I was too preoccupied with protocol to take your concerns seriously.”

“I could have shown more deference to chain of command when addressing those concerns,” she admitted, feeling generous in light of his rare admission of fault.  It seemed like he wanted to patch things up.  If she’d learned nothing else the last six months, it was to never neglect an ally.  There weren’t enough of them to be anything less than generous.

“David Anderson always put a lot of faith in you.  I don’t think you even know how much.”  Hackett rested his chin in his hand.  “The _Normandy_ project was a wreck.  ‘Joint species effort’ my ass.  The turians walked off the project and the whole mess landed in his lap.  There was enough money sunk into it that most of his requests for crew went through no problem, but naming you his X.O.-“

Hackett actually laughed.  It was an oddly carefree gesture for him.

Her brow furrowed.  “I didn’t find out I was assigned to the _Normandy_ until a few weeks before she launched.”

“He was determined to shove you down Command’s throat.  They liked your work.  They didn’t want you within ten parsecs of a C.O.’s chair, myself included.  You’re on this ship because he wouldn’t let it go.”

Shepard felt her cheeks warm.  She licked her lips, few words coming to mind.  “I don’t know what to say, sir.”

“You might try thank you, the next time you see him.”

Her face was absolutely burning.  She shifted in place.  “I’ll do that, sir.”

“No need to be embarrassed.  He clearly knew what he was doing.”  Hackett cleared his throat and glanced down at some paperwork.  “Speaking of _Normandy’s_ crew.  Since I’ve got you here, I thought I’d let you know Staff Lieutenant Alenko’s transfer request was approved.”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach.  She was left floundering.  “What?”

“He’s due to report to the _SSV Agincourt_ in two weeks.  That should give you plenty of time to wrap up recon in this sector.  You should meet with Intel again while you’re aboard the Citadel, to review your findings.  And start thinking about who you’d pick for his replacement.  I can’t make any guarantees, but-“

“Did Anderson put in the request?” she interrupted, too shocked to be polite.

Hackett’s brow furrowed, momentarily derailed.  “No, Alenko put it in himself.   Is something wrong?”

She licked her lips and forced herself to breathe.  “No, sir.  I’ll… plan accordingly.”

“Good.”  He reached for the button to sever the comm link.  “Hackett out.”

Shepard waited for his holo to fade away, and then all but ran down to her quarters and tossed the couch cushions until she located her datapad.  There was a new email from Alliance Command, relaying the change in orders, sent that afternoon.  No matter how long she stared at it, it didn’t begin to make sense.

She glanced at the clock, decided she didn’t give a damn, and stormed out to the hot bunks at the fore of the deck.

Her hand slapped the haptic interface floating off the glass surface of his pod-like bunk without bothering to queue a waking procedure.  Alliance personnel sometimes called them loaner coffins, due to the small size and enclosed conditions.  The opaqued glass slid away.  A very confused and disoriented Kaidan blinked up at her.  “Are we under attack?”

“What the hell is this?”  She all but threw the datapad at him, not bothering with any context.

He fumbled it.  The datapad clattered to the deck.  He stared at her blearily.  “Nathaly, what-“

She picked it up and shoved it into his hands, crossed her arms, and waited with an expression like a hurricane.

He woke up a little more as he scanned the email.  “Oh, fuck.”

“Is that all you have to say?”  One pod over, Ensign Draven stirred slightly in her bunk.

“People are trying to sleep.”  He stepped out of the pod and put his arm around her waist, guiding her towards the lounge and keeping to a heavy whisper.  “Let me explain.”

“I had to get this cold from Hackett,” she hissed. 

“I’m sorry.  I honestly thought I’d find out about it before they notified you.”

“That’s your excuse?!”

“I’ve never requested transfer before.  I wasn’t sure how it worked.”

“Sounds like the kind of thing you should have looked up,” she sniped back.

They arrived at the lounge.  He let her go and rubbed his forehead.  Frost was all but floating off her skin.  “Please, just listen to me.  One minute.”

She waited, glowering.  He took a breath.  “Alright.  Yes.  I requested a new posting aboard the _Agincourt_.”

Her fingers clenched in her hair.  “Why wouldn’t you tell me about something like that?”

“Nathaly, you have got to stop freaking out about this.”

Her frustration peaked.  “I don’t what this is!”

He sighed and took her arm.  They started walking towards Shepard’s cabin.

“Why won’t you answer me?” she demanded.

“Because I don’t want to do this out here.”  He held her hand up to the hatch access.

As it slid shut behind them, Shepard drew in a breath and asked, “Are you breaking up with me?”

“What?”  That actually shocked him.  “No.  God, no.”

“Then why…?”

“This is a mess.”  He ran his hand over his hair and composed himself.  “I wanted the opposite of that.  Nathaly… the things that have happened the last couple of months have been like a dream.  But I don’t want a dream.  I want this- us- to be real.”

She didn’t know what that meant either.  “We are real, Kaidan.”

“The feelings are real,” he emphasized.  “This relationship is make-believe.”

Shepard scoffed and turned away.  He persisted.  “I know you’re angry, and I can’t apologize enough for how you found out about this.  But you can’t have a relationship that’s made up of stolen shore leaves, and asking our colleagues to lie for us, and hiding from the navy.  That only works for so long.  One of us had to do something.”

“Do you know what I went through with Anderson to keep you here?”

He bit his lip.  “No, I didn’t.”

“If you had just told me-”

“I had this crazy idea that you’d wildly disagree and do everything in your power to sabotage it.”  He threw up his hands.  “I can’t imagine what made me worry about that.”

Shepard ran her hand over her face and paced a few steps, back and forth over the worn floor.  Then she put the seat cushion back on the couch, sat down, and crossed her legs.  “What’s your plan?”

He blinked at her, wary of the sudden calm.  She looked up at him steadily.  “Obviously you have one.  Tell me about it.”

“Okay.”  He sat beside her, a touch gingerly.  “Did you catch the name of the ship?”

“Let’s assume I was distracted.”

“I know _Normandy_ is nominally stationed at Arcturus, but… we never go there.  The _Agincourt_ is one of only three Alliance vessels assigned to the Citadel.  I thought, if we were both on ships that made port at the Citadel, maybe… maybe that could be home.  Maybe we’d have a chance at a real life.”

For the second time that night, she didn’t know what to say.  She felt lost.  “I want you here.” 

He touched her face.  “I don’t want to lose you.  But that’s what happens if we both stay here.  I feel like that almost happened already when we lost Ash.”

Shepard winced, involuntarily, but didn’t contest it.  Instead, she folded her hand around his and leaned her head in until their foreheads were touching, utterly deflated.  “There can’t be another Virmire.”

“No.”  His hand brushed her cheek, carefully, gently.

“I like having you with me,” she insisted, knowing she was whining, knowing her argument had no logical basis.

“We’ll still see each other.  The _Agincourt’s_ tours average three months.  That’s pretty short.  It’s another reason I picked it.”

Her arms wound about his waist.  Her throat felt thick.  “Well,” she said, “I suppose we’ll need a place to stay.”

The words flowed out naturally, and it wasn’t until they were spoken that she realized what she’d said.  She started, her eyes flicking to his, suddenly anxious- but she only licked her lips and didn’t take it back.

Kaidan stared at her a long moment.  Then he chuckled.  “I guess so.”

She kissed him, and then she kissed his cheek, and then she pulled him down onto her, snuggling into the couch.  He settled into her shoulder.  Shepard tucked her arm behind his head.  “Did you really say fuck?”

“I do know all the words,” he protested, going slightly pink.  “I just… choose not to use the worst ones.”

“Right.”

He pulled her in closer.  “Shut up.”

“You’re still my subordinate for another two weeks.”

“Sorry.  Shut up, ma’am.”

She rested her cheek in his hair.  “That’s better.”


	58. 9:56

The _Normandy_ VI sent a soft chime through the skipper’s quarters.  “The time is now 0430.”

Shepard stared into the dark until the VI began to turn up the lights, and started to climb out of bed.

Alenko turned over into the space she left behind and pulled her back down onto the sheets, burrowing into her neck.  “It’s not even done being night yet.”

“It is for me.”  But she squirmed down until they were face to face, and kissed his forehead.  “Besides, you’re not supposed to be in here, remember?”

“We’ve got one day left before we finish scanning the Amada System and high-tail it back to the Citadel.”  They’d burned most of the first week before Alenko was due aboard the _Agincourt_ finishing their scans in this sector.  It would take the second to complete their journey home.  “I don’t think anyone on this ship cares what we do right now.”

Shepard kissed him again, on the mouth this time.  “It’s about the look of the thing.”

“You don’t care about the look of the thing.”

It was true.  She didn’t care.  He’d stayed here nearly every night since announcing his transfer to the _Agincourt_.  It wasn’t about the sex- though there had been plenty of that, and while she’d always been a fan of intimate activity, she continued to be struck by how much fun they had.  They’d talk and giggle like kids and try things just for the hell of it- like sex was merely another aspect of their relationship, a shared interest or hobby, rather than a primary motivating factor.  She’d never had that before.

No, it was about this.  Small moments very early in the morning and not wanting to get out of bed because they were such good moments.  She felt like a dam had ruptured inside her, and every time she looked at him she overflowed.  Her hand cupped his cheek, her thumb grazing his lips, her eyes searching his.  “I’m going to miss you.”

“I hope so.  I mean, I was kind of banking on it.”

She yanked the pillow out from under his head and hit him with it.  He threw up his arms, attempting to block her and laughing.

“It is now 0435,” the VI announced.

Shepard groaned and sat up on the edge of the bed.  Alenko snagged her wrist.  “Stay.  Just a little longer.”

She slid her hand up into his and gave it a squeeze.  “I need to relieve Pressly in the CIC.”  They were trading off, monitoring the geth recon efforts and the situation at large.  This deep into the Terminus nobody wanted to be caught off-guard.

Rising, Shepard went to the cupboard built into the wall and began pulling out clothing.  Alenko folded his arm under his head and lay back, watching her dress with a soft and gentle expression that melted her down.  “I’m going to miss you, too.”

Before she could get soppy- she never got soppy, but he seemed to have that effect on her, from time to time- Shepard roughly cleared her throat and changed the subject.  “I’ve been having second thoughts about the apartment.  Maybe we should’ve looked around more.”

“Too late.  We signed the lease.”  In the modern era, there was very little that couldn’t be done remotely over the extranet, especially on the Citadel.

“It’s bigger than we need.”

“But it’s got a bathtub,” he reminded, with the finality of a man playing a trump card.

She slipped the shirt over her head.  “Oh.  Right.”

Alenko chuckled.  “You are way too easy to bribe.”

His clothes were wadded at the foot of the bed.  She picked them up and chucked them at him.  “Get on your feet and come help me pretend to fight geth.”

He grumbled, but sat up and rubbed his eyes, surrendering to the onslaught of morning.  Shepard made for the head. 

Very few crew were awake at this hour and she had the facilities mostly to herself.  She claimed a towel and turned on the shower.  As she massaged the hot water through her hair, the hatch opened, revealing Liara.  Shepard blinked.  “Hey.”

“Good morning.”  Liara went to the sinks and set down her bag of toiletries. 

Shepard raised an eyebrow.  “What’s got you roaming the ship before dawn?”

“At FTL speeds, without achieving an orbit, there is no such thing as dawn.”  Liara located her toothbrush.  “I am a bit restless.”

“Something particular on your mind?”  Shepard pressed the shampoo dispenser.

She pursed her lips.  “Sovereign had no back-up plan.”

“Reapers are arrogant.  You heard Sovereign on Virmire.”

“Arrogant, yes, but they’ve been pursuing the destruction of organic civilizations for millions, perhaps even billions of years.  I do not believe they are foolish.” 

Shepard paused, and folded her arms over the shower’s modesty panel.  “You think we just haven’t seen their Plan B yet.”

“That is what I fear, yes.”

She thought about it.  The notion sounded rather too much like sense.  The satisfaction that warmed her ever since Sovereign came raining down cooled several degrees.  She resumed washing and muttered, “I guess the victory has us all a little blind.”

Liara turned towards her, blue eyes wide and earnest.  “We can’t afford to make that manner of mistake.”

“You don’t have to tell me.  We need to do whatever it takes.”  Shepard shook her head.  “I’m meeting with the intel gremlins while we’re in port this week.  I’ll mention it to them, see if they can get some people on it.”

“Thank you.  That would help put my mind at ease.”

Shepard glanced at the ceiling and addressed the VI.  “Where is Navigator Pressly?”

“Navigator Pressly is currently on the bridge, Commander.”

“Put me in the bridge.”

“Yes, Commander.”  There was a pause as the VI announced the communications broadcast.

“Good morning, Commander.”  Pressly sounded fatigued, but maintained a cordial note as befit addressing a superior officer.  Amada System had proven an intensely boring run.   No evidence of geth, or anything else for that matter.  They were all sick of it. 

“Disengaging FTL drives.  Emission sinks active.”  Joker was beyond bored, as the VI continued to broadcast the conversation from the bridge.  Shepard rinsed off and reached for her towel. 

His voice became teasing.  “Sleep well, Commander?”

“As you were, Lieutenant Moreau,” Pressly cut in sharply.

“Yeah, yeah.”  A few more seconds passed as the pilot performed his checks.  “Board is green.  We are running silent.”

Pressly spoke slowly, as though reading off a screen.  “Altitude 208 kilometers, in stable orbit above Alchera.  Nicely done, Flight Lieutenant.”

“Can’t let these skills get rusty,” he joked.  There was general laughter.  After twelve hours of scans, anything was funny.

“This is the last one?” Shepard asked, beginning to pin up her hair.  “The last planet, I mean.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Pressly sighed.  “We’re wasting our time.  Four days searching up and down this sector, and we haven’t found any sign of geth activity.”

Joker disagreed.  “Three ships went missing here in the past month.  Something happened to them.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time navy intel scrambled their sources.”  Shepard didn’t temper her contempt.  “Wouldn’t be the first time they couldn’t find a ship with both hands and a flashlight, either- and that’s back in human space.”

Normally Pressly would object, having more patience for the slow and careful work of Alliance analysts, but evidently the unproductive days were getting under his skin as well.  “My money’s on slavers.  The Terminus is crawling with them.”

Joker snorted.  “No sign of any of them, either.”

“Picking up something on the long-range scanner,” the co-pilot interrupted, a frown in her voice.

The hair rose on Shepard’s neck.  She’d never know how she knew- there was a haunting familiarity about it, this unnamed dread in the pit of her stomach, spreading like a plague, an amalgamation of eleven years’ instinct that propelled her past Liara and out the hatch.  Liara gave her a confused glance. 

“Looks like a cruiser,” the co-pilot continued.  She sounded puzzled, concerned but not yet alarmed. 

Joker took a look.  “Doesn’t match any known signatures.”

Shepard was in the hall, moving quickly towards her cabin, drawing strange looks from the few crew gathered for an early breakfast in the mess.  She was half-dressed at best. 

The co-pilot spoke again, the VI tracking Shepard’s movements through the ship.  “Cruiser is changing course.  Now on intercept trajectory.”

Shepard broke into a run.

“Can’t be,” Pressly said.  “Stealth systems are engaged.  There’s no way a geth ship could-“

“It’s not the geth,” Joker interrupted, a sudden edge to his voice.

Shepard slammed through her hatch and bolted to the closet where she kept her hard suit. 

“Brace for evasive maneuvers!” Joker yelled.

Through her port, Shepard saw the stars reel and jerk in a way that made her grateful for the momentum dampeners.  She yanked on the suit, not bothering with the protective undergarments that came between flesh and elastomeric outer shell.  Her underwear would have to do.  She had a bad feeling that before the day was out, chafed skin would be the least of her concerns.

The hardsuit’s shields couldn’t face off against a ship’s battery.  But the suit would protect her from extreme environments, and more importantly provide oxygen should the ship decompress.  It was the first rule of emergency situations- take care of yourself.  She couldn’t help anyone if she was dead.

The first attack hit, and hit hard- a direct strike to the bridge.  The ship spun sideways.

The co-pilot screamed.  “Pressly!”

Shepard heard her cry out a second time, wordlessly, followed by silence.  No time to worry about it.  She gauged the severity of the attack with a quick look out the port.  The battery was directly under the bridge.  If those munitions blew-

Snagging her helmet, she ran for the guns.

Joker continued a steady stream of status updates, almost as much to keep his own rising panic in check as to inform the crew.  “Kinetic barriers down!  Multiple hull breaches!  Weapons offline!”  A pause.  “Somebody get that fire out!”

Deck 2 was completely inflamed.  Her crew was in chaos.  Shepard waded through those still climbing out of the hot bunks, desperate to get their bearings.  She took one glance at the extent of the blaze, already so large it cast an unholy orange light over every surface, at the smoke beginning to choke the air, and the solid wall of heat beating against her face, and started shouting the only orders that made sense.

“Get to the escape shuttles!”  They looked at her in confusion.  Shepard shoved the nearest, forcing him to stagger towards the stairs.  “Go!”

She stumbled towards the fore of the ship.  There were explosions in the hull, pops that shook the floor and blew out panels and wires in inelegant clumps.  The battery’s terminal was still online.  She realized she had a more pressing concern.

A second strike assaulted the ship, and then a third.  The inertial dampeners began to fail.  With every jolt, Shepard lost time.  It was becoming hard to breath.  She hit the final button and dragged her helmet over her head, sealing it to her neck and gasping as the fresh, cool O2 hit her thirsty lungs.  She activated her radio.  “Distress beacon launched.”

“Nathaly!”  The metal floor, epoxy coating peeling up in the intense heat, vibrated like a drum as someone pounded towards her.  She turned.  Alenko, fully suited up, just now sealing his own helmet.  “Do you think anyone will get here in time?”

Another explosion wracked their area.  Kaidan was knocked into the wall with a grunt of pain.

Shepard did not think help was likely to arrive.  This was the Terminus.  There was no Alliance presence, and even if the locals were inclined to help, Amada System was not inhabited.  And everything was happening fast.  She growled and grabbed a fire extinguisher.  “I’m not doing this so they can find our frozen corpses.  If we don’t put out this fire, the whole battery could go.”

He paled behind his mask and snagged another extinguisher.  It was hopeless.  The fire laughed in the face of such paltry tools. 

Over the radio, Joker gritted his teeth.  “Both starboard engines unresponsive.”

Alenko shook his head.  “Joker’s still on the bridge.  He won’t abandon ship.”

Shepard gave up the firefighting as a loss.  “Get everyone to the evac shuttles. I’ll haul Joker’s crippled ass out of here.”

“I’m not leaving either.”

She could have screamed.  “The hell you’re not!”

“There are dead people all over this ship,” he said with urgency.  “I’m not letting you stay with them.  I’ll leave when you leave.”

“Kaidan-” she said, desperate.

“You can’t save everyone.  But you’ll try.”  There wasn’t a shred of doubt in him.

Their eyes met and held for a single endless moment, hers stricken, his determined.

She almost fell over as the wall panel beside her tore loose from its frame.  The fire advanced into the battery.  She took an aggressive step towards him and shoved her faceplate up against his.  “Marine, get your ass to those goddamn shuttles and get our people out of here!  That is an order!”

He wasn’t expecting that.  He blinked, off-balance.  She took a deep breath and forced every ounce of command she possessed into her voice, stabbing her index finger down the hall, towards the shuttles and safety.  “Go.  Now!”

“…aye, aye,” he answered shakily, and ran off.  She stared after him for several long seconds, longer than she could afford, as the flames rose around her, her breath loud in her ears. 

Joker brought her back.  “Mayday, mayday, mayday!  This is _SSV Normandy_!”

Shepard slammed her fist down on the console one last time, sounding the evacuation alarm.  Every sprinkler on the ship was going off.  Screams and shouts came all around her as people navigated the fires, the explosions, and the ongoing attacks to try to reach the shuttles.

She took off towards the stairs.  The mess was barely recognizable through the smoke and tangles of debris.  Though muted by her helmet, she could still hear the hungry tongues of fire lap up the insulation, crackling and roaring through the walls.  Her ship was falling apart in front of her. 

Sweat ran down her back and pooled between her skin and the suit, itching like crazy.  She was forced to slow, shielding her eyes against the brightness of the inferno with her forearm.  She kept her sight fixed ahead.  It was the only way she could avoid stopping for those on the floor who were obviously beyond her aid.  The starboard stairwell was blocked; the ceiling had collapsed above it.  The port side was still clear.  She hurried up the steps.  Each bar of white light, once assisting crew members in avoiding a trip hazard, had turned blood red in the garish light.

The hatch at the top of the stairs opened onto nothing.  Air whistled out it, shoving her forward and peppering her with ashes and flaming dross.  The sound of the fire died along with the heat taxing the limits of her hardsuit as she stepped out and it shut behind her.  The calm, cold silence of the void enveloped her.

Her CIC was in ruins.  The roof was open to the stars, along with most of the starboard side.  The galaxy map was a snarl of torn struts and broken wire.  For a second, all she could do was stare.  A portion of the ship’s backbone drifted overhead in a stately arc, crossing the face of the planet Alchera, which hung like a frozen jewel in the indifferent sky.

Shepard took another step away from the hatch, and abruptly realized that gravity had failed on Deck 1.  Her mag boots clung firmly to the metal floor as she made her way deeper into the room. 

It was still early in the morning, but even at such odd hours, the CIC was always at least skeleton crewed.  Here, in the Terminus, they ran fully staffed every watch, on high alert in case of attack.  Nobody expected this kind of overwhelming force.  Not with the _Normandy’s_ stealth capabilities.  Not with what they knew about geth technology. 

Joker was right.  This couldn’t be the geth.

Most of the unfortunate crew must have been blasted out of the CIC along with the air during one of the initial attacks.  But remnants of their presences remained.  Photos taped to duty stations.  Handwritten notes floating in the cabin, torn loose.  The stillness after the chaos below was eerie; almost as if time had stopped when she stepped through the door.  Every object stood out starkly in the harsh white planetshine.  Even as she watched, a half-eaten piece of toast floated by her faceplate.

Something caught her eye at the aft end of the map, a blot of brown out of place amongst the gray metal.  Their attacker- whatever it was- seemed to have paused the assault, perhaps assessing the damage, perhaps assuming its work was done.  She moved closer to the anomaly.

The ship’s VI, remarkably, was still online.  “Escape Shuttles Six and Three are away.  Escape Shuttle Four is away.”

There were seven in all, including the one behind the bridge.  Shepard hoped with all her heart that Kaidan was aboard one of them. 

Her breathing was harsh and leaden in her ears, trapped within her helmet.  She pulled away a fallen wall panel, letting it drift off, and saw Bakari lying face down beneath it.

_He was my responsibility._ Her gloved hand brushed over his hair.  In the null gravity it waved about his head like a sea anemone, shaking with the ship.

Joker muttered into the radio, without any intention of being heard.  “Come on, baby, hold together.  Hold together!”

Shepard left Bakari as he was and turned towards the bridge.  It was slow going as she fought the tedious mag boots and the shuddering of her vessel.  The CIC narrowed into a hallway leading to their pilot.  Normally, their avionics and propulsion teams would have sat in the couches lining both sides.  Now, their seats lifted out of their places and crowded the walk.

“Shuttle Two is away.”

Numbly, she pushed them aside.  Ahead, the telltale blue shimmer of an emergency mass effect field separated the bridge from this wasteland.  She could just barely make out Joker’s blurred form still ensconced in the depths of the pilot’s couch, his hands flying over the controls.

Shepard passed through the field and felt the immediate return of gravitational control as well as sound.  Fire licked up the walls and consumed the ceiling.  Pressly lay across the width of the bridge with the ensign co-pilot fallen at his side.  She had to step over both of them to reach Joker.

He managed to snag an emergency mask.  The simple plastic frame hugged the perimeter of his face while the curve of a mass effect field held in enough air to prevent his lungs from being shredded in the event of rapid decompression.  He’d still have fewer than fourteen seconds to haul himself to safety before losing consciousness- a dicey proposition for someone with Joker’s physical limitations.

She grabbed his shoulder and shouted over the alarms.  “We have to get out of here!”

“No!”  He gritted his teeth and leaned towards the controls.  “I won’t abandon the _Normandy_!  I can still save her!”

Shepard glanced back at the CIC in disbelief.  “ _Normandy’s_ dead- just like us if we don’t get the hell out of here!”

“No!  We just have to- oh no.”  His eyes widened.  “They’re coming around for another attack!”

The enemy ship fired on them broadside.  A thin yellow beam, no more than the thickness of Shepard’s body, lanced down through the hall connecting them to the CIC, just outside the emergency field.  The light was staggering.  She could scarcely look at it.  The bones of the _Normandy_ groaned up through her boots as the fore and aft began to part ways.

Without further hesitation, she wedged her arm under Joker’s shoulders and heaved him out of the couch. 

He winced at this rough handling.  “Ah- watch the arm-“

Groaning, he allowed her to haul him towards the first and final escape pod.

“Shuttles Five and Seven are away,” the VI announced as Shepard tossed Joker inside with a grunt.  He was easy enough to manipulate in zero gee.  The shuttles were round, almost more like the capsules of early spaceflight than modern craft.  Their only purpose was to ferry crew as far as possible from the ailing ship and they were designed to do so by any means available.  Each held six jump seats.  Joker collapsed into one and lowered the harness.

The flames were close enough to scorch her suit.  She paused at the hatch, just the barest second.  Once she stepped past that threshold, it was over.  Nobody else would make out if indeed anyone else was left alive.  They would burn and suffocate here.

At that instant, with a last scream of rending metal, the aft portion of the ship tumbled away.  The ripple of shock through the remaining frame jarred Shepard loose and sent her flying into the hall, further propelled by the rush of escaping air as the emergency field containing the bridge atmosphere died.  A second yellow lance tore through the hallway, its plasma sheath boiling all around it, blocking her way back to the shuttle.  Drilling down into their munitions.

She caught herself on a wall, floating beside it.  Joker reached towards her.  “Commander!”

The haptic panel that would launch the last escape shuttle was in arm’s reach.  Shepard and Joker exchanged a long and cryptic glance.  Joker paled.  “Shepard!”

She tapped the button.  The hatch slammed down, cutting him off from view.  A second later the VI announced, “All escape shuttles launched.  Commencing shut-down procedures.”

Shepard spun gently in place, watching the beam chew through the floor.  _The battery_ , she thought again, absent-mindedly.

A second after instinct became conscious thought, the ship detonated.  Shepard slammed against the wall, along her spine up through the base of her skull, hard enough that her head rang with a single solid note of old remembered pain and she blacked out.

When she came to seconds later, she was much further away from the _Normandy_ , and the last of the rosy glow of a titanic explosion was fading into dark as the final ounce of oxygen was consumed.  The sad and broken remnants of her ship drifted ever further apart.  Around her, smaller bits of debris sparkled in the Alchera sunrise.  She could do nothing but stare and gasp, trying to get her bearings, trying to pull together some semblance of what to do next. 

And that was when she noticed that no matter how she opened her lungs, she couldn’t draw a full breath.  And that her own outward drift was being slowly arrested by some other force.

Her hand scrabbled at the nape of her neck, just as far as her fingertips could stretch, and felt the faint pressure of escaping air.

Up until this point, despite the horror of the wreck, the immediate threat of death by fire, and fear for her friends, Shepard had not panicked.  She was trained not to panic.  But Alliance suits were not pressurized.  There was the air in her helmet, and an equal amount in the recirculation unit mounted to her back.  Such a parsimonious supply could vent in seconds.

Her heart sped almost to bursting, her blood galloping through her veins.  She flailed wildly, arcing her body, grasping vainly for her upper back with hands that could not quite reach, arms that could not quite bend far enough, trying to stop up the tears with her fingers.  Her lungs pumped hysterically as they tried to stow as much of the thin stuff as they could.  Her legs jerked with each desperate flail.

Shepard inhaled the last wisp of air and held her breath.  The sunlight was behind her and she could see each of the stars etched crisp and cold against the velvet night.  Her throat ached.  Her body screamed with the need for oxygen.  Her brain chased itself in circles- _breathe breathe breathe-_

Her eyes darted, searching for something, anything, she could use to propel herself towards the ship, towards some hope of a stash of air.  They found only dust, sparkling in the sunshine.

She kicked her legs, but she only turned in place, a prisoner of microgravity. 

Her lungs burned in the absolute silence of space.

When she could no longer deny their need, her mouth opened and took great gulping soundless gasps of nothing until her cheeks stretched thinly over her bones like a goldfish left out on land.   Her diaphragm spasmed fruitlessly, her windpipe contracting and wheezing though there was no air to make the smallest whisper.

And then the fog began to fall, with aching slowness, as one by one her brain denied oxygen to less essential systems, parceling out what little remained in her blood with ruthless efficiency.  Like veils dropping over her body, each sheer layer adding its own weight.  Shepard grew still.  Her limbs were no longer hers to command.  She could only hang helpless in the deep while the funeral cloths were draped upon her. 

She realized she never expected to die.

Black crowded the edges of her vision.  She refused to close her eyes; refused to deny them that one final look at the stars.  Shepard stared without seeing. 

Kaidan said it was a dream.   Only a dream.

_It was only my dream_.  Shepard wasn’t sure if she meant their love, or her stupid hope that it could have ended any other way than this, in violence and pain.  The thought was sluggish and sleepy and ached like old bruises.  _It was only my dream, Kaidan.  I’m so sorry I dragged you into it._

The last of the stars went out.  Her muscles relaxed like climbing into bed at the end of a long day.  There was nothing left.  _I’m sorry_ , she thought again, though she could no longer remember for what.  She was so tired…

His hand brushed her face in the dim light of her cabin.  _I love you._

Her cheek nuzzled against his palm.

Calm took her just before oblivion.  With slackened limbs and empty eyes, the body of Nathaly Shepard tumbled away from the ship into the cold Alchera dawn.

/\/\/\/\/\

The evacuation alarm sounded through the ship.  Kaidan’s boots thudded along the passageway and skidded to a stop in front of the terminal, hard-wired into the mechanisms, which would raise a pair of panels on _Normandy’s_ hull and reveal the escape shuttles.  He had to reach his gloved hand through the fire climbing up the wall to key in the officer’s code and verify the action. 

There was just enough time to wonder whether the panel would respond, or if the _Normandy_ was too damaged.

But with the grinding of titanic gears, and a long squeal of overheated metal that had expanded past its design tolerance, the ship exposed the shuttles, inside and out.  He hauled open the nearest hatch and began shoveling people inside. 

A fair number of the crew had already gathered at the rendezvous point and they wasted no time climbing aboard.  The first three shuttles were away within thirty seconds of activation.  In this situation, it was likely the VI had sent them down the planet’s surface.  Alchera wasn’t anything like hospitable but they’d have more room to make use of the emergency gear.  And they’d be together, instead of drifting in seven different islands, vulnerable to open space.

The last four people waiting clamored into the fourth shuttle.  Alenko bit his lip and debated whether to hold it, pending more survivors.  It was a hard call.  If he waited too long they could be caught in a fresh attack, or the growing fire could damage the launch systems.  Too soon, and they might run out of seats.

He’d passed enough bodies along the way to know two seats wasn’t going to matter.  He sent them on their way.  Liara remained.  She seemed to be waiting for something.

“You need to go,” he said.

“Soon,” she replied, without elaboration.  Sweat beaded her forehead behind the face mask.  “Where is Shepard?”

“She went to evacuate the bridge.  Sounds like Pressly’s down for the count.  Joker needs assistance.”

Liara nodded.  For all the chaos, she seemed very calm- albeit the kind of frozen calm that came only in a crisis and exacted a heavy toll afterwards.  Two stragglers arrived.  Khaledi, hauling Private Addison Chase, who was clutching her stomach and groaning.  Her hand covered a bloody gash.  Neither woman had managed to find her hardsuit.  Alenko waved them in and launched the shuttle, and tried not to worry about it.

Two shuttles remained on this deck.  The last was upstairs, intended to evacuate the bridge.  Joker’s stubbornness aside often the pilots were the last ones out.  Somebody had to stay with the ship.  That would be the one Nathaly took as well, if she managed to reach them.

Alenko tried not to worry about that either.

The elevator opened.  He was shocked it still worked.  The engineering group ran out, smaller than he’d like.  Adams caught his eye and shook his head before diving into a shuttle.  Things had been bad on Deck 3.  The fifth shuttle launched.

The fire was almost impenetrable.  The entire ship groaned as though it could come to pieces at any moment.  Upstairs, they could hear the whine of a plasma arc shearing through the metal.  Alenko waved the last few people through.  “Everyone in!  Go, go, go!”

A young woman rounded the corner and screamed as explosion caught her.  She twisted and fell heavily to the floor, sightless eyes gazing at an escape that would never be realized.  Liara followed the last of the engineers.  Alenko jumped through the hatch and secured it.

They scrambled to their seats and jammed the harnesses down.  Alenko hit the launch.  The shuttle rocketed out of its berth with the force of a bullet.  Its momentum dampeners were cheap, minimum grade, genuine survival gear- just enough to keep the squishy organic cargo from turning into paste.  The shuttle rattled so hard he thought his teeth might crack.  He settled for clenching his mouth shut and clinging to his harness with both hands.

They were still tied to _Normandy’s_ VI.  “All escape shuttles launched.  Commencing shut-down procedures.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and tilted his head back against the seat.  There was no way Joker got out on his own, not through those kinds of hazards.  She was off the ship.

A small terminal screen affixed above the hatch showed telemetry data- the trajectories of the seven shuttles, the position of the _Normandy_ and the enemy ship, shipboard clocks of various kinds, most controlled by the ship VI.  He watched the numbers tick by.  Then, without warning, half of them froze.

“Shit!”  His hands tightened on the harness.  “Brace for impact-“

The expanding explosion kicked their little craft and sent it spinning.  Alarms rang through the cabin.  They were headed for Alchera on a descent trajectory.  If they hit the atmosphere like this, odds were good that mass effect shields or no, they’d burn up falling to the ground.

The dampeners couldn’t keep up with the centripetal force pinning them to their couches.  Alenko could barely raise his arm.  His fingers flailed just shy of the controls.  “Liara!”

“What?”  Her voice was calm, but her eyes darted left and right, her breath shallow.

“Stabilizing procedures,” he gasped.  “You’re closer.”

She glanced between him and the terminal.

“Cue them up,” he pleaded, too disoriented to be more coherent.  One of the engineers seated further back had her eyes squeezed shut, tear tracks winding wet paths down her soot-streaked face.

After a second- the longest second of his life- Liara got it, and reached up towards the computer.  A few moments later, the thrusters fired and arrested the spin.  It came not a moment too soon. 

Re-entry hit them like a train.  The single, lonely port, with glass so thick it was almost cloudy, filled with orange plasma.  It felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest.  Across from him, Liara groaned. 

“Hold on,” he said, gritting his teeth.  “Just hold on-“

The terminal gave their altitude as a hundred kilometers and falling.  He hoped there was land beneath them, and not some kind of methane sea. 

At fifty kilometers, the screen began to flash red.  Nobody said a word.  Alenko closed his eyes. 

At ten kilometers, their retrorockets fired.  The system was similar to the one built into the Mako.  He imagined the Mako was little more than slag now.  It slowed them enough that by the time they hit the ground, they weren’t buried so deeply in snow and ice that it became a living tomb.  They still got a port full of white. 

The four passengers sat there for several long minutes, taking deep breaths, trying to regroup.  Alenko glanced again at the terminal. 

Time since the attack began had frozen at nine minutes, fifty-six seconds.  It felt like hours, and it felt like moments.

The terminal output switched to a summary of surface conditions.  They’d landed near the equator on the day side of the planet.  The external temperature was a frigid -26 C, far better than he’d anticipated.  It was cold, but it was survivable.  While the atmosphere was not breathable, the pressure was close enough to standard that they wouldn’t need to worry about explosive decompression or moving survivors without hardsuits through vacuum.  Preliminary scans had revealed water ice nearby.  That could be useful, given how long it might take for the Alliance to organize any kind of rescue.  Short of a garden world they couldn’t ask to crash land in a better place.

The screen also displayed the probable landing sites of the six other shuttles.  Alenko took one last steadying breath and struggled free of his harness.  There was a large amount of emergency gear tacked to the ceiling and stowed beneath the floor panels, an attempt to equip a group of Alliance survivors for any situation.  He started pulling down oxygen masks and winter gear.  “Suit up.  We need to crack the hatch and rendezvous with the other teams.”

Sunlight without any warmth filled the cabin as they made their way outside.  Gravity on Alchera was somewhat less than one gee.  It helped as they climbed out of the hole their shuttle dug and stood up on the ice.  It was cracked and filthy, a mixture of frozen water and CO2 laced with trace elements.  Scanning the horizon, he could make out the nearest team similarly milling about their craft.

He tried his radio.  “This is Alenko at Shuttle Five.  Do you read?”

There was a long pause.  Then the radio crackled in his ear.  “Copy that, Shuttle Five.  This is Adams at Shuttle Seven.”

“Status?” he asked, starting to walk towards the distant figures.

“We’re in one piece.”  Adams coughed.  “I think I can make out Shuttle Six from here.”

Another voice.  “This is Dr. Chakwas reporting in from Shuttle Four.  Standing by for casualties, over.”

“We need to get the tents set up.  I know Chase is in a bad way.”

“My team is on it,” Adams said.  “Recommend a site?”

“Stable and centralized.” 

Alenko realized then that he’d yet to hear Nathaly.  Something twinged in his gut.  He pushed it aside.  Shuttle One was the furthest out, and their radio could have been busted on impact.  It wasn’t uncommon.  “Doctor, get a roster of who’s left and whatever assistance you need to set up a med tent.”

“Read and understood,” Chakwas said, all business.

He should stay and oversee making camp.  She’d probably stroll up soon enough.  But the need to be certain overrode his common sense.  “I’m going after Shuttle One.  They landed outside the perimeter and may require assistance.”

“Copy that.  Adams out.”

Alenko glanced at their two passengers, both from engineering, both bundled in parkas and breather masks, both badly shaken by the crash.  “Go assist Engineer Adams.  You’ll need to be in the warm soon.”

They saluted and trudged off, hands tucked into their armpits.  Alenko turned to Liara, a question in his glance.

Hers was pure determination.  “I’ll walk with you.”

They clomped along together in silence, the crusty snow crunching beneath their boots.  Liara’s thoughts were shadows drifting over her face.  Alenko concentrated on the hiss and return of his ventilator, the cadence of his steps, the texture of the clouds and wondering whether it would storm- because the thing about Liara was, while she had little training or experience beyond what she’d picked up the past six months, her instincts were spot-on.  And Liara wasn’t a saying a word.

_This is superstitious nonsense_ , he told himself sternly.  They would get the shuttle and find Nathaly cursing the radio until she was blue in the face and Joker more than ready to be out of her immediate proximity.  The shuttle would’ve never launched otherwise.  He was already wondering how they were going to get Joker back across this frozen wasteland to the tents.  Take turns carrying him, maybe.  Or at least supporting him as he hobbled along.

They reached the shuttle.  It was less buried than the others, lying half-covered in a snow bank at the end of a long skid across the ice.  Liara drew to a stop and wrapped her arms about her waist.  Alenko licked his lips and banged on the hatch.  He waited ten seconds or so, but nerves frayed his patience and he started banging on it again.

Halfway through the second round he heard the sound of bolts sliding away.  Alenko helped haul the hatch open.  It swung out and down with a crash of metal.  He peered into the dim.

Joker’s drawn face squinted up at him.  Alenko’s eyes swept the rest of the interior.  The lights flickered over the empty seats.  Alenko shook his head as if to clear it.  “What?”

Joker watched with growing trepidation.  He hadn’t thought it would be Alenko who found him.  He wasn’t prepared.

Alenko turned to him, lost.  “I don’t understand.”

The pilot took a breath and started to speak.  Every phrase could have been a knife, and there was no way to say it that was any softer.   Alenko tried to follow, but it was like listening to words in another language, alien and incomprehensible.  The facts refused to line up in any meaningful way.  Like nothing would ever make sense again.

Nathaly was on the shuttle.  Nathaly _had_ to be on the shuttle.  But she wasn’t.

Liara listened over Alenko’s shoulder, her hand at her mouth.  As Joker finally trailed off, she reached for the lieutenant.  “Kaidan-”

He shoved her away.  He stalked off a few paces and sat down on a clump of snow, his back to them and knees drawn up to his chin.  The cold came up through his hardsuit.  He welcomed it.  It matched the numbness that had taken root in his core.

“I’m sorry,” Joker burst out, the words torn away.  “I should have left when she got there.  I should have-”

With deliberation, Alenko cued up his omni-tool, shut off his radio, and sat in the snow, still as a stone.


	59. For Everything

Kaidan stared out across the frigid wastes.  The wind was picking up ahead of a storm; he could see the clouds gathering.  It snatched up the muttering behind him- bits of Liara’s worry and Joker’s sarcastic helplessness- and tossed them at his ears.  The words were well muffled by their assorted headgear, too much so to make out any meaning.  But the tone carried.

He realized he couldn’t say how long he’d been sitting here.  His fingers felt frozen about his knees. 

Boots crunched down on the old crusty snow layered over the ice.  Liara laid a tentative hand on his shoulder.  “Kaidan?”

Even with the helmet, there was a heavy weight of water in her voice that he couldn’t echo.  He felt deadened from the soul out.

“Engineer Adams wants to know what is taking so long.”  She waited several long moments.  Her voice caught.  “Please say something.”

He tilted his head back until he could scan the whole of the sky.  There wasn’t a trace of the _Normandy_.  Just cold morning light and angry clouds.

Liara scooted around until he was forced to look at her.  “I’m not giving up.  Don’t you dare even think about it.”

Alenko stared back, dully.  She pursed her lips.  “Kaidan, _think_.  Joker said the final attack blew Shepard clear of the hatch.  She could have escaped the worst of the explosion.”

He ran his hand over his faceplate.  “There’s no possibility-“

“There’s always a chance,” she said firmly.  “All that is certain is that this isn’t over yet.  How long can someone survive in a hardsuit?”

He wanted to tell her to go away, return to Adams and leave him in the snow, but his traitorous brain coughed up the answer.  “A little over seven days.  Eight and a half is the record.”

“Seven days,” Liara said.  “Think of all that can happen in seven days.”

She brimmed with encouragement.  Alenko looked away. 

Her eyes searched him.  “Is it not worth any hope?”

_Nathaly screaming into his face, as the flames encroached all around them.  “Get your ass to those goddamn shuttles!”_

Were those the last words they’d ever say to each other?  Her hurling profanities at him because he refused a direct order?  That?  Really?

Liara switched tactics.  “I can’t get Joker back to the camp without help.  There are six other shuttles of frightened and disorganized survivors waiting for us.”

Nathaly ordered him to get everyone onto the shuttles.  He wondered if even half had made it.  But it was the last thing she’d asked him to do- take care of the crew- and he was damned he was going to start letting her down now. 

That trickle of thought gave him just enough purpose to move.  He activated his omni-tool and set an alarm for 168 hours.  The gesture felt both foolish and empty, but it got him to his feet.  Then, with a fair amount of creaking as his cold-stricken joints regained mobility, he walked back towards Joker.

The pilot remained ensconced within the protective confines of the evac shuttle.  Despite the mass effect field stretched across the hatch, preventing air exchange with the atmosphere, Joker was beginning to shiver- and trying hard to ignore it. 

Alenko kept his radio off.  He had no idea what to say to Adams, or anyone else.  Whenever he reached for the words to describe what was happening, even to himself, he came up empty.  Instead, he simply raised his voice so Joker could hear him through his helmet.  “There’s a bunch of cold weather gear stored under the floor panels, and proper breather masks over the jump seats.  Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Every syllable pushed out of his mouth like molasses, thick and heavy and clinging to the roof.  But they were steady enough.  Joker seemed relieved to not need to press him.  He groaned and reached overhead for the masks.  “Aye to that.”

Together, they got Joker outfitted while Liara radioed the makeshift camp, letting them know they were on their way.  Alenko retrieved what supplies he could carry- a tent folded flat, some blankets, emergency rations- and loaded them into a pack, which he strapped to his back before hauling Joker out of the shuttle.  The three of them began picking their slow way back to base.

Adams had been busy.  Alenko counted eight of the sleeper tents that came with the emergency gear, as well as a pair of larger tents erected by adjoining the smaller units.  The tents could be configured in several different ways to suit all circumstances.  Dr. Chakwas stood outside one, directing the flow of traffic, while Adams ordered several of the crew to begin sorting through the pile of equipment retrieved from the nearest shuttles.  The crew seemed relieved to have something concrete to do.

Adams looked up as Alenko approached.  Liara steered Joker towards the larger tents.  His braced legs had not acclimated well to the uncertain terrain, and they had to take turns assisting him as they made their way to camp.  Adams glanced from the pair to the Alenko, his brow creased.  “Where is-“

“This is it,” Alenko said, so harsh that the sentence scratched at his throat.  “I need a status report.”

Adams absorbed that for a moment, but accepted the situation at face value- or at least decided not to ask questions.  The breather mask distorted his voice.  “Right.  All shuttles except for Shuttle Three have reported in.  Surviving crew is rounding up supplies and making camp.  I’ve got my remaining engineers assembling the transmitter so we can start sending out a distress call.”

_Nathaly launched a distress beacon at the start of the attack._ He opened his mouth to say so, but instead asked, “And Shuttle Three?”

Adams shook his head.  “I sent a small team to their projected location, but they haven’t found anything yet.  There’s no visual trace of them, and nothing on any of the emergency frequencies.”

“Keep looking.  They’re out there somewhere.”  He glanced around the camp.  “Survivors?”

“Ask Karin.  She’s assembling a list.”

It took Alenko a moment to realize he meant the doctor.  “Right.  Carry on.”

Adams nodded and returned to his work.  Alenko plodded towards the make-do medical tent.  It was harder to walk than he remembered- his boots felt like two clubs attached to his legs.  The horizon of this planet seemed to go on forever.  They’d landed in a flat ice plain, and the dome of the sky swallowed up the land with an aching, empty vastness.  Even Alchera’s sun, Amada, so much further from here than the sun of Earth, seemed lonesome.  But he forced himself to keep putting one foot after the other and eventually he was there. 

“Lieutenant,” Chakwas said, turning towards him.

He managed to nod.  It felt like reciting off a script.  “I need the list of survivors.”

“It’s still incomplete.”  She handed him a datapad.  “Will the commander be joining us…?”

_The hatch swung open on five empty seats and Joker’s anxious face._

He kept his attention fixed on her list, ignoring the question entirely.  “Injuries?”

“A few.  Some worse than others,” she answered after a pause, and folded her arms.  “I’ve commandeered Private Khaledi to assist with medical treatment.  I hope you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine.”  He handed the datapad back.  “You’ve got top priority right now.  What else do you need?”

Chakwas’ eyes were shadowed beneath the hood of her parka, pulled low over her forehead against the encroaching cold.  “Hard to say.  I don’t have suitable equipment to operate.  I’ve got four criticals.  Corporal Martin should pull through, and Private Chase could go either way.  I’m afraid Servicemen Pakti and Tanaka’s injuries are rather more severe.  I don’t expect they’ll last more than a few more days without proper aid.”

“If we were rescued?”

“Any Alliance ship, frigate or larger, should have a suitable facility for treatment.”  Her tone betrayed her skepticism that any navy ship was likely to find them quickly, isolated as they were in the Terminus.  “At least it should be peaceful, and relatively painless.”

“I’m sorry.”  He wasn’t sure what else to say; wasn’t sure what else he could have done, in the chaos of the attack.  Everything today felt like his fault.

She shrugged, not uncaringly, but with philosophical acceptance of their situation.  “All in all, it could have been much worse.”

“Yeah.”  He hunched his shoulders.

Chakwas called after him as he began to walk away.  “Kaidan.”

He glanced back at her.  Behind the breather mask, her face was drawn with a sincere grief.  “I’m so very sorry.”

Her sympathy bored a tiny hole through his icy calm, threatening to crack it clear through.  He summoned another nod by dint of pure will and retreated as quickly as he could.

_Take care of the crew._   He surveyed the camp.  As he’d suspected, Pressly’s name was not on Chakwas’ list.  That left him as the highest-ranking officer still alive.  He had to focus on what they needed to survive or they wouldn’t make it out of here.  Nothing else mattered- or put another way, everything else would have to wait.

Alenko repeated that to himself a couple of times, until whatever emotion the doctor threatened to tap was thoroughly locked down.  Then he took a deep breath and tried to think through the muck clogging his brain.  _Shelter.  We’ve got tents.  I’m not going to assign people, not at a time like this- though we should have a roll call before bed to make sure nobody got lost.  And make sure the emergency beacon is up and running._

He stole another glance at the horizon.  The storm would be bearing down on them within the hour.  They had to get their supplies inside before it hit.  And take a headcount.  And set up some kind of perimeter so people couldn’t accidentally wander off…  His uncle lived on a farm in the interior, and holidays there had given Alenko some notion of how bad a winter storm could get.

He was forced to resume radio contact to relay the orders.  Adams, out at one of the shuttles now, paused before responding.  “I don’t disagree, but I’ll have to recall the search party.  It could be awhile before we can send them out again.”

“Damn it.”  He’d almost forgotten about Shuttle Three.  His mind couldn’t seem to hold onto any recent information.  It was like clawing through stone just to think clearly for a minute at a time.  “Alright.  We need to get everyone into shelter.  If the crew at the missing shuttle has any sense, they’ll stay put until the storm abates.”

On top of everything else, it was too much to state out loud that any more of the crew could be dead- were probably dead.  He struggled to remember who boarded Shuttle Three.  Those last minutes aboard ship were a jumbled mess.  However, it went without saying that the safety of known survivors outweighed that of people who had only a chance of still being alive.  Adams concurred.  “Yes, sir.  We’ll get the camp locked down.”

“Alenko out.”  He went in search of some rope.

Working quickly over the next thirty minutes, the crew got the food and other supplies stored within the larger tents, and double-checked that all of the shelters were firmly tied to the ice.  They used the extra ropes he found to circle the camp and tie guidelines from each sleeper tent to the main areas.  That way, if the storm got really bad, anyone who needed to leave wouldn’t wander off into the white.  Alenko welcomed the work.  He was anxious about what would happen when he ran out of things to do.  Nathaly’s conspicuous absence was a constant shadow in his mind, looming as large and ominous as the imminent storm. 

She’d be shouting, and somehow everywhere all at once, getting them settled in.  Nobody would be happy but everyone would feel like the worst was over.  Alenko felt like the worst was just beginning.

He busied two of the servicemen with organizing some kind of lunch, though nobody had much appetite.  Most of the crew was still in shock over the events of that morning.  It was difficult to avoid noticing the holes left by those who had not made it off the ship.  There was very little chatter as they went about their tasks.  Orders were issued with minimal fuss, carried out in silence, and afterwards people mostly waited, clustered in small groups, hardly exchanging a word.

At noon by the ship’s clock, still early local morning, the star Amada had all but disappeared behind the encroaching cloudbank.  Snow was just beginning to fall as Alenko made his way to the informal mess tent.  The interior was pressurized.  It felt nice to get out of his helmet, and the heater had kicked into high gear.  Somebody handed him a boiled plastic pack filled with what smelled like chicken curry with rice.  They had plenty of water, at least, given all the ice outside. 

Alenko opened the pouch and stared at the contents without much interest. 

A member of the crew detached herself from the current meal group- the tent was nowhere near large enough to fit them all at once- and wormed her way over to him.  “Sir?”

He recognized her as Talitha Draven, from engineering.  “Ensign.  What do you need?”

She laced her hands behind her back and swallowed.  “Sir, I was hoping you could tell me… was Roz on the last shuttle?  Three, I mean.”

It took him a moment longer than it should have to realize she was asking about her wife, Rosamund.  Her face was pinched and pale.  He licked his lips and spoke slowly, straining to recall.  _The marines were asleep.  They ran down from the hot bunks and were waiting when I got there.  I shoveled them into a shuttle…_ Everything happened so fast.  “I… think so.  Yes.”

Her cheeks flushed with relief.  She sucked in a breath.  “When are we resuming the search?”

“As soon as the storm passes,” he promised.

Talitha lifted her chin.  “I want to join the search team.”

Common sense said that as one of the few remaining engineers, she was needed here, helping with the equipment, but his heart reminded him that he’d run for Nathaly’s shuttle at the first possible opportunity.  It would be sheer hypocrisy to expect her to do any different.  “Of course.”

Draven nodded, and left him to his food.  He dug his fork in half-heartedly.  _I doubt there are any vegetarian meals in the emergency rations.  She’d probably pick around the chicken and just eat all the rice, and be starving again in an hour._

The thought was unbidden and almost casual, and stung all the more for it. Suddenly, nothing had ever looked less appetizing to him than the meal in his hand.  Liara was just coming in.  He passed his portion to her on his way out.  “I need to check on the med tent.  I haven’t touched it.”

She called after him, once, but he kept walking.

The rest of the afternoon passed in just that way- moving from one task to the next on autopilot, putting out fires and making up excuses to not be left idle.  The storm began gently but soon whipped into as full a fury as he’d ever seen.  Visibility dropped to nothing.  The tents were sturdy and weatherproof, but venturing beyond their walls was an exercise in patience and endurance.  Eventually he was simply too exhausted to continue walking between them even with a guide rope in hand.  He retreated to a sleeper tent. 

Alenko brushed the snow from his suit, rolled out his sleeping bag and lay down upon it, staring up at the tan underside of the pressurized tent.  The wind groaned and shook the walls.  So far, he had this one to himself.  A number of people had gathered in the mess tent, not wanting to talk but neither wanting to be alone.  He wasn’t sure which was worse- bearing the weight of others’ sympathy, or being trapped in isolation.

Nathaly was beside him just this morning.  Laughing.  Warm.

He’d never been so cold.

The truth he’d been avoiding all day reached out from the abyss beneath his feet with hooked nails and hungry mouths.  _I left her on the ship._

Alenko shuddered and wrapped his arms over his chest, trying to still himself.

_I got in the shuttle and left her there._

He glanced at the countdown on his omni-tool.  Six days, eleven hours remaining.  He cursed Liara.  It was impossible not to picture Nathaly floating impatiently amongst the debris of her ship, waiting for him, assuming he’d figure something out.  But there was no way back to orbit.  The escape shuttles were a one-way ride only.  Her only hope- if she was still alive- was that somebody would rescue them before her CO2 scrubber cartridge gave out.

It was hard, too, not to think about the men quietly dying in Chakwas’ field infirmary, or Addison Chase, who was struggling for life while battling the agony of a stomach wound, or the six people who vanished along with Shuttle Three.  It was hard to avoid recalling Talitha Draven’s worried, fearful face. 

It was hard not to remember the scent of Nathaly’s hair when he burrowed into her neck and wrapped his arms around her, cajoling her to stay just a little longer.

This couldn’t be real life.  She couldn’t be a whole universe in one moment, and nothing in the next.  That couldn’t possibly be how it worked.

He would have expected to be sad.  Maybe sick.  He found he was only hollowed out, scraped raw and discarded like a scrap yard ship.  There was a palpable void where Nathaly was supposed to be.  A last few smattered atoms of hope kept dragging his eyes back to the countdown, but he’d always been a realist, and that emptiness within told him it was a waste of energy.

Alenko could not recall whether he slept.  People came and went from the tent.  Nobody asked for him, and so he ignored them.  Eventually, the proscribed rest period had passed, and he sealed his helmet back into place and began their second day on Alchera.

Snow continued to fall, but here and there weak beams of pale yellow sunlight poked through the clouds.  The worst of the storm was over.  Alchera’s day was nearly sixty Earth hours, and it was not yet even local noon.  The clouds had provided a touch of artificial night.  Walking out into the storm break was like seeing the dawn.

Adams was already awake, having gotten little sleep himself, and holding council with what remained of his staff over breakfast.  Someone had found boil pouches of oatmeal.  Alenko shook his head as a private offered him one, his stomach queasy at the smell alone.  He still had no appetite worth mentioning.  At some point he would need to eat, hungry or not, but he could put it off a little longer.  It was a small act of selfish control that somehow lent a little comfort.

“Good morning, sir,” Adams said.

Alenko dispensed with the pleasantries.  “Where are we at on finding Shuttle Three?”

“Right.”  He cleared his throat.  “The storm is breaking up.  It’s impossible to know how the weather might turn, but we could chance a search party later today, after the last of it clears.”

Alenko didn’t like the way the others at the meeting were staring at him, that mixture of trepidation and pity.  “So you think you have a location?”

Adams nodded.  “We do.  I’m operating on the theory that one or more components of Shuttle Three’s landing system failed.  That would put them off course by something like twenty kilometers.”

“Twenty kilometers-“  That was an enormous search radius for a party on foot.

“An approximation.”  Adams pulled up a map on his datapad, a rough sketch of their immediate area, from his scouts the prior day.  “It’s not quite so bad- they would have overshot their landing zone to the east of here.  If we walk along that trajectory, we should cover most of the likely locations.”

“It’ll be at least four hours walking each way, more depending on how much we spread out, and the cold.” 

Private Daecher, one of the few marines not aboard Shuttle Three, looked up from the map.  “Sir, they still haven’t responded over radio.  If we don’t go get them, I don’t think we’re going to see them again.”

“We’re going to get them,” Alenko confirmed without hesitation.  The thought that they wouldn’t honestly hadn’t crossed his mind.  “We just need to figure out the smart way to do this.”

Adams straightened.  “Last night’s storm took most of the day to build.  We should have some warning on the weather.”

But the search team would travel in advance of the prevailing winds.  The camp could be enveloped before they ever knew it. Alenko rubbed his forehead.  Nathaly told him to protect the crew.  It was the last thing she asked of him, would ever ask of him.  What orders would she give, if she were here right now, making this call?

She never did anything by halves, and she never acted out of fear.  If she decided to retrieve a gaggle of marines, she’d make sure it got done.  “I’ll take Khaledi, Daecher, and Draven.  That should be enough to assist any survivors.  Adams, you have command of the camp.”

Adams raised an eyebrow, and shifted his gaze towards the determined woman standing at the far end of the group.  “Draven, sir?”

“We already know there are engineering complications.  I won’t find them lying out on the ice plain just to be unable to help,” Alenko said, unwilling to broach the real reason.  “We leave in one hour.”

Fifty-seven minutes later, they walked out of camp.  Alenko bundled a parka around his hardsuit, finding that its insulation fell short out here in the nagging chill.  His three crewmates were similarly attired.  Draven’s mask fogged over with every breath, faster than he would have expected for this exertion.  Her eyes darted beneath her hood.

With the camp behind them, subject to these long horizons, the ice plain was crushingly vacant.  The desolation went on for hundreds of kilometers.  Maybe even thousands.  The eye shrank from the sheer scale of this world. 

To the east, ahead of them, Alenko thought he could make out the blurry beginnings of hills, too far off to dream of reaching.  Clouds continued to crowd the southwestern sky.  It seemed another storm would be upon them that evening.  Alenko kept careful track of the time.

They spoke very little as they walked.   But for the clomping of their boots, he might have been alone in the universe.  The silence filled him up until he felt like his skin was dissolving under its outward pressure, the substance of himself melting away.  So he tried to distract himself with watching.  There was still no sign of the _Normandy_ overhead.  Joker and Adams concurred that the orbit was unstable, dipping into the upper atmosphere and degrading moment-by-moment thanks to drag, but it might take months to for the debris to fall.  He kept hoping to catch a glimpse of it; something to tell him this wasn’t a horrific dream.

Daecher held a scanner Adams’ team had rigged up out of the survival gear.  It didn’t have the resolution of standard equipment, but the range vastly exceeded omni-tool scanning.  He swept it out in front of them in regular arcs and scrutinized the static for signs of the missing shuttle.

Khaledi kept her eyes on the ground and her hand clenched around her plastic case full of medical supplies.  Every so often she switched hands.  Alenko remembered her streaked with soot and sweat as she hauled Chase into their shuttle.  The private’s condition was still touch and go, and Khaledi had been serving as Chakwas’ assistant since the attack.  All things considered she was holding up well, but it was disquieting to see her carefree demeanor transformed by such gravity.

For Alenko’s part, he tried to supplement the scans with his own eyes, and monitored the emergency frequencies.  If Shuttle Three’s transmitter was damaged, there was some chance they were simply out of range. 

Halfway to Adams’ predicted search zone, the terrain became mired.  At first it was only small cracks, jagged fingers of collapsed and jumbled ice to trap unwary feet.  They lay so flush to the surface that it was almost impossible to see them until they were on top of them.  Gradually, they became larger, and more treacherous.  More than once they were forced to skirt around a small crevasse to avoid becoming stuck.  They had no climbing apparatus; Alenko didn’t want to risk crawling down into anything that could break a bone in a fall, or prove even slightly difficult to get back out of.  He was concerned, too, that the ground beneath them might be rotten.  They walked slowly, and at a distance from each other to minimize the risk of a sudden collapse.

He was just about to call for a retreat, worried about the weather and the long walk back, when Daecher glanced up from his scanner and pointed ahead.  “Look, over there.”

Alenko squinted and saw a glint of metal shining in the morning sun. 

Khaledi brightened.  Draven hurried forward.  Alenko jogged after her, snagging her arm.  “Not so fast.  We’ve still got to deal with this rough ground.”

She glared.  He sighed.  “We won’t be any help to them if we hurt ourselves getting there.”

It took another twenty minutes of slowly picking their way across the ravine-riddled ice before they closed in on the shuttle.  The radio remained silent.  The shuttle had dug its way into the ice, leaving a long, deep scar and throwing up piles of half-melted debris to either side.  The liquefied surface had re-frozen into a slick translucent shell.  Traction was impossible.  He was still cursing the climb when he crested the ridge at last and got his first good look at the shuttle.

The wind went out of him like a sucker punch to the gut.

It was immediately obvious why nobody had attempted to broadcast the location.  Even if any part of the computer had survived, he doubted the antenna was sufficiently intact to carry the signal.  Shuttle Three was a crude ball of charred metal and slag.  The port was cracked and blackened; the hull shriveled like a rotten peach, with tears rent vertically along the sides.  Pieces had sheared off and lay heaped beside the capsule and across the ice like glitter.  Nothing within was visible but brooding shadows.  He had no desire to see any further.

For several moments he was too shocked and heartbroken to say anything.  It was a full shuttle.  Most of them marines.  A lack of survivors would have been a disappointment, but not a surprise.  This though… he hadn’t pictured this.  Crosby, Greico, Draven…

_Draven_.  He turned in place, hoping to stall her, but it was too late.  She struggled up the last step and looked down at the remains, blinking in the light.

For a second everything was still.  Then she let out a scream that would haunt him until he died and flung herself down towards the ruins of the shuttle.

“Shit-“  Alenko slid down after her, trying as best he could to control the descent.  The last thing they needed twenty klicks from camp was an injury.  “Draven, wait-“

She clawed at the hull as if trying to tear off the panels with her bare hands.  “Roz!  Roz!”

Distantly, he heard Daecher and Khaledi scrambling down after them.  He scuttled forward, slipping on the refrozen ice.  “Talitha!”

Her savage attack on shuttle continued unabated.  The wreckage tore holes in her gloves.  Her skin bled through them.  “ _Rosamund!”_

“You’re hurting yourself-“  He tried to grab hold of her flailing arms, but something- grief, adrenaline, pure undefiled rage- made her unexpectedly strong.  She all but flung him off.  Draven wiped at the charred glass of the port, desperate to look inside, and left a bloody smear that began to freeze instantly in the bitter air.

Alenko made a second attempt, more successful this time.  He managed to pin her arms and drag her bodily from the wreck.  She cursed him, sobbing.  He sank to his knees for better traction, hauling her with him.  For all her fight she felt light as a twig.  “You don’t want to see that, trust me.  You don’t.”

The two marines reached them at last.  Daecher stared open-mouthed.  “Holy shit.”

Khaledi set down her medical case and brought up her omni-tool, waving it at the shuttle, a formality only.  “No life signs present.”

Draven let out another sob and doubled over in his lap.

He patted her back, having no earthly idea what to do, unable to stop staring at the abject ruin of a vehicle.  Six people, all dead.  His people.  It must have shown on his face, because Khaledi gave him a look edged with contempt, and drew Talitha away, murmuring comfort.  “Shh.  It’s alright, it’s going to be ok-“

“It’s not ok,” Alenko snapped, sharp enough to cut the air. 

Khaledi and Daecher blinked their surprise.  He was surprised himself; he hadn’t meant to speak.  Yet the words continued to tumble out, each harsher than the last, from somewhere beyond his control.  “It’s not ok.  It’s not going to be ok.  Don’t lie to her.  It doesn’t help.”

The marines exchanged a glance.  Talitha went on weeping into Khaledi’s coat.  He looked off, embarrassed as the sudden anger drained away as swiftly as it came, and cleared his throat, trying to fill up the awkwardness.  “Maybe the retrorockets didn’t fire.  Maybe the mass effect shielding malfunctioned.  Either way, they were dead when they hit the ground.  They didn’t have a chance.”

“Salvage, sir?” Daecher asked, probably because he didn’t know what else to ask.

Alenko shook his head.  He felt dull and lifeless, a million years old.  “No.  We should head back to camp.  I don’t want to be caught out here when the next storm hits.”

Without a word, Khaledi turned and started to guide Draven up the long slope of the ravine the shuttle had dug, the only practical way out.  Her disgust with him was evident in every stomp of her boots.  He felt a twinge of guilt.  It had been an unkind, if honest, thing to say.  Khaledi hadn’t meant any harm.

He wondered if he screamed and cried, gave all these careful people some kind of public show of grief, they’d finally stop attempting to console him.  Their well-intentioned concern was an intrusion.  A part of him wished he could let it out, somehow.  But he didn’t feel that- there was no passion to it, just a numbing sort of despair.  Talitha’s grief set her afire.  His seemed determined to crush him into nothing.

Almost on cue, Daecher abruptly cleared his throat.  “Sir?  I hope you know… Well, about Shepard…”

He trailed off feebly.  Alenko offered him a grimace, quick and tight, that didn’t quite manage to be a polite acknowledgement.  It was the most he could muster.  “I should radio Adams and let him know what we found.”

“I can do it, sir, if you like.”  Daecher seemed just as relieved to change the subject.

Alenko nodded, and they continued trudging across the plain.

The wind was picking up again ahead of the rising storm as they wandered back into camp, exhausted from the long hike in the biting cold.  Alenko had been on longer marches, but few so taxing, physically or otherwise.  Chakwas awaited for them, her lips pursed behind her breather mask.  She hustled the search team into the medical tent muttering about hare-brained rescue schemes.

Khaledi stripped off her gear and stowed the unopened case of supplies.  The doctor took note.

“They’re all gone, then?” she asked, brusquely.

Alenko removed his helmet.  “Something went wrong on reentry.  They hit the ground at terminal velocity.  I’m surprised the shuttle was even a little intact.”

He remembered waving them aboard amid the fear and flames, not two days ago.  It seemed so random.  Any of them could have ended up on that shuttle during the evacuation.  Any of them.  It was a dreadful silence that kept sucking words from his mouth.  “The shuttle was charred all over.  No way to get inside.”

Talitha Draven wrapped her arms around her waist and stared at the floor.  Her face was rubbed raw from the way the tears froze on her cheeks as they walked the twenty kilometers back, and her hands were a bloody mess.  Her voice came from somewhere else.  “I just wanted to see her, one last time.”

“There would have been no way to recognize her,” Chakwas said, and somehow her way of saying it, the quiet empathy underwriting every word, was soothing rather than cruel.  She glanced over at their field medic.  “Private, would you please see if we have any ointment for Ensign Draven’s skin.”

Khaledi nodded and began to sort through a bag.  Chakwas turned to her two remaining patients.  “You seem in one piece.”

Daecher shrugged.  “A bit hungry, ma’am.”

“There should be some dinner left next door.”  At her urging, Daecher ducked out.  She eyed Alenko.  “And you, Lieutenant.  Have you eaten anything at all since the attack?”

“I’m fine,” he said, automatically.  It was the wrong answer in the sense that it gave away the truth.

Chakwas was unwilling to let it slide.  She pulled a pair of protein bars out of her pocket.  “Between the cold and these sorts of stunts, your calorie consumption is skyrocketing.  You’ll burn through your reserves.  We can’t afford for you to become ill due to needless malnourishment.”

She held out the bars until he was forced to either take them or stalk out of the tent like a petulant child.  His protests sounded lame even to his ears.  “I’m just not hungry.”

“Hunger and needing to be fed are less connected than one supposes.”  She crossed her arms.  He tore the wrapper and attempted a half-hearted bite.  The doctor smiled.  “There you go.”

Much to his chagrin, she stood and watched him until he’d swallowed every resentful mouthful.  It was like chewing concrete.  His throat didn’t want to accept so much as a morsel.  Somehow, he got it all down.  He was surprised to feel slightly better at the end, if nothing like alright.

“Go try to sleep,” she said, with that same quiet sympathy that comforted Draven, and he was coming to dread. 

Before he was forced to reply, Specialist Novak, one of Adams’ few surviving engineers, entered the infirmary.  “Sir, we’ve got an issue out at southwest tent.”

“What is it?”

“The pressurization unit’s fritzing out.  We’ve got limited repair capability.  Adams wants you to come have a look.”

Alenko rubbed his forehead.  All of the emergency gear had been packed onto the _Normandy_ more than a year ago, when the shuttles were added to the new frigate, with an exacting economy of space.  He doubted any of it had ever been tested.  “Alright, I’m on my way.”  He gave Chakwas a nod.  “Doctor.”

She frowned, but said nothing more as he sealed his helmet and walked out into the snow.

The tent wasn’t recycling the air properly.  Two of the crew had suffered from mild oxygen deprivation before anyone caught on.  Some of the hazards of space were more insidious than others; lack of O2 reduced reasoning capacity and made it very hard to even notice anything was awry.  They had very little in the way of spare parts, no idea how long they’d be marooned here, and nobody was an expert on habitat maintenance.  But he made the decision to try the repair.  Living space was sanity.  It had to be preserved as long as possible.

After that, there were more requests, going on into the evening by the navy clock, though Amada sunshine continued to occasionally break through the clouds.  Most of them were simple.  A few people wanted extra blankets or needed their oxygen supplies refreshed.  A lot of them just wanted to talk.  The _Normandy_ had carried an exceptionally close crew and now half of them were gone.  Everyone was shell-shocked, and everyone was mourning.  It didn’t make it any easier to listen, but it was still better than having to talk himself.  Alenko never knew what to say in the face of that kind of pain.  Words seemed ridiculously inadequate.

He didn’t exactly want to play that role, but it felt right that he should.  God help them all, but this was his crew now, inherited in the worst possible way, and he was trying his hardest to be worthy of that. 

News had gotten around about what they found out on the plain.  It was easier, too, to accept commiseration on the loss of Shuttle Three and so many of the marines.  Their deaths were a lump in his stomach, hard and grinding against the walls, their faces shadows in his mind, but it wasn’t the dark and gaping void that tore a bit wider whenever somebody spoke Nathaly’s name, or caused him to picture her face, or hear her voice.  He felt guilty about that, like these people who had trusted him with their lives for six long months were erased by the magnitude of that solitary loss.  It made him doubt the limits of his own compassion.

After a few hours of that, Alenko had all he could take, and he escaped to the mess tent.  With dinner over and the second storm front bearing down upon, them the tent was nearly empty.  Serviceman Santos sat alone in the semi-twilight, fiddling with the controls of the emergency transmitter, set up just outside the cloth walls.

She glanced up as he came in.  “Good evening, sir.”

“Serviceman.”  Someone had left an electrical kettle out, alongside strewn packets of powdered hot chocolate.  The sight of it stabbed him through, but he made a cup, because he was freezing and because it was something to do that wasn’t going to his tent to pretend to sleep.

Santos continued to adjust the transmitter.  He raised his eyebrows.  “What are you doing?”

She seemed disconcerted by the question.  “My job, sir.  The other communications specialists died in the attack.”

Santos was calm as she said it, without a single catch or edge to her voice, as if they were sitting in the CIC on a particularly ordinary day.  He stared.  Her brow furrowed.  “Without a comm buoy to boost our signal, it’s unlikely that we’re transmitting out of system.  So I’m sending out a broadcast on common Terminus frequencies as well.  If anyone enters Amada, they should acquire the signal easily.”

She looked back at the instrument.  “I’ve also attempted to reach the _Normandy’s_ antenna.  I believe whatever remains of the ship has powered down.”

He took a sip, suddenly profoundly exhausted in the face of her utter lack of neediness, and managed only, “Thank you.”

“Sir.”  She turned back to her dials.

After a few moments and another several sips, he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”

That surprised her.  She blinked.  “I imagine you have quite a lot to do already.”

He sat down and closed his eyes.  “As you were, then.”

“Yes, sir.”  Santos concentrated on her work.  Alenko finished the drink, slowly, enjoying the undemanding company almost as much as the silence, until he couldn’t put off bed any longer and said goodnight.

The second night wasn’t any easier than the first, but while his mind was restless, the rest of him was done in and he fell into a troubled sleep.  When his omni-tool woke him with its morning alarm, there was a certain grittiness to his eyes that suggested he’d spent as many hours awake as dreaming. 

By now the crew had established a new routine.  Everyone had found some duty to occupy their time- verifying systems, assisting with food prep, scouting the perimeter of the camp.  There was no value in having nothing to do because it gave them too much time to think.  Alenko forced himself to choke down part of his breakfast, and then got to work himself.

He spent most of the day out at the shuttles, parsing through the scattered data left behind by _Normandy’s_ VI when the ship went offline.  They hadn’t any time to start the survey of Alchera prior to the attack, but as a matter of course, the VI transferred all pertinent information stored in its data banks during an evacuation to aid in survival.  Alchera wasn’t a valuable planet but neither was it virgin territory.  There were older public maps available which the ship had downloaded. 

Alenko hadn’t spent longer than a few hours totally disconnected from the extranet since birth.  Even on Jump Zero, they had very limited access, mostly for schoolwork.  It was disconcerting to not have several civilizations’ worth of knowledge available at his slightest curiosity.  The absence of the extranet complicated even the smallest problems.  The pressurization unit would have been easy to fix with access to proper manuals- not to mention their rescue would be all but guaranteed.

There was data about the _Normandy_ itself as well, up until the moment the VI was destroyed.  Alenko thought it was unlikely that the ship was totally obliterated.  That would take more effort than it could possibly be worth to their attacker- whoever or whatever that ship had been.

Enough time had passed so that the Alchera day was temporarily synced with Earth time and they enjoyed the full morning as they worked.  Two of the three moons had risen overhead, and every surface was covered in a fresh layer of snow.  In other circumstances, it would have made for spectacular photography, like a somewhat warmer Antarctic. 

By late afternoon, they were frozen through and more than ready to call it a day.  They trudged back to the relative warmth of the camp and the dinner it offered.  There was little good to say about the emergency rations except that they packed well and were calorie-dense.  They could be eaten cold, though it was a small mercy the crew had not been forced to do so.  He ate his portion with mechanical efficiency.  It was getting easier, if not any more enjoyable.

Alenko didn’t see Chakwas or Khaledi during the meal service, and so once he was finished, he walked next door to their tent.  It was approaching local noon.  Though Amada shed little heat, the light reflecting off the white hurt his eyes, and made him squint as he entered the relative dark of the infirmary.

Chakwas was setting the arm of a private Alenko recognized from the avionics team.  The man was ashen faced, but endured the treatment without complaint.

“I’ve set it once already,” Chakwas explained, clucking exasperation.  “But somebody thought it was good idea to help ferry more supplies from Shuttle Six.”

The private had the grace to look embarrassed.  The doctor continued her work.  “What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”

“Any change in status?” Alenko asked as he removed his helmet.  Several of the crew lay on sleeping bags hastily arranged on the floor of the tent.  The tent’s material was fully weatherproof, but cold still seeped up from the ground.  Private Chase was among them.  She was colorless, grimacing, blonde hair soaked and limp against her forehead.  One hand tucked under her blanket to cradle her abdominal laceration.  The doctor had closed it as best she could, but conditions were primitive.

Chakwas located a nylon sling and lifted the man’s arm into it as she answered. “I’ve done what I can for now.  Those with moderate injuries have been treated, and I’m monitoring the rest you see here.”

She stepped back and helped the private to his feet.  “Off you go now.  And no more using that arm.”

He slunk off.  Most of the other patients were sleeping or unconscious; Alenko couldn’t tell.  “Casualties?”

Chakwas pushed her graying hair out of her eyes.  “As you’re aware, we lost two of the most severely injured within the first twenty-four hours.  Thankfully, there have been no further injuries of note since we landed.”

He nodded.  Alenko found there was nothing left in him for more of a reaction.  He glanced at Chase, who had scrunched her eyes shut, and lowered his voice.  “And…?”

Chakwas pursed her lips and shook her head, just barely, enough to convey the prognosis without alerting Chase.

His stomach knotted.  He knew everyone aboard ship.  A frigate wasn’t so large that it was difficult to memorize every name and face after six months together.  But Chase was a marine- one of his.  He let out a breath.  “Alright.  Go get some food.”

“I shouldn’t leave them alone-“

“I’ve got it.  As someone recently reminded me, it’s important to keep up our strength.”

Her mouth set into a line, but she didn’t protest.  “If you insist.” 

Chakwas gave the tent one final glance, picked up her breather mask, and set off into the cold.  He took a second breath, steeling himself, and found a spot on the floor beside Chase.  “Hey.”

Her head lolled towards him.  Pain etched her face.  “Sir.”

“You need anything?” he asked, at a loss for what to say.

She shook her head, and grimaced again.  “The doc gave me another shot for the pain.  I don’t think it’s kicked in yet.”

“What happened?”

“I was in my rack when the alarm went off.  Panel… exploded behind my sleeping pod… shattered the glass.  I got a piece of it in my side.”

His brow furrowed. “Those glass lids are supposed to be shatter-proof.”

“Maybe they’re… still in warranty.”

He chuckled.  She grinned for a moment, before her discomfort reasserted control.  “Who else made it off?  The doc won’t tell me much.”

“Not as many as I’d like.  About half.”  He paused.  “Not many of us made it.”

Chase didn’t need to ask to know he meant the marines.  “Officer from the CIC was in here, getting patched up.  She said the X.O.’s dead.”

“True,” he said, without elaboration.  The circumstances of Pressly’s death were unknown.

“I heard the commander...” she started to venture, but trailed off, run out of temerity.

Alenko paused, a fraction too long as his throat closed up, and then forced as much of a smile as he could.  “Sure I can’t get you anything?”

“Maybe some water.”  She watched him as he went to fetch a bottle.  “Shepard was one of a kind.  What a damn waste.”

_Nathaly’s face, scarce centimeters from his only a short time ago, her mouth still moist from the kiss she just gave him.  “It’s about the look of the thing.”_

“Here,” he said, twisting off the top.  He had to help tip it into her mouth.  She made an effort to swallow and lay back.  “That’s better.”

She nodded and shut her eyes.  “Can I ask you something, sir?”

“Anything you like.”  Alenko had to work to keep his tone light. 

“Is the Alliance coming back for us?”

“Yes.”  He licked his lips, watched her squirm.  “It might take a while, though.”

She nodded, as though that was the answer she expected.  “Too late, right?”

He tried to think of what to say, and he must have waited too long, because her face settled into a weary resignation.  He’d never felt so inadequate in his entire life.

“You got anyone, back on Earth?” she asked.

“My parents.  That’s about it.”

“My parents died when I was a kid.”  Chase coughed.  It was a dry cough, lacking in energy.  “It’s been my brother and I since then.  He’s in high school now.”

In a time of war it was somehow easy to forget how young some of them were.  Chase couldn’t have been much more than twenty.  “You signed up to take care of him?”

She nodded again.  “He’s a good kid.  I wouldn’t let the government people take us.  I couldn’t.  We got by.  Navy pay helped once I turned eighteen…  Things got better.”

“How’s he doing, in high school?”

A snort, almost a laugh.  “Dumb as rocks, but he tries hard.”

Alenko chuckled.  “Lot of good kids out there like that.”

“Can you make sure, if… when…”  She took a shaky breath.  “I need to get back to him.  Whatever happens.  The legal situation is complicated.  I’m not sure the Alliance will know where- where to take me.”

His jaw clenched.  She looked so small and earnest lying on the sleeping bag, staring up at him with a kind of urgency he’d rarely seen.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’ll make sure.  I’ll go myself if I have to.”

Chase lay back and seemed to relax.  The anxiety slowly drained from her expression and left behind something that was almost peaceful.  Or maybe it was just the pain meds taking hold.  Three days was a long time to fight a stomach wound.  She was likely more exhausted than anyone here.  “Thanks.”

“I’m going to find out what happened,” he said, lamely.  “Figure out what attacked us.”

“Had to be geth.  Or maybe mercs.  Right?”

“They’ve never seen through the IES before.”  He shook his head.  “There’s got to be more to it.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, closing her eyes, “When the cavalry gets here, go ahead and kick intel’s ass for me, would you?”

“You and a lot of other people.”  He took her free hand, a bit awkwardly, but she didn’t seem to mind.    

Chase fell into a restless sleep.  Her heart finally gave out just before dawn.  Chakwas confirmed the time of death, and they took her outside and laid her in the snow beside Tanaka and Pakti.

That was the third night.

Liara found him later.  She’d made herself scarce, checking in when they happened to see each other, helping the crew where she could, but otherwise retreating from the crowd.  He hadn’t gone out of his way see her either.  She’d been close to Nathaly too, and her pain was unwelcome.  It threatened the shaky equilibrium he’d so carefully established. 

The survivors had raised a kind of memorial at the edge of camp- a mound of snow for each person they’d lost, in concentric circles.  The bodies of those who died on the ground were laid out next to it, covered, with their own small mounds heaped beside them.

Alenko was staring at the arrangement with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.  Liara drew up beside him and tilted her head.  It was a moment before she spoke.  “How are you holding up?”

“How do you think?” he shot back, before he could stop himself.

Liara was taken aback.  “I’m sorry.”

He let out a sigh and looked up at the clouds.  “No, I’m sorry.  That was…”

“Understandable,” she said.  “I’m having… difficulty.  Shepard was- I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend like her.  I still can’t believe she didn’t make it off the ship.  It seems unreal.”

“She didn’t want to get off that ship.”  The ugly thought had festered all night, as he sat in the makeshift infirmary, failing to sort out any part of this mess she left behind and fuming at the sheer randomness of it all.  Chase killed by a piece of glass that wasn’t supposed to break- was that supposed to be some kind of sadistic joke?  Her death a moronic punch line?

Liara’s brow furrowed.  “You can’t possibly mean that.”

His shoulders tightened.  “I don’t mean she wanted to be dead.”

The attempt at clarification fell flat.  “Then what did you mean?”

_She didn’t want to relive this more than she didn’t want to be dead.  She’d rather leave me with this-_  He took a deep breath.“Never mind.”

“Kaidan-“

“Just forget it, ok?”

She hesitated.  “Private Chase’s death-“

“-has nothing to do with this.”  But it had everything to do with it, and they both knew it.  Shepard didn’t know how to fail.  He couldn’t avoid feeling that, if she were there, if she’d had the guts to evacuate, it might have all turned out differently.

“Kaidan, this isn’t Shepard’s fault.”

“Joker said she hesitated.  Right after she put him in the shuttle, she paused at the hatch for no good reason.” 

“You can’t know why she did that.”

“Yes, I do.”  Ash had been the final straw on outliving people she was meant to protect.  Nathaly wasn’t capable of leaving anyone behind, not anymore.  And he let her send him away.

_I had one chance to get her out of there, and I let her talk me out of it._

_I trusted her not to make me go on alone._

Liara took a breath, and he cut her off.  “I’m sorry.  Adams needs to see me.”

She didn’t attempt to stop him as he trudged off towards the shuttles, where the engineers were still hard at work.

The next several days passed slowly.  Nobody said it, but the ongoing radio silence from the Alliance was disturbing.  While they’d never admit to it publicly, the navy had an active interest in the Terminus Systems, and it was difficult to believe they’d had no other patrols near enough to investigate the _Normandy’s_ sudden disappearance.  Alenko was beginning to worry they might be in for a long haul.

He wasn’t the only one.  Chakwas sent him a daily inventory of her medical supplies.  Adams had to be talked out of running a salvage mission to Shuttle Three, unconvinced even by their photographs that there would be nothing of use.  Alenko changed his mind about the living arrangements and decommissioned two of the sleeper tents, to save on scrubber cartridges.  The reduced space also made it easier to keep warm, which in turn saved on power. 

They convened a meeting in the mess tent to discuss further measures.

“I don’t like the way we’re going through the food,” Adams said.

Chakwas raised an eyebrow.  “You’re concerned about rationing already?”

Alenko was inclined to agree with her.  “Each shuttle was stocked for six people, for up to a month on a standard diet.  That works out to a little under two months for the people we need to feed.”

“The problem is that we’re not eating a standard diet.”  Adams reached over and picked up a handful of packets.  “We’re leaving this stuff out like we’ve got a hot chocolate tree growing outside the tent.  We don’t know how long we’re going to be out here, and we need to keep every crew member to their assigned calorie allotment.”

“Those small accommodations are important to morale,” Chakwas argued.  “Surely we’re not yet so desperate that we need to deny such meager pleasures?”

Alenko tired of this argument.  “If nobody’s found us in a few months, it means nobody’s looking, and we’re all dead anyway.”

That silenced the discussion.  They exchanged uneasy glances.  He was tired of that as well.  “Or is it just me who’s noticed the lack of breathable air and tasty native life forms?”

Liara attempted diplomacy.  “It’s no use dwelling on it.  We need to figure out how to get through these next few weeks.”

Chakwas nodded. “I wasn’t being trite. Morale is as important as everything else.  Once people start to give up, there is very little that can stop them.”

“Alright, we’ll keep the rationing loose then.”  Alenko ran his hand over his hair.  “What’s next?”

“Salvage,” Adams said.  “I trust stripping down the escape shuttles won’t negatively impact morale.”

It was uncustomarily mean.  Chakwas touched his arm.  “Greg, it’s not your fault the shuttle’s reentry failed.  Nobody could have known.”

“We do routine checks on all the evacuation equipment, once a month.  It looked fine.”  There was something haunted in Adams’ look.  Apparently, Alenko wasn’t the only one wrestling with personal guilt.

“You kept us flying through all kinds of trouble,” Liara said.  “I’m sure most of us wouldn’t have made it down here if the ship hadn’t held up so well during the attack.”

Alenko feebly threw in his two cents.  “Yeah.  That first blast would’ve ripped another frigate right in-“

His omni-tool alarm went off.  He stared at the flashing numbers.

“What’s that?” Chakwas asked, peering over at him.

His mouth had gone dry.  It couldn’t have been seven days.  Not already, not yet…

Adams frowned.  “Has something happened?”

Alenko pushed past them and fled outside the tent, only just getting his helmet in place.  It was dark now, nearing local midnight, and starting to snow again.  He kept walking until he passed the perimeter of the camp and shut off the alarm.  Then he stood in the black, staring up at the sky and taking deep gulping breaths.

_You can’t do this now, Kaidan, you can’t do this now, you can’t, you can’t-_

His hands pressed against his facemask, trying to cram down the hot, awful wail rising in his throat, trying to hold back all of the thoughts fighting to get out since he found Joker alone.  _Why didn’t you get on the damn shuttle?  It was right there!_

Why couldn’t the enemy ship, whatever it was, have held off just another second?  Couldn’t Joker have moved his ass just a little faster?  Why- why, why, why, the one time this godforsaken universe decided to line everything up just perfectly- why was it for something like that?

Why had he stalled her in the battery?  He’d never managed to change her mind about anything.  What had been so damned important that he had to waste a minute of her time just then?

His legs folded up underneath him and he curled up on the snow, his fingers gripping the back of his helmet like he was trying to break it in two.  He squeezed his eyes shut.  All it did was press the water out of them.  It dripped down onto his mask, obscuring the snow. 

He kept picturing her back on Feros, the morning after they defeated the thorian.  She was fussing with her hair- god, but that woman never seemed to stop fussing with her hair- complaining about her hangover, anything but what she said the previous night.  Closed up again.  Distancing herself with everyday banter, and meanwhile all he wanted was for her to let him back in.

She had.  Eventually.  It’d taken months, but she had.  And somehow, she’d come to love him, too.  It was the strangest and most wonderful story of his life.

And then she was gone.  No warning, no chance to get used to it.  He didn’t know which was worse- the constant nagging feeling that any moment, he’d turn around and there she’d be, or the ironclad certainty that was never going to happen.

He realized he was weeping.  He rolled onto his side, not caring that the ground was freezing, and pulled his knees up to his chest, shuddering with each gasping breath.  The cold was welcome.  He let it spread through him, and hoped the falling snow would bury him.  He never wanted to move.

She was the best thing that ever happened to him, and he was never going to see her again.

At that moment, he didn’t care if they ever got off Alchera.  He didn’t care if he never spoke to another person.  All this work, trying to hold them together down here, and for what?

He remembered Nathaly screaming on the beach after Ashley died.  He’d been stuck back in the caves, out of sight, but her voice carried.  _“It was for nothing?!”_

And for some reason, it was that memory that brought him back to himself, just a trickle of rational thought lancing through the storm of pain.  Because it had been for nothing.  They hadn’t gotten Saren. They hadn’t gotten Sovereign.  Everything they learned about Sovereign on Virmire Vigil would have told them later.  It was ineffably pointless.  All they’d done was shut down a half-rate research lab and cloning facility. 

For that Ashley had died.  For that he’d stumbled around on crutches for weeks, pretending his leg didn’t hurt even when it ached so badly he wanted to cut it off.  For that, Nathaly had torn herself into tiny pieces with her own claws.

For that, because all they could ever do was try, and that time it left them holding onto to nothing but a nuclear wind.  Maybe the outcome had never mattered.  Maybe the trying was all there ever was.

And so, slowly, Kaidan sat up and brushed the snow from his suit, and even more slowly he stood.  Not because she would have wanted him to- that line of thinking had taken him exactly as far as it could and no further- but because he’d never stopped trying, not once in his life, not when the Conatix people took him to Brain Camp, not when Vyrnnus made their lives a living hell, not when Jenkins died, not when Ashley died, not when he found the rest of his team dead in that shuttle, and not now.  Especially not now.

His face was still wet as he trudged back to the mess tent, but his mind was clear, for the first time in days.  He took a breath and pushed his way inside.

The better part of an hour had passed.  The other three were still there, shifting uncomfortably.  Their conversation stopped abruptly as he entered.  He strode back to his place at the meeting, removed his helmet, and cleared his throat.  “We were discussing salvaging the shuttles.”

They were each watching him with trepidation, as if waiting for him to implode.  He could only imagine how he must look.  But the embarrassment never came; instead, there was only self-assurance, and not numbness masquerading as confidence.

Alenko looked from each face to the next.  “We’re going to get through this.  Tell me what you need.”

Adams cleared his throat.  “Well, as I was saying, if we could start stripping out the shuttle structures, we might be able to build a shelter that would be a bit easier on our heat generators.”

“And it would be a good project for the crew,” Liara added.

They continued on into the morning, making plans and- finally- some progress as well.

/\/\/\/\/\

Alenko was reviewing an inventory of scrap several days later when the asari interrupted him.  “Liara.”

“Kaidan.”  She was clutching a datapad, and moved the breather mask off her face.  “I hoped to talk to you about an idea I’ve been working on, but I do not know if this is the time.”

“We got nothing but time.”  He straightened and tried to rub the tired out of his eyes.  A good night’s sleep still eluded him.  Some things were harder to fix than others.  “What’s on your mind?”

“We must find a way to contact the Alliance.  Every other problem pales in comparison.”

“We’ve discussed this.  The transmitter isn’t strong enough to reach the relay, and we can’t boost the signal, not with the available parts.  There’s nothing else we can do-“

“There’s nothing else we can do from the ground,” Liara corrected.  “Adams believes the _Normandy_ broke into several large pieces.  We might be able to salvage something of the antenna.  If we can get back to orbit.”

He raised his eyebrows.  “I assume if you’re mentioning this, you have some idea of how to do that.”

She almost smiled, and then seemed to catch herself, as though remembering their present circumstances.  “I do.”

She talked him through it.  Then they went into an unoccupied sleeper tent- he didn’t want the notion to get around, not until he was sure it was possible- and talked about it in greater detail for another few hours.  Then they went to find Adams.

Alenko checked that they were alone, and folded his arms.  “I think you need to hear this.”

Liara cleared her throat.  “The escape shuttles were intended for a single short trip, to ferry survivors to safety in the event of an evacuation.  They can’t be reused.”

“I know that.”  Adams was busy, and short on patience.  “Get to the point.”

She continued, a bit testily. “However, from what I understand, that’s more of a software problem.”

“It’s not a software problem.  There are hard stops wired into the fuel lines because the engines aren’t rated for more than one use.  Once those valves shut, there’s no getting them open again.”

Alenko jumped in before it could devolve into an argument.  “We’ve been taking apart two of the shuttles piece by piece, right down to the bolts, to build that shelter.  We can bypass the valves- if we build something from scratch, using salvaged structural components.”

Adams laughed, trailing off as their expressions didn’t change.  “You’re serious.  You can’t be serious.”

Liara twisted her hands.  “We need _Normandy’s_ antenna.  I don’t think the Alliance knows where to look.”

“Or they could think we’re all dead and it’s not worth the risk of looking,” Alenko said.  “We’re still in the Terminus.  It’s not as bad as, say, batarian space, but they won’t send in a rescue team without good reason.”

Adams started to pace.  “This is what you get for living in the modern age where everything seems easy.  Atmospheres and gravity are both incredibly unforgiving.  You can’t strap a couple engines to a tinfoil boat and expect it to work.  You need avionics.  You need guidance systems.  You need-“

“-all the things each and every one of the shuttles has already.”  Alenko waved his hand.  “We just need to recycle them.”

“If you pulled that off and got a working vehicle- and that’s a big if- you still don’t know whether any part of the antenna is intact.  It’s a lot of risk for little reward.  Not to mention that enemy ship might still be out there, waiting.  Do you want to draw its attention to the fact that some of us survived?”

“It’s had plenty of time to scan the surface.  You’re kidding yourself if you think a ship that advanced wasn’t able to track the escape shuttle trajectories.”

Adams snorted.  “Maybe they’re chasing away whatever patrols the Alliance sent.  Too dangerous to approach.”

“A trap,” Kaidan said.

Adams nodded.  Liara shook her head.  “I refuse to believe nobody would try, if that were the case.  From what I have seen of the Alliance you never allow challenging odds to discourage you.”

The older engineer sighed.  “This may come as a shock, but most of the navy isn’t as radical as Shepard.”

_Alenko turned to Nathaly, enraged and almost insensible with terror for her.  “What the hell are you doing here?”_

_“This is a lot more than six geth,” she said, airily, as she took aim._

“-just leave us out to dry,” Liara was arguing.

Alenko gave himself a shake.  Virmire faded away.  “She’s right.”

They both turned to look at him.  He took an unsteady breath.  “Anderson is the human councilor now.  That’s a damn lot of influence.  He thought of… thought of…”  It took everything in him to try to force out her name.  He failed.  “He considered her a daughter.  He wouldn’t abandon her here.  Not for anything.”

Adams rubbed his chin.  “So you’re assuming that the signal just isn’t getting through, and they didn’t have a fix on our last position.  They don’t know where to begin looking.”

“This was a lazy run,” he said. “You know, I know it.  It was check in the box before we headed back home.  And the navy’s had us off the leash since Eden Prime.  It wouldn’t have taken much for them to lose track of us out here.”

He absorbed that.  At last, he said, “I’ve heard worse ideas than this harebrained scheme of Liara’s.  Not many, mind you.”

“Can you do it?” Liara asked.

His mouth thinned into a line- but there was a shine to his eyes that betrayed his eagerness to try.  “We’ll see.”

The project reinvigorated the camp.  Whether or not it was ever successful, Alenko thought it was a good decision for the morale boost alone.  Everyone found a way to become involved.  Chakwas knew more about life support systems than he would have expected.  Joker actually remembered something from all those navigation classes.  Santos took charge of the communications lines. 

Naturally, Adams oversaw the project as a whole.  He decided they would build something closer to a shuttle than one of the pods.  It wouldn’t have much maneuverability in atmo, but it shouldn’t need it, if their mission went as planned.  The worst of it was that nobody could see a way around the one-way trip problem.  They simply didn’t have the infrastructure to build a reusable craft.  Whoever rode the final product back to orbit would be stuck there until either rescue or death released them.

For Alenko’s part, he claimed a corner in the mess tent and started taking apart circuit boards.  Over the next ten days, he rewired more hardware than he had in his whole life up to that point, using a jury-rigged soldering iron and a lot of makeshift connectors.  Everything in a modern spacecraft ran on digital circuitry- from the lights to a dreadnought’s drive core.  Likewise, every system on their frankenship needed its own computer hardware.  His life had taken him down another path, but he’d never really lost the knack for it, and right now they needed that far more than skill at arms. 

They were going to get off this planet.  He was going to keep these people, what was left of them, safe. 

At the end of it, they had the ugliest ship the galaxy had ever seen.  They’d cannibalized the frames of two shuttles to make a squat, oval-shaped craft, with barely enough room for three people.  A cluster of engines at the back gave it a lopsided look.  Scavenged reinforcements would help it hold together, but it wasn’t going to be anyone’s idea of a smooth ride to orbit. 

They called her the _Shepard_.  The decision was almost unanimous; Alenko hadn’t the heart to object.

Now the debate centered on who would crew her.

“I’m the only pilot you got,” Joker was saying, loudly, and often, as they stood before the moonlit ship.  “You’re lucky it’s me too.  This thing is a pile of junk.  It’s going to need skill.”

“Nobody is arguing otherwise.”  Alenko rubbed his forehead.

He folded his arms.  “Well.  Good.”

“You need an engineer.”  Adams frowned.  “Unless you can handle it-“

Alenko shook his head.  “I don’t know anything about antennas.”

“I don’t know that anyone here really does.”

“Excuse me, sir.” 

They looked up as one body, away from the ugly shuttle and toward Ensign Draven, pale and wide-eyed in the moonlight.  Adams spoke first.  “What is it, Ensign?”

She took a deep breath.  “Begging your pardon, but I can fix an antenna.”

“You can?” Alenko asked, not entirely able to keep the skepticism from his voice.  Draven had been unsteady since her wife’s death.  Understandable, but hardly an excuse to take her on a risky mission.

Her eyes went hard.  “Roz and I come from a colonial backwater.  Barely saw a navy patrol twice a year.  I started working at our only comm tower when I was ten years old.”

Adams took a gentler approach.  “I remember.  But a ship antenna is nothing like-“

“ _Excuse me,_ sir.  By the time I was fourteen, I was doing shifts on my own.  Do you think I’d ever been to any fancy tech classes before I signed up?  Do you think when something broke we had a whole storeroom of replacement parts waiting?  We barely had the credits to sow the fields most years.  We got by on whatever I could patch together.”

The scorn in her voice was palpable.  Alenko licked his lips.  “You know this is likely to be a one-way trip? It’s possible we won’t even make orbit.”

She glanced away.  “Roz and I swore, when we were kids, that once we got out of there we’d never have to make do again.  She enlisted because I did, because I wanted to go to school.  I loved machines.  I wanted to learn.  She didn’t want…”

Draven trailed off.  Alenko filled in the rest.  “She didn’t want to leave you behind.”

Talitha nodded, curtly.  She stared into space.  “I can hear her in the storms, calling for me.  We just left her there…”

Joker and Adams exchanged a skeptical glance.  Alenko felt his chest tighten.  _I just left her on the ship…_

“I can fix the antenna.”  Her gaze shifted to Adams, pleading.  “You know I can, sir.  I won’t let us down.”

Adams’ frown deepened.  Alenko shrugged, agreeing to let him make the call.  Reluctantly, he said, “She is the best option from a technical perspective.  Maybe the only one.”

“Corporal Draven never shied from a difficult task, especially when her team was at risk.”  Alenko glanced at Talitha.  “I doubt she would have married someone made of lesser stuff.”

The ensign stood a bit straighter.  Adams sighed. “It’s settled, then.  Who’s the third?”

Alenko folded his arms.  “Me.”

Liara spoke up, for the first time.  “It’s an awful risk.”

Adams shook his head.  “I agree, sir.  You’re needed down here.”

He didn’t budge. “I am not risking another person on this one-in-a-million shot.  I’m not going to ask anyone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.”

“The odds aren’t quite that bad,” Adams said.  “I wouldn’t have signed off on the mission if I thought they were.”

“I’m going.  End of discussion.”

Adams paused, as if considering whether to argue, and took in his expression.  “In that case, we’d better get moving- before another storm rolls in.”

Very few of the crew managed to snag spacesuits of any kind in their hasty evacuation.  Alenko had his hard suit.  For Joker and Draven, they cobbled together a pair of the unarmored breather suits used by the non-marines.  The design was fundamentally the same; a skin-tight suit of layered, webbed elastic coupled with an oxygenated helmet and a recirculation unit mounted on the back.  Enough people had grabbed various pieces of gear during the evacuation to get them equipped properly.  Alenko didn’t trust the atmosphere on the ship to hold, and if they managed to find the antenna, they’d have to go outside.

Liara found him the following day, just as he was packing up the last of the tools they might possibly need.  They were bringing everything they could without taxing the take-off weight.  It had taken most of the night to collect it all.

“You’re determined to do this,” she said.

It wasn’t a question, so he didn’t bother with an answer.  “If nothing else, we should be able to speak with Command.  I’d love to hear them tell us they’re not sending a rescue party in person.”

“Such a cynic.”

“The last two weeks haven’t given me much cause to be anything else.”  He continued packing gear away, without looking up.

“I still can’t believe everything that’s happened myself.  Even losing my mother was… not as shocking.  Half of me keeps expecting to wake up, safe in my lab.”

He closed his eyes.  It was a moment before he could respond.  “I know what you mean.”

“This is a gamble.”

“It was your idea.”  The sally was without passion.  He zipped the bag shut and turned to her.  “Why so little faith now?”

“I… do not think I expected the idea to be realized.”  She licked her lips and folded her hands.  “Kaidan, please don’t leave me alone with this.  Don’t make me carry her by myself.  We haven’t talked much about it but I’m not sure I could stand it.”

Alenko remembered her tentative attempts to reach out, and how he’d always brushed her off, or driven her away with his own frustrated anger.  Liara and Nathaly were close friends.  Possibly Liara had never had a closer friend.  His face heated with traces of shame.  “I… I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean-“

“You don’t have to be sorry.”  And indeed, she didn’t seem to be hurt, or at least not by him.

“We’ll talk when we see each other again.  Ok?”

“I would like that.”  She pulled him into a quick hug, surprising them both, and then took a step back and cleared the way out of the tent.  “Goddess go with you.”

“Thanks.”  Alenko headed to the spaceship, and whatever this morning might bring.

It was just barely dawn again on Alchera, the sun not quite above the horizon but already refracting the earliest of its cold light over the ice plain.  Draven and Joker were waiting.  They’d managed to fit Joker’s leg braces over the suit, which he was cursing lucidly.  Draven, on the other hand, was silent, exhausted behind the plastic curve of her faceplate, but equally determined.  Alenko gave them a nod.

“It’ll launch on autopilot,” Adams said.  He took the final sack of tools from Alenko and stowed it behind the seats.  “Once you’re in orbit, you’ll have limited fuel reserves to find the _Normandy_.”

Alenko glanced inside the ship.  Crude didn’t begin to describe the accommodations.  “Understood.”

“The ship’s radio should be able to reach us, when you’re inside our horizon.  Otherwise-“

“We _know_ ,” Joker sighed, at end of his patience.  “Let’s go, this waiting is killing me.”

Adams frowned but made no objection.  “Alright.  Strap in, and I’ll clear the area.”

Alenko and Draven got Joker settled at what passed for the helm of the _Shepard._ The three couches had been pried from the shuttles and reoriented to face forward, with additional metal struts anchoring extra restraints.  Nobody had been able to get the momentum dampeners to work.  It would be a rocky ride. 

The pilot sat at the front of the craft.  Alenko and Draven sat behind, side-by-side.  She went in first, to be nearest the radio controls, while Alenko would man the jury-rigged ladar on the port side.  He was adjusting the last of his straps and trying to get comfortable- an impossible task- when Adams ducked his head back inside.  “All set here?”

At their affirmatives, he hoisted one final piece of gear into the shuttle.  “Here’s the battery pack.  Remember, when you get to the antenna, you’ll get one good burst from the tight-beam laser.  No more than thirty seconds.  If you’re lucky, the power should last long enough to hear a limited response.”

“I understand,” Alenko repeated, for what seemed like the eighteenth time.  “I know what I’m going to say.”

“Good.  I’ll seal the hatch.  Wait for my call to launch.”

“Roger that,” Joker said, adjusting his control interface.

Alenko looked at Adams.  “The deck is yours.”

Adams watched him soberly for a long moment, as though debating his response, but in the end only said, “Good luck.”

“We’ll be back before you know it.”

He nodded again, and straightened to shut the hatch.  With it, most of the dawn light disappeared.  The only ports on the ship were two small, round windows at the fore.  Even those had been hotly debated during the ship’s construction. 

The three crew members didn’t speak.  They just waited, in the privacy of their own thoughts, in the twilight that had descended on the cabin.  Draven wrapped her small hands about the metal rods of her jump harness and took a deep breath.

Alenko’s mind was empty.  Everything would fall where it would.  He’d done all there was to do, to make this work, to keep these people safe.  Whatever happened now was out of his control.  And if it came to it, there were worse places to die than up there with her and all the other people they’d lost.

It was a somewhat unique feeling- being at peace.  Alenko could rarely accept any of his circumstances and was worry-prone to a fault.  He felt as though he’d passed through the choppy waters of anxiety and into some still pool beyond.  They were at the end.  What was left to concern him?

The radio crackled.  Adams.  “ _Shepard,_ you are clear for take-off.”

“Copy that.”  Joker flipped a switch, and glanced over his shoulder.  “You might want to hold onto your asses with both hands.”

Like all small Alliance craft, they launched horizontally.  Unlike any shuttle Alenko had ever experienced, however, he was thrown back into his seat instantaneously as the engines came to life.  No momentum dampeners for this shoddy vehicle.  The acceleration was absolutely crushing.  Ahead, the ports turned china blue as the ground disappeared into sky. 

Beside him, Draven screamed in surprise.  She silenced herself quickly, but her lips continued to move, almost as if in prayer.  Every so often Joker let out a small grunt of pain.  Alenko wondered if the pilot knew it would be like this- knew and volunteered anyway.  It was the kind of thing Joker would never admit to doing.

The elephant on his chest grew heavier with every passing second and soon he had no concentration to spare for either of his crewmates.  It was so heavy it was almost painful.  It was all he could do to gasp for breath.  He desperately hoped somebody had thought about the design tolerance on the suit-back units that processed their air.  It would be a hell of a thing to make it into orbit only to not be able to go out and fix the antenna due to a busted suit.

The ship shook like it would fly to pieces.  The ports were growing darker, bordering on black.  Any moment now…

Inch by excruciating inch, the pressure eased until eventually it vanished outright and left Alenko floating in his seat.  Gravity generation was likewise beyond their junkyard operation.  He had never once been space sick, but the abruptness of the transition, from hard acceleration to microgravity, made him queasy.  He swallowed thickly and tried to think of something else.

Joker slumped forward in his seat with a drawn-out groan, hanging limply in his harness for a long moment.

Draven reached forward.  “Are you alright?”

“Something’s broken.”  He squirmed.  “Maybe a few somethings.  I’ll hold together.  This piece-of-shit elastic death trap is good for that, at least.”

Alenko didn’t ask whether he was sure.  It didn’t matter.  They all knew this was a one-way trip.  “Do you need anything splinted?”

Chakwas had loaned them one of her medical kits.  But Joker shook his head.  “I need to know where to point us.”

“Right.”  Alenko studied the ladar readings.  There was precious little to report.  Alchera had no artificial satellites, no space wreckage other than the _Normandy_.  “I think we wait.  We’re going a little faster than _Normandy_?”

“Yeah,” Joker said.  “Out altitude is a bit less than _Normandy’s_ last fix.”

“So we should catch up,” said Draven.

“Should is the operative word.”

Alenko glanced from the ladar to the port.  “We’ll catch it.  We just need a little patience.”

The time passed slowly.  Without a satellite to relay it, they could not radio their status to the ground.  The ventilator was loud, hissing and squealing through the makeshift ductwork, and with every slight adjustment of sunlight or shade the metal creaked like an old house drawing its last breath.   There was so little room they were almost sitting in each other’s laps.  Draven pulled her knees up to her chest and sat like that, a ball of a woman hovering in midair, while Joker remained strapped to his couch and Kaidan tried to stretch out his legs without accidentally kicking anyone else.  

They waited in silence, only speaking to make a remark about the status of the ship or to speculate on when they might pass the _Normandy_ , along with the occasional bout of Joker’s nervous nattering.  There was little enough to discuss.

Their breath fogged the air in the cold of the cabin.  Not so cold they were at risk of freezing, but enough to be uncomfortable.  It had a different quality from the cold of Alchera’s surface; this cold was hollow and vast as the vacuum beyond their hull.  Alenko tried to not dwell on what they might discover when they reached the ship.  There was no telling what condition it was in, whether they’d be able to salvage enough to work the antenna, or what might remain of the people they left behind.  He distracted himself by fiddling with the ladar, adjusting the resolution, testing it by pinging it off the bulk of the planet. 

At this altitude, a full orbit took just under two hours.  They were relying on Joker and Adams’ assumptions that the _Normandy’s_ orbit would not have decayed significantly since the attack, and that the attack would not have significantly altered its heading.  Otherwise they’d never find the ship.  The mood in the cabin grew perceptibly bleaker as they came up on the 114 minute mark with no sign of the frigate.

Finally, just a few minutes shy of completion, Joker cleared his throat.  “We can try some small adjustments.  I can probably back out where the _Normandy_ was likely to go based on the angle of the attack.”

“A shot in the dark,” Draven said.  She sounded resigned.

“Do you have a better idea?”

Alenko stared at his screen, pleading with it silently.  They were way overdue for some kind of break. 

Draven pulled herself up behind Joker’s couch, peering over his shoulder.  “If we’re going to do this, we should radio the camp while we have-“

“I’ve got something,” Alenko said, almost too quietly, his mouth suddenly gone dry.  Hope seemed like a dangerous thing.

Both of them turned towards his ladar console.  Joker’s brow furrowed.  “Don’t spit it out all at once, L.T.”

The little blip grew stronger as he watched.  He entered a query.  _Of course the ship’s signature won’t be recognizable, not anymore, but Nathaly launched the beacon- I should be able to see it._ Distress beacons put out signals in many wavelengths.  He glanced at Joker.  “Check the emergency frequencies.”

“Checking.”  He twiddled the control.  After a moment, a hash of electronic noise filled the cabin, at nearly the same instant a strong blip joined the one already on Alenko’s screen, nearly occulting it with its intensity.  Joker’s eyes went wide. “I’ll be damned.”

Alenko shifted over, joining Draven in looking down at Joker’s console.  “Are you getting anything from that?”

He cut the sound and typed rapidly.  “Yeah- yeah, it’s definitely from the _Normandy_.  It can’t be far from the ship either.”

Alenko shut his eyes, a moment of relief.  “We must have been leading the ship rather than chasing it.  Close in on that beacon.”

“Way ahead of you.” 

Ten minutes later, the wreckage came into view.  The excitement of locating the ship faded instantly. 

Draven’s mouth dropped open.  “Holy crap.”

“You can say that twice,” Joker muttered. 

The frigate was in three pieces, two large and one smaller, with all kinds of scrap dancing in the spaces between.  It rattled against their tiny shuttle like rain- Joker carefully matching the speed of the wreck to avoid calamity.  Scorch marks decorated the white hull here and there where flammable conveyances within the walls had exploded.  It was barely possible to see that it had once been the ship they all knew so well, the one that carried them through so much.

Alenko found his voice.  The only thing to do was focus on the task at hand.  “Where’s our best bet to find that antenna?”

Draven pushed her hair out of her eyes.  It drifted above her head, a fuzzy nebula.  “The whole communications suite was mounted top aft- over the comm room.”

“A lot of that’s gone,” Joker noted.  Indeed, the whole upper section of the _Normandy_ appeared to be missing its roof.

Alenko cut that short.  “We need to get a look at what’s left.”

They all stared out the port as the pilot nosed them carefully through the field of debris.  Alenko tried not to let his imagination run away with him- tried not to picture Nathaly wide-eyed and frozen stiff behind each obstacle they nudged aside.  She was out here somewhere, a kind of electricity in his veins, and he could not have said which was worse, that they might find her body, or that they might not.

Joker settled the shuttle beside the remains of the ship and they sealed their helmets to their suits.  It took only a few minutes to vent the cabin.  Alenko waited a moment longer, and lifted the hatch. 

Ice condensed over the various surfaces of the shuttle interior.  With so much of the hull swung up out of sight, there seemed almost no boundary between the three fragile humans and the universe beyond.  The sun was behind them now.  It cast a cold and eerie light over the corpse of the frigate.  The ship’s name stood out still, in scarred black letters, pockmarked by tears and holes left by the explosion.

The aft section of fuselage, however, had torn away from the rest and floated freely.  The vertical stabilizer had ripped loose.  Two of the lower decks were exposed to the elements where the bulk of the _Normandy_ had broken off, leaving ragged beams and wires dangling in the dark.

Alenko and Draven tied ropes about their waists, securing them to the shuttle.  Joker remained in his couch.  Carefully, the pair went to the hatch, one after the other, and jumped out towards the _Normandy._

Alenko reached the hull easily and pulled himself to a stop using the damage as improvised handholds.  He got his feet under him and let the mag boots get a firm grip before giving Draven a thumb’s up.

The engineer was not quite as skilled at zero gee maneuvers.  Alenko had to reach out and snag her as she went sailing by.  Though she was in no real danger, no one was eager to prolong this errand.  She gave him a nod of thanks. 

Ropes trailing behind them, they made their way aft.  Draven felt around with her boot, cautiously, until she found an area where it wouldn’t stick.  She knelt and brushed dirt from the hull.  “Here’s the radome panel.  Help me pry it up.”

It turned out to be quite a large section of the aft bulkhead.  They each took a wrench and a mallet and got to work.  Many of the bolts were damaged by the hard use the ship had seen, and had wedged into their sockets.  It took a bit of force to get them loose.  Alenko was also paranoid about losing one of the tools with an ill-timed strike.  It was slow work.

Then the radome itself was wedged into place.  The grip of their mag boots was only strong enough to walk; it wasn’t much for bracing against the hull and prying out a stubborn sheet of composite.  Both of them tumbled off more than once and had to reel back in using their ropes.  Finally, Alenko found a way to loop his leg through an exposed beam, giving him enough leverage to wrench one corner free.  From there, the rest lifted out easily.  They allowed it to drift away.

Draven wasted no time floating down into the instrument chamber.  Like most warships, particularly ISR ships, the _Normandy_ carried a veritable forest of sensors.  Even Alenko was a bit lost, looking at it all.  Draven had no such difficulty.  She went straight for the antenna system that comprised the _Normandy’s_ tight-beam laser transmitter as well as the equipment to receive such signals.  The galactic communications system used these transmissions to link into the FTL comm buoy network, which made use of both small devices produced by modern factories as well as the ancient mass relays that could transmit entire ships as well as their messages.  Alenko found the physics of FTL communications rather more difficult to follow than that of FTL travel, even if deep down it was all the same thing. 

In the case of Amada System, uninhabited and deep within the Terminus, there were no comm buoys- only the primary relay, several light-hours away.  Even if they succeeded in making contact with Alliance Command, they would have to wait some time for a response.  He only hoped the batteries would hold.

“Do you know what’s wrong?” Alenko asked, after ten minutes had passed without Draven speaking so much as a word.

She was studying the diagnostic output on her omni-tool.  “Well, the ship’s VI is non-functional, so that’s a bit difficult to work around.”

“Not surprising.”

“No,” she said.  “But this is.”

She held up the display to him.  His brow furrowed as he read it.  “There’s still power going to the instruments?”

“Most of them.  Fire in the ship’s battery must have caused the explosion.  The drive core’s very well protected- for obvious reasons.”

Alenko remembered standing in the battery with Shepard, waving the useless fire extinguishers, far too small an effort against the sheets of fire licking up _Normandy’s_ walls.

“The VI servers had to be destroyed, or at best, the lines from there to the aft of the ship here were severed,” Draven continued.  “But the core- the power lines- enough of those are intact.  The comm room’s over the drive core, and we’re on top of that.  It makes sense.”

“I guess if the drive core had gone there wouldn’t even be dust left here,” Alenko conceded, more than a little disturbed that this was the first time the possibility had crossed his mind.

“It was never very likely.  It would be a detriment to the navy if every ship that went down in a battle became a localized thermonuclear incident.”  She moved to a control box and reached for a screwdriver secured in her utility belt.  “I would have expected it to shut down, though.”

“Wouldn’t the VI control that?”

“Nominally, yes, but there are also local controls in the drive core room.” 

“So all we have to do is link into the antenna and send our message?”  This was going to be easier than he thought.

“I thought so, but now I’m not sure.”  She peered into the control box with a frown.  “We’ve got power coming to this area, but none of it is reaching the antenna.”

Alenko floated down beside her to take a look for himself.  “It doesn’t look damaged.”

“Something clearly is.”  The look she gave him bordered on mocking, as if he couldn’t possibly have said anything more obvious.  She turned her frustration on the instrument.  “It won’t respond to any of my instructions to power up.  I can’t even get the terminal screen to come online, much less input the codes.”

“Maybe there’s a loose connection?” he hazarded.

Draven jerked her head towards the floor.  “Check, if you like.”

He decided she clearly didn’t want or need his input, and pulled himself down into the subfloor, looking for disconnected cables, or anything else that might have short-circuited the power.  His rope tangled on the instruments several times.  He tugged on it with irritation.

Finding no damage, he said over the comm, “I’m going to have a look at the lower decks.  Be back in a few minutes.”

“Copy that.”

He crawled out of the instrument bay and down the ragged fore of this section, following the antenna’s power cable.  It wasn’t a single line so much as a sheathed bundle of wiring as thick as his wrist, a dedicated power supply for the instrument suite’s most high-powered piece of equipment.  The comm room fared worse than above.  Debris clogged the space.  He couldn’t have crawled inside even if he wanted to. 

Much of the engine room was gone as well.  The cable disappeared into the deck, behind a mass of panels jamming the path to the drive core.  With a bit of patient work, he was able to loosen one of them, and the rest sprung free, like removing a keystone from an arch.  He brushed them out of the way.

The deck beneath was fractured in several places- probably from bending when the rest of the _Normandy_ broke off in the explosion.  It wasn’t hard to pry up the floor tiles to get a look at the cable tray.  The floor was designed for maintenance.  It took him a few moments to relocate the correct cable, and once he had, he found the problem almost immediately.

Alenko stared impassively at the torn bundle of cabling, and heaved a sigh.  “Draven.”

“Go ahead.”

“The cable’s ripped apart.  The floor buckled and took it out.”  He could have screamed.  Many of the lines were intact, but not, of course, the one they needed.

“Damn it.”  She sighed as well.  “Is it repairable?”

He gave it a glance.  Alenko would bet all the credits in his accounts back on Earth that the end connected to the drive core was live.  There was enough current in that line to kill an elephant.  “Negative.  We don’t have the equipment.”

“I’m coming down.”

He rolled his eyes- he might not have her special training, but he knew an impossible engineering project when he saw one.  She was intractable when it came to doubting his technical opinion.  But they had plenty of air, and still plenty of time, and it wouldn’t hurt anything to let her take a look.

He showed her what he found.  “There’s no way we can touch that live end.  We just don’t have the insulation in the suits, and none of the special gear we’d need.”

Draven crossed her arms.  The gesture looked more than a little ridiculous in microgravity.  When she made no comment, he asked, “Could we transfer power from one of the other lines?”

She shook her head, once.  “They can’t carry anywhere near enough amperage.  We’d never get the laser powered up, not even for a weak burst.”

He suppressed a sigh, and reached for a little optimism.  “This is really a blessing.  We’ve got a good wire here, on the dead end, to hook the batteries into.  I can get them from the shuttle and we can be done.  Hell of a lot easier than what I was expecting.”

Draven continued to stare at the broken cable.  He cleared his throat.  “I’ll just head back to the shuttle, then-“

“No.”  She shook her head.

His patience with her attitude wore out at last.  “Do you see any other solution, Ensign?”

She shook her head a second time.  “Not one you’ll like.”

“What in the hell are you-“

“We can reconnect the cable,” she interrupted, flatly.  “I can reconnect it.”

At first he was confused, and then he was angry.  “I’m not allowing that.”

“I don’t believe I requested your permission, sir.”

“I know you’re upset after what happened to Rosamund-“

“Don’t you dare bring Roz into this.”  Her mouth was full of acid.  “You put her on that shuttle.”

He sagged and ran his hand over his faceplate.  “Anyone could have gotten on that shuttle, Talitha,” Alenko said gently.  “It was just damn rotten luck that was the one she boarded.”

She took a breath and moved back on topic.  “We didn’t expect to still have power.”

“We _don’t_ have power.  The cable is severed.”

“You could have a real conversation,” she continued steadily.  “Not a thirty-second distress call that might or might not make it to Command.  Not some hail mary pass they could choose to ignore, like they ignored our disappearance.  Not some thin hope that we’ll have enough juice in the batteries to hear a single reply.  If they won’t listen, you’d be able to contact Anderson, or the Council, or anyone you think might help.”

“We’re not talking about this.  It’ll kill you.  I won’t let you do that.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“I’m in command of this mission.  And now I’m ordering you to go get the batteries.”

“No, sir.”

He took in her iron expression, suppressed his exasperation, and tried a compromise.  “Let’s power down the core, then.  We reconnect the cable and bring it back online.”

“There’s a good chance it wouldn’t come back online.”

“Then we’ll use the batteries.”  He shook his head.  “I won’t debate this any further.  This isn’t a suicide mission.  You won’t turn it into one.”

“Isn’t it?” she shot back.  “We took a one-way trip in a jury-rigged shuttle- it’s a miracle we made it this far.  The ship could have been obliterated but it wasn’t.  The power could be gone, but it isn’t.  Everyone on the ground is going to die if we don’t succeed.  Everyone who’s already dead would’ve died for nothing.”

He thought about Shepard, sending Joker on alone.  Floating frozen in dark, just out of sight of where they stood. 

Her mouth was a thin stubborn line.  A moment’s anger flashed through him- catalyzed by Talitha’s intractability, but not really directed at her so much as this whole catastrophe, at the fucking broken cable and the wreckage and the unknown ship that did it, at Rosamund for getting on that shuttle and himself for putting her on it, at Joker and Liara and Nathaly herself, for making this so much harder than it needed to be.

But she wasn’t here, and he still had a job to finish.  So he took a deep breath, forced calm, and tried another tact.  “I know your wife is gone.  If you think I don’t understand what that means, you’re crazy.  But it’s not the end.  You said you came from a colony.  Surely you still have family there, friends-”

Her laugh was very bitter.  “My colony has less than a hundred people, and we left.  My aunt called me a traitor, right to my face.  You ever been that person?  Or how about enlisting with the Alliance when everyone who raised you moved to a tiny ag colony in the middle of nowhere to get _away_ from the Alliance?”

Alenko couldn’t hold her gaze.  Her voice lost its harsh edge.  “No, there’s nothing left for me there.”

“We’ve already lost so many people.”  He hadn’t meant to say it out loud.  Even if he had, he certainly hadn’t intended it to sound so forlorn. 

Draven pulled herself towards him and touched his arm, tentative.  “I know you do understand, what Shepard meant to you.  And we both know all we have left are the people waiting on the ground.  I can give them a better chance.  I want to.”

“I can’t let you do that.”  But the way he said it, lacking force, was an admission of defeat.

“I have the engineering codes you’ll need to power up the antenna.”  She opened her omni-tool.  “You can accept them from me now, or you can wait until the next pass over the camp and get them from Adams.”

The unspoken choice was whether to accept what she was doing- to be a part of it, enabling it, by taking those codes.  He probably could stop her if it came down to it.  He had training for personal combat in zero gee and he was a marine- most of the engineers did the bare minimum of PT after they got through basic.

But that was the real reason he wanted to, wasn’t it?  There was an unspoken agreement among the marines that they were here to protect the rest of the crew.  They stood between them and danger, not the other way around.  They were the heroes and the others were the bystanders.  The rest of the crew hated it, of course, which was why it went unspoken- but the attitude lingered all the same.

Draven was volunteering to be a hero.  Her reasons weren’t any crazier than anyone else’s.  And it wasn’t like she was wrong about just how much a fully functional antenna increased their odds of survival.

Alenko opened a port on his omni-tool.

Once the transfer completed, she looked up.  “Now go back to the shuttle.  I’m not interested in an audience.”

Alenko didn’t know what to say.  Thank you seemed inappropriate; she wasn’t doing it for him, and he hadn’t asked it of her.  Good luck was distasteful.  He saluted her.  “I hope you find whatever you’re expecting.”

The tiniest of fleeting smiles, as if he’d amused her with the backwards gesture.  But she still returned it.  “Me too.”

Alenko pulled himself back to the shuttle using the rope, and shut the hatch.  Joker had dozed off while they worked.  It wasn’t that surprising; it had been a long few weeks, it was quite cold in the cabin, and there was nothing for the pilot to do while they worked.  Not to mention Alenko was certain he’d broken a few ribs on the ascent, at a minimum. 

“Where’s Draven?” Joker asked.

“Not coming.”  Alenko wished he had something more to say about it.  He had finally reached the point at which everything was too awful to process in any meaningful way.

Joker, however, sat up in his seat and raised his voice. “Not coming?”

“She made a choice.  I tried to talk her out of it, but I think she made it when she saw what happened to Rosamund.  It just took her awhile to work out the details.”  He hit the switch to re-pressurize the cabin.  “We should have the antenna soon.”

Joker started to say something, but for once in his life thought better of it- or at least decided to save it for another time.  “But the batteries-“

“The drive core’s still limping along.”

His eyes went wide.  “So we can really talk to the Alliance?”

“It’ll be a bit stilted with the time delay, but yes.”

“It’s about time we caught a break.”

“We didn’t catch it.  Talitha Draven bought it for us.”

/\/\/\/\/\

It took the Alliance several days to reach them.

Alenko and Joker passed the time holed up aboard the shuttle.  Joker pointed them nose-down so they could look out over the planet as they circled it, over and over.  They called into camp whenever they were positioned to do so just to break up the monotony.  Every three calls, they ate something.  It lent a tempo to their waiting. 

They stayed away from delicate topics.  They spoke at length about the strange ship which had attacked them.  Alliance Command was convinced it was the geth- in their eyes, what else could it be?  But the _Normandy_ crew was quite familiar with geth ships and knew better.  Neither of them had ever seen anything like it, and Joker’s knowledge of adversarial ships was encyclopedic. 

All the same, they were glad to get the Alliance hail the afternoon of the fourth day.  “ _Normandy_ , this is the _SSV Cairo_ , do you copy, over?”

Alenko pressed the comm switch.  “ _Cairo_ , this is _Normandy_.  We read you loud and clear, and let me tell you, it’s a very welcome sound.”

“They sent a cruiser?”  Joker was mildly impressed.

“Guess they thought they might need a little firepower out here.”

The comm crackled.  “Likewise, _Normandy_.  What’s your status?”

“We’ve got two people in orbit, and another eighteen on the ground.  Standby for coordinates.”  At his nod, Joker sent their location data electronically.

A few moments passed.  “Roger, _Normandy_ , we are en route for pick up.  Sit tight.”

Fifteen minutes after that, they were ingested into the _Cairo’s_ shuttle bay.  Alenko sat blinking in the clean white light.  He’d been in a dozen shuttle bays and somehow this one managed to look completely alien. 

A couple of the deck hands popped their hatch- and immediately shielded their noses with their hands.  It was four weeks to the day since the attack.  Bathing facilities had been limited.

Alenko stepped out onto the deck.  All around him, men and women of the Alliance were going about their duties, securing the bay hatch, trying to figure out what to do with their frankenshuttle, going to the comm to inform the CIC of the successful retrieval.  A few paused to stare, but not as many as he’d thought.

He took a few steps forward and stopped.  It hit him all at once that it was over.  There was nothing, absolutely nothing, left for him to do.  Alenko stood in place and stared out at the bay.

“Sir?”

It took him a moment to realize the corporal was addressing him.  “Yes?”

“I said, the captain’s waiting for you.”  The way he said indicated that the message had already been repeated several times.  “Follow me, please.”

He trailed behind the young man on autopilot.  Alenko wasn’t familiar with the _Cairo_.  If he’d ever known the name of her skipper, it wasn’t coming to mind.  But they didn’t head for the CIC.  Instead, he was escorted to a passageway lined with private quarters, for the senior officers of the ship.  They stopped before a nondescript hatch.  That was odd; most of the hatches were labeled with the title of each officer.

“Whenever you’re ready,” the corporal said.

Alenko licked his lips and tagged the haptic panel.  The hatch parted down the middle and slid smoothly into the bulkhead.

Anderson turned.  “Lieutenant.”

His mouth went dry. 

“There’s no need to gape.”  He gestured forward.  “Come in.”

Alenko walked into the room.  The hatch shut behind him just as silently. 

Anderson looked him over.  “I understand you’ve been through quite the ordeal.”

“Captain.  Councilor.”  His brain seemed to not want to work.  He pulled himself to attention. “Sir.”

“At ease.”  He raised an eyebrow.  “Wondering what I’m doing here?”

“A little, yes.”  Another snatch of memory- _Do you know what I went through with Anderson to keep you on this ship?_

Anderson chuckled.  A little bit more of the color drained from Alenko’s face at the sound.  Anderson said, “The Council… the rest of it I mean… wasn’t keen on this trip.  Their laws prohibit us from interfering directly with the Terminus Systems.”

Alenko nodded.  Most of the navy already suspected that particular statute was mostly read as “if you do, don’t get caught”.  But there was no real way to hide a cruiser lacking in any stealth capability. 

Anderson continued, “I had to spend what little political capital I’ve gathered these last few months.  But once we knew there were survivors, well.”

“Not all of us survived.”  The words seemed to come from someone else.  Everything in him was trying to flee what was coming, but he was tied to it with iron cords.  _He thinks of her like a daughter._

“So I gathered.”  Anderson squinted at him.  For the first time, his congenial demeanor faltered.  “What is it you want to tell me?”

His hands slid behind his back.  He lifted his chin.  “I couldn’t get her out.”

Anderson’s face closed up like a mask.  There was absolutely nothing there to read.  Alenko took a shallow breath.  “I tried to talk her out of it.  She wouldn’t listen.  I’m sorry.”

Anderson turned away for a long moment.  His voice, when he spoke, came from a long way off. “Thank you for that.”

Alenko wanted to stop talking, but found he couldn’t, not in the face of that silence.  “She ordered me to go.  I didn’t know what to do.”

He slowly spun back around.  His speech continued to be lethargic, heavy, each phrase carefully chosen.  “She never would listen to anybody.  It’s not your fault.”

“Sir.”  Alenko didn’t trust himself to be able to say more than that.

Anderson ran his hand over his face.  It had only been a minute, but he seemed ten years older than when Alenko entered the room.  “Who else?”

“Pressly.  Most of the marines.  A lot of engineering.”  He cleared his throat, their faces streaming through his mind.  Chase.  Draven.  “I can give you the full list-“

“Later.”  He held up his hand.  “I’ll relay orders to the CIC to land and collect what’s left of the crew.”

Alenko recalled then that Anderson had hand-picked most of the crew- known and served with a number of the deceased for years, far longer than the six months he’d known them.  “If it’s all the same, sir, I’m dead on my feet.”

“Of course.  I won’t keep you.”  Anderson seemed just as relieved by the subtle offer of privacy. 

Alenko saluted, and took his leave.  Each step echoed through the empty hall.  He had thought, if their mission succeeded, if they secured a rescue and saved the crew, he’d be happy- or at least satisfied.  But it wasn’t enough, and he realized in that moment it never would be.


	60. "They All Go Into the Dark"

“Lieutenant Alenko, you have a guest waiting.”

Alenko started awake, banging the back of his skull against the rim of the bathtub in the process.  He groaned and gingerly touched the growing bruise.  His eyes felt full of sand.  “Wh- what?”

The placid voice of the apartment building’s VI did not waver.  “Good morning, sir.  Dr. Liara T’Soni requests entry to the residence.”

He glanced around the bathroom and tried to get his bearings.  His clothes were rumpled past any excuse and every bone was aching.  The air was uncomfortably cold.  He couldn’t remember if he’d set the thermostat that way, or if it had adjusted itself in the night.  Sitting up a bit higher, he ran his hand over his face, trying to wake up.  It came away greasy.  “Let her in.”

“Affirmative.”

Alenko heard a click from the front room as the hatch unlocked, followed by footsteps.  She called for him and he managed to croak some reply.  A few moments later, the bathroom door slid aside.  He squinted as Zakera Ward’s artificial sunlight spilled across the tile in a rectangular block.

Liara stepped inside, all business in a long blue and black dress.  “The funeral’s starting in- oh, goddess.”

She stared.  He rubbed at his eyes and looked away.  “I’m not going.”

She ignored that for the moment.  “Why are you in the bathtub?”

He covered his mouth to prevent a yawn from escaping.  It felt as though he’d done nothing but sleep the last several days, since the _Cairo_ docked at the Citadel, and yet he was still exhausted.  “No furniture.”

They’d planned to rent some- he was going to take care of it in the afternoon between getting dropped off on the station and reporting to the Alliance dock and his new ship.  So far he hadn’t gotten around to it.  When the _Cairo_ made port, Alenko had come here, because it was already paid up and because there was nobody around to bother him.  After weeks and weeks of oppressive concern from the _Normandy_ crew and strangers alike, solitude was a breath of fresh air.  Liara must have done quite a bit of detective work to find him.

She covered her nose, delicately, and went to the medicine cabinet.  It was as bare as the rest of the place.  “You slept in the bathtub but couldn’t be bothered to use it?”

He ran his fingers through his hair.  It stood up on end in their wake.  “What day is it?”

“It’s Saturday.”  She gave the three empty liquor bottles laying on the tile a pointed glance.  “The funeral is in one hour.  I came to collect you.  I thought we might go over together.”

“I’m not going,” he stated for the second time. 

“We’ve got to get you cleaned up.”  She opened her omni-tool and interfaced with the nearest store.  “I can rush order some things to make you presentable.  We’ll have to get you proper clothes somehow-“

Alenko raised his voice.  “I am not going.”

Liara finally seemed to hear it.  She blinked.  “You can’t mean that.”

He made a helpless gesture.  “What is the point?  They didn’t even bring her body back.” The _Cairo_ had not cared to linger within the Terminus Systems collecting the remains of those who perished in orbit.  “It’s a massive farce.  And it’s sick.  This isn’t- they’re making it into entertainment.  It’s tragedy porn.  I won’t be part of it.”

“It’s closure,” she said.  “I am an archaeologist.  You might say I’m a professional student of culture.  We all have this in common- Prothean, krogan, human, asari- we all have ways of honoring and remembering the dead.  Why do you think that is?”

“I honestly couldn’t give a damn.”

“You’re going.”  There was a firmness he’d rarely heard from Liara.

Before he could make another argument, the VI interrupted.  “You have received a delivery.”

Liara shot him an exasperated glance and left the room.  He lay back again in the tub and shut his eyes.  Everything was too loud and bright and the ceiling wouldn’t stop spinning.

He yelped as something thudded onto his stomach.  It was a bag of toiletries- toothpaste, shaving cream, shampoo.  Liara folded her arms.  “Now I’m going out to find you formalwear.  I expect you to be clean when I return.”

“I’m not going.”  But it sounded feeble, even to him.  She’d swept away his willpower in a tide of authority.

“I doubt you will need these.”  She bent and collected the bottles in one fluid movement.  The last of them sloshed gently.

He grasped after it.  “That one’s still got some left-“

“Which you won’t be drinking this afternoon.”  Liara glanced at the time.  “We need to hurry.  I’ll try not to take long.”

And with that, she swept from the room, leaving him alone in the apartment, gaping after her. 

His mouth felt like the inside of a boot.  All of a sudden he found it impossible to ignore.  He wasn’t going to the funeral, he told himself stubbornly, but it wouldn’t kill him to brush his teeth.

The simple act seemed to take a geologic eon.  The brush was foreign in his mouth, large and awkward and unpleasant.  She’d ordered him some product that tasted faintly of pineapple and clearly wasn’t produced by humans; he guessed it was more popular among asari than peppermint paste.  Then he found the bar of soap, washed and shaved his face, and fumbled for a towel.  Which was the point he realized that there wasn’t so much as a dishcloth anywhere in the apartment.

The small problem had the effect of killing any momentum he might have acquired from the proceeding tasks.  From his position it seemed insurmountable, in the same way acquiring bedding or food had seemed impossible tasks since he’d arrived.  He couldn’t even begin to break down how to solve it.  Alenko slid down the wall across from the sink until he was on the floor, his legs stretched out toward the pedestal, and put his head in his hands.  All he wanted was to go back to sleep.  Life didn’t happen while he was asleep.

It could’ve been a few hours or only a few minutes before Liara returned, holding a garment bag.  She scowled.  “Goddess, you must be kidding me.”

He raised his head until he could see her towering over him like a thunderhead.  He meant to tell her about the towel problem, but even talking seemed like more effort than he had to give.  So they simply watched each other.

Her brow furrowed.  She hung the bag off the shower rod, let out a sigh, and sank down beside him, wiping away a stray blob of shaving cream.  “What’s wrong?  Aside from the obvious.”

“There aren’t any towels,” he said, dully, dropping his gaze.

Liara folded her arms over her knees.  “Have you had anything to eat, or were you drinking all your meals?”

“I ordered pizza.”

“I saw the box lying open in the other room.  There weren’t any slices missing.”

He fiddled with his hands.  “There was a joke on the box.”

“What?”

“There was a joke printed on the inside of the lid.  Some kind of promotion, I guess.”  His fingers flicked against his pant leg, picking at a loose thread, not looking up.  “It was a stupid two-liner about a car chase.  But it was exactly the kind of silly junk that would make her laugh so I was trying to memorize it, to tell her later, when I caught myself.  Then I wasn’t very hungry.”

“Kaidan…”

His head rolled back towards her.  He didn’t bother to try to conceal the grief, or the exhaustion written on his face.  “I don’t want to go, Liara.  I don’t want to listen to a bunch of people who never gave a damn about her talk about their loss when what they really mean is it sure will be a pain in the ass finding another spectre.”

“I don’t want to go either,” Liara said.  She reached over and stilled his hand with her own.  “But I know if I don’t, I’m going to look back six months from now and I wish I took this opportunity to say goodbye.”

He made no response.  She got to her feet and held out her hand.  “So what do you say?  Everyone’s been asking for you.”

After a long hesitation, he reluctantly allowed her to haul him to his feet.  She sniffed at him and peeled off the long gloves that accompanied her dress.  “Well, there’s no help for it, not in the time we have left, but I think we can remedy the worst of the damage.”

He didn’t resist as she bent him over the sink and washed out his hair, and dried it with his dirty shirt.  In other circumstances it would have been humiliating; right now, he lacked the strength to care one way or the other.  He’d been preoccupied with basic survival on Alchera.  Nathaly had snuck into his thoughts, pervasively, but being marooned was a halfway decent distraction.  Since returning to the Citadel, he’d had nothing but time.

It was impossible to believe she’d been dead a month already.  More often than not he had difficulty remembering she was dead at all.  If he closed his eyes, he could see her standing in the flames in the battery, her whole face a scowl.  The six marines jumping into their doomed shuttle, Chase lying on the floor of the tent.  Talitha Draven disappearing into the dark.

Liara handed him the garment bag.  “Get dressed.  If we hurry, we should still be able to slip in the back.”

And then she left him to his privacy, the hatch snicking shut behind her. 

Alenko fished a comb out of the supply of toiletries and ran it through his still-damp hair.  Then he applied a liberal amount of deodorant, and crawled into the suit.  It was black, and didn’t fit particularly well, though not so badly that he’d make a scene.  Liara thought to include shoes, but not socks, so he tucked his bare feet into them and considered it the lesser of evils, given the state of his only pair.

Liara smoothed the front of his jacket fussily as he stepped out of the bathroom.  “I called for a cab while I was waiting.  It should be here now.”

The clock blinked over to 1300 hours just as the cab took flight.  It was ten minutes to the Presidium, and another five to zip along the ring to the auditorium, a stone-clad hall located beside a broad passageway where the Presidium kept memorials for their dead.  Working in the wards a month ago, Alenko had found the geth devastation overwhelming.  Now he barely noted it as they flew past.

The funeral was a rather large affair.  Regardless of the controversy surrounding the fall of the _Destiny Ascension_ , Shepard was still credited with saving the Citadel from certain destruction.  It was impossible to forget while the ruins remained all around them.  And that was aside from the high regard humanity held for her; she stopped the geth ravaging the Traverse, a bona fide human hero.  And the way she died- a so-called geth attack on the edges of civilization, followed by a harrowing rescue- didn’t do anything to diminish the drama of her story.

Thus, her funeral would have little to nothing to do with her.  It was about public mourning and a show of carrying on.  Alenko thought it was just as well they didn’t have Nathaly’s body.  If anything would overcome the repose of death, it would be the government wringing one last good political mile from her corpse.  He doubted that would play well on the vids.

They’d at least had the decency- or common sense- not to allow press into the funeral itself.  All of the notables were already inside and the small herd of reporters had settled in to wait.  Nobody noticed the two of them walk up the steps, identify to the security guard, and slip inside.

It was a full house.  Some senior navy chaplain, somber in her uniform, was reading out her opening remarks.  Alenko had braced himself for the portrait, knew it would be there, knew it would probably be Nathaly’s service portrait which didn’t even look a little like her except for the tiny smirk she’d snuck in between the warning and flash.  He hadn’t expected the empty casket beside it with the flag draped over top. 

The sight was a little too real.  He didn’t even notice that he’d paused in the middle of the aisle until Liara tugged his arm and led him to a few empty chairs in the second to last row.

They earned a reproachful glare from the couple in the next seat over.  Those two were in formalwear, not Alliance, and Alenko had no earthly idea who they were to merit an invitation to this.  Nathaly would hate that, too.  She lived in public, but was at the same time intensely private, and there should be an intimacy to a funeral, a sense of shared grief, that was utterly absent.  The general mood was one of bored attention.

The chaplain stepped back and relinquished her mic.  Admiral Hackett took the podium.

He spent a moment squaring his datapad on the slanted wooden surface, ignoring the anticipatory silence of the audience, their impatience beneath him.  When he did finally speak, it was subdued, too quiet to believe it carried as well as it did, but his voice filled that room like ink in water.  “The first time I met Commander Shepard, I thought she was a complete mess.”

People sat up a little straighter in their chairs.  That was not all polite.  It didn’t fit the mythology.  “She’d just spun out on the galactic news, and she came into the ambassador’s office cursing, insouciant, slouching.  A few weeks before that she intentionally leaked Saren Arterius’ identity to the public.  She went beyond not caring who she pissed off; she seemed to actively enjoy it.”

It wasn’t the speech Alenko was expecting, either.  He remembered that first meeting with Hackett, just after Feros.  She’d been riding the victory high and had been even more careless than usual about her tongue. 

“Spectres are nominated by other spectres.  Though they often come out of the various military traditions of the galaxy, those militaries- including the Alliance Navy- don’t have much say in whose name goes up.  That never meant we’d given up on oversight.”  There was a nervous titter, as though people were embarrassed by laughter in this setting.  “I’d come to the Citadel to deliver a stinging lecture on propriety to an off-the-leash marine.  But she had a… a manner about her.  A cocky irreverence that seemed to infect everyone in her vicinity.  Instead of yelling, I left laughing.”

_Her hair spilled over the pillow in a ripple of red, a careless laugh bubbling out of her throat.  Pressing forward and sealing her mouth to his.  We’ll miss our shuttle, he said.  Her smile felt more than seen.  “Just a little longer…”_

Alenko was shaking so badly from trying to hold himself impassive that the chair shifted.  He lay his hands on his knees and curled his fingers into the cloth, shoulders aching, throat tight.

Hackett continued.  “That was characteristic of my association with her.  She’d do something in violation of protocol, and after we spoke, I’d spend half the night wondering why we had that particular protocol in the first place.  I came to believe that there is good reason for spectres to be promoted outside the confines of navy restrictions.  We don’t excel at rewarding individualism, or non-conformity.

Liara caught sight of Alenko, shriveled up on himself, silent and shaking, no color to his face.  She was alarmed.

“Shepard was a marine’s marine, the kind who could not only lead men into battle but hold her own beside them.  While I’m new to Citadel notions, I would guess she was also a spectre’s spectre- the kind of woman who saw the job through, and did her duty, regardless of obstacles or the costs, and regardless of public opinion.  Her dedication was extraordinary.  It is to no one’s surprise that she died attempting to fully evacuate her ship, to ensure none of her people were left behind.”

Alenko had pictured the explosion so many times that all of the possibilities blurred together into one horrific slide-show.  Had she burned to death?  Suffocated?  Something in between- battered and burnt, in pain, waiting for either her injuries or the slow decay of her air filtration to catch up to her?

Nobody had wanted to risk spending time searching for the bodies.  Odds of success were low, with the debris spread so widely, and being so far out into the Terminus Systems made everyone itchy.  He would never know how she died.  He’d never know how bad it was, or how long she waited.

He’d never know what that one moment of his carelessness did to her.  His stomach was clenched and hard and sick.

Hackett seemed impossibly far away.  “It was in that manner that Commander Shepard served all of the people of the galaxy, whether colonists on a world forgotten by all but corporate vultures, or salarian soldiers from a unit that was not her own.” 

Alenko remembered her skidding into that cooling pond, almost daring the geth to shoot her.  He never felt so elated and terrified at the same time.  It was too much.  He couldn’t sit here, couldn’t look at this a moment longer.  It was like suffocation.  He began to rise-

And then Liara grabbed his hand, and held it tightly in both of hers.  A life raft.

His glance was half-startled, because he’d quite forgotten she was there, and half-grateful, to not be drowning alone.  She looked just as stricken, just as wordless.  He gripped her hands and sat back down.  Both of them looking straight ahead at the podium.

Hackett’s steel blue eyes swept over the room.  “We were safer with her.  We were better with her.  And it’s my firm belief that it will a long time before any man or woman can fill the boots she left behind.”

A great and somewhat awkward silence followed that conclusion.  Hackett listened more than he spoke, but apparently when the mood struck, he spoke his mind.  The admiral resumed his seat in the first row, utterly impervious to stares and murmurs alike. 

The rest of service passed in a blur.  Anderson spoke briefly.  Alenko expected something personal from him, but he kept it short and dry- abrupt, as though the podium was burning his hands.  He gave the kind of speech he’d expected from Hackett.  Then it was a long list of people who felt their status gave them some right to comment.  Very few bore any tangible connection to Nathaly, and it became a trial to endure. 

With every eulogy, he told himself he only had to keep it together for that much longer, that he was a little closer to the end.  Liara wasn’t faring much better.  The pair of them sat there, clinging to each other, as each empty word washed over them like a poison sea.  Just trying to make it to shore.

The last was given by Shepard’s mother.  He could make her out from his seat, but her stature seemed stern, self-possessed.  She delivered her remarks in short, clipped phrases- a navy captain down to her

shoes.

On Feros, Nathaly told him that even if she died, even her parents would only talk about how dedicated she was to her duty- “just like the official eulogy”.  There wasn’t much else to say, she said.

He stared at the coffin with its Systems Alliance pall, hardly hearing the eulogy at all, and thought, _you were so much more than a rank and a damn flag._

Then the chaplain stepped back up, and there was some inoffensively generic religious doggerel, followed by the military honors, and then- finally, at last- it was over.

Around them, people rose, straightening clothes and sighing with relief, compulsory display at an end.  They streamed towards the doors.  Whatever Alenko felt then, waiting for them to leave, frozen to his seat, it wasn’t even in the neighborhood of closure.  The dead officious words had not freed him; he remained trapped in this waking nightmare.

“That was nice,” Liara said eventually.  Even innate asari diplomacy couldn’t make it less of a lie.

He shook his head.  “It wasn’t anything.”

She gave his hand a final squeeze and got to her feet, shaking out her dress.  “I’m going to say hello to the others.  You should, too.  Everyone’s been wondering…”

Liara trailed off.  The ride back to the Citadel from Alchera was the first real opportunity he’d had since the attack to breathe.  Nobody else seemed to have an appreciation of that.  Well-intentioned as their friends were, their concern only made him feel like he was going to explode, and he ended up spending most of the cruise in the airlock, where they seldom thought to look.

But he got out of the chair, and followed her down the aisle to the first several rows, where the surviving crew of the SR-1 sat in a place of honor.  Liara went to greet Dr. Chakwas.  Alenko hung back, not exactly shy, not exactly wanting to dive in either.  Most of the crew managed to scrounge up uniforms over the last several days, and he felt out of place in the civilian suit.  Not himself.  He wanted to look like himself, if only because it would paper over the things he couldn’t stop from happening and make him feel less embarrassed by how much this still hurt, over a month later.

“Kaidan,” said a familiar voice behind him, though a breather filter.

He turned, surprise momentarily chasing the shadows from his face.  “I didn’t realize you were coming back from the flotilla.”

Tali folded her hands over her stomach and straightened a bit- a gesture he had come to think of as a smile.  “Of course I did.  You don’t abandon family.”

“Family?”

“Quarians rely on our extended families.  It’s one consequence of having so few children.  The _Normandy_ is important to me.” 

“The _Normandy_ doesn’t exist anymore.”  Alenko hadn’t meant to speak the thought out loud.  Lately his mouth seemed no more under his control than his emotions.

She shifted a bit, caution in her stance.  “How are you?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked away.  “I really don’t know.”

“I heard Alchera was… horrible.”  She shuddered faintly.  “But I felt… guilty, not being there.”

“I don’t think I would have wished that on anyone, much less you.”  He meant it kindly, but it came out harsh, dismissive.

“I still wish I could have done more.”

Garrus joined them, catching the end of her statement. “Me, too.  It was hell sitting here after we heard the ship went down.”

Alenko hadn’t realized it was widely advertised.  “You heard about that?”

“We stopped getting emails or any kind of contact,” Tali said.  “Once we realized none of us had heard anything for days, we dug around until we found out what happened.”

He couldn’t think how to respond.  Every remark that came to mind was more unkind than the last.  The pause went on a few moments longer than was comfortable.  Tali tried a new tact.  “It might not mean much to say it, but I think Shepard would have thought this was a good death.  Fighting to save her crew.  Going down with the ship.  Honorable, at least.”

“That’s just it,” he said, monotonically.  “It turns out that an honorable death isn’t much different from any other kind.”

Garrus saved Tali from the necessity of a response.  “Not what I was expecting from a human funeral.”

“Oh?”  Alenko honestly could not have cared less what anyone expected of this.

“You do this thing sometimes, as a species.  You make the personal so intensely formal that it’s alienating.  It’s like you can’t handle terrible things unless you hold them at arms’ length.”  There was a bit of chastisement there- at Alenko’s reticence, or perhaps his coldness to Tali just then.

“She would have hated this,” he said, because it was true, because he could not think of anything else to say, because someone should point it out even though it was obvious.

Liara joined them.  “If Shepard had her way, she’d tell us not to grieve her at all.”

“Grief is necessary,” Tali said.

Alenko folded his arms and hunched his shoulders.  He didn’t think he’d even gotten to grief yet.  It had been a month.  There was a cultural script about losing people, how it was supposed to feel and what a person was supposed to do to get through it.  He was still waiting for it to kick in.    

Liara said, “A number of us are planning to get dinner.  It’s a quiet place- won’t ask questions, or make demands.”

“I’m in.”  Garrus looked over.  “Tali?”

“I don’t have anything else planned.”

Alenko shook his head.  “No thanks.”  


Liara’s brow creased.  “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine.”  It came out a little too quickly, as it always did.  He looked away so he wouldn’t have to see their anxious expressions.  He wasn’t in a mood to swap corny stories and try to ease the pain by laughing about it.  He wasn’t ready for that yet.  “I’m tired.  I’m just going to head back.”

“I understand.”  Her concern was undiminished, but she let the matter go with grace.

Tali touched his arm as she left.  “Please, if there’s anything we can do…”

He forced a smile of acknowledgement.  “I’ll let you know.”

The crew departed, eventually, though he had to turn down several other well-meaning invitations before it was over.  Most of the other guests were long gone.  The auditorium was cold without them, his steps seemed loud, echoing against the walls. 

The false coffin remained at the front of the room, its pall now missing, neatly folded and presented to Nathaly’s mother.  He tried to imagine what she would have thought to see it.

She didn’t believe death was real.Was she right about that?  Was there some complex waveform stretched between here and Alchera, the quantum ghost of Nathaly Shepard, still tying him in knots?  Alenko never had much use for speculation about the afterlife.  Much like her, he’d been raised to believe in something more, but it had never seemed a particularly relevant question- death happened regardless.  It would be nice to believe he’d see her again, whether in life eternal or merely as two wave patterns tangling in the void, but looking at all this ceremony, he found he didn’t.

All of sudden, he couldn’t stand the sight of that empty wooden box a second longer.  He went out into the hall through a side door, and found himself facing the long high wall of the dead.

There was no space aboard a station, even one as large as the Citadel, to store bodies.  Storing more than a pinch of ashes was rare, even here, among the wealthiest residents.  Instead they had plaques carved into a wall sheeted with polished blue stone.  Blue being the asari color of mourning, and this memorial site being centuries old.

Nathaly’s notoriety rated her a niche the size of his two spread hands, quite the luxury, with a small shelf under her name where mourners could leave tokens.  Currently, a tea candle burned in a glass cup, throwing the engraved letters into stark relief.  

He brushed his fingers over them.  _Lt. Cdr. Nathaly Zelena Shepard, Spectre.  11 April 2154 – 27 June 2183._

They used the day of the attack.  That bothered him, somehow.  Nobody knew the actual date of her death, so it shouldn’t be here, literally written in stone as if that made it true.

All along the hall, someone had set up holographic projectors, pictures and goodwill messages from thousands of people across the galaxy shimmering in the air.  He walked a little ways down the row, staring at them without really seeing any of it.  None of this- not the speeches nor the coffin nor all these empty photographs- none of it was more than ephemeral.

He hadn’t really looked at any of the pictures yet.  Not the ones he’d taken with her, not the ones people had sent to him over the last few days, not even the ones here.  His eyes slid past them in a blur of tan skin and red hair.

Shoes clicked smartly on the marble behind him.  With the funeral so long concluded, he expected a caretaker for the auditorium had come to shoo him away.  However, when he turned, he saw a somber, gray-haired woman in formal dress uniform, eyeing him speculatively. 

Alenko recognized her instantly; the resemblance to her daughter was far too strong to mistake.  He was taken aback.  “Captain.”

His body had gone more than halfway to attention automatically before he caught himself- she had the kind of bearing that demanded such respect without uttering a word.  Saluting, however, seemed out of place.

She continued to study him.  “So.  You’re Lieutenant Alenko.”

His brow furrowed.  “How did you-“

“I looked up your personnel file after Nathaly first mentioned you.”  Her tone was mild, but there was little warmth in it. 

Alenko swallowed, and fidgeted with his hands behind his back.  “I’m… sorry for your loss.”

A kind of weariness crept into her face, and a touch of her sternness evaporated.  Hannah Shepard shook her head.  “Don’t be.  It’s been many years since I had any expectation that I wouldn’t outlive my daughter.  I knew I’d be here one day.”

It was a disturbingly blunt admission.  Some of his discomfort must have shown, because she offered him a very cynical look and harrumphed.  “You’ll find life is full of enough dishonesty without adding to it out of politeness.”

He really didn’t know what to say to that, so he turned back to the memorial wall.  Back, inevitably, to Nathaly’s name flickering in the candlelight.  Her gaze followed his.  “So many people clinging to a public tragedy to try to feel like they’re part of something big.”

“Some of it’s real.”  They’d touched the lives of countless people over the course of their mission, from the Eden Prime survivors to the colonists of Feros to the ordinary human beings Shepard’s public identity had inspired to reach for more. 

Hannah raised an eyebrow, so like her daughter that Alenko glanced away.  He cleared his throat.  “The worst part about this charade is there was something about her that was bigger than herself.  It’s not all political hay.”

The eyebrow went up another notch- but if anything, she seemed to approve, as though he’d passed some sort of hidden test.  “You’d mock a funeral to a grieving parent?” 

“I don’t know what this was, but it wasn’t a funeral in anything but name.”

“I’m leaving here to return to Mars for a more private memorial,” Hannah admitted.  She continued to skim the grief messages.  “Family only.”

“I guess her father was too sick to make the trip out here, anyway.”

“Nathaly was always his child, even from infancy.  I never got half the devotion.”  There was no acrimony in her.  She sighed.  “Thirty-five years of marriage and I have no idea what to say to my own husband to make this any less painful.  A sad story.”

“At least you’ll be there in person soon,” Alenko offered.  “That has to help a little.”

The critical stare returned.  “My daughter was very fond of you.”

His cheeks warmed despite himself.  “I’m… I was very fond of her, too.”

“The day before she died, she replied to one of her father’s emails.”  Hannah paused, unsure of herself for the first time in this whole strange conversation.  “She said you were moving in together.  Here, aboard the Citadel.”

His throat closed up, remembering the cavernous vacancy awaiting him in his empty apartment.  “We were.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, licked her lips.  “Can you- can you tell me what happened?  On the ship, when it was going down?”

He recognized her look.  It was the same haunting uncertainty he felt whenever he thought about Nathaly’s last minutes, the need to know what it was like, even if it could only make him feel worse.  “I…”  He took a breath.  “The first attack hit us hard.  The whole ship was on fire.  She ran down to the battery to launch a distress beacon and try to prevent the flames from reaching the munitions.”

Alenko had to pause for a long moment.  The memory was as clear and painfully sharp as broken glass.  The sounds of panicked crew and a growing blaze, out of sight; sweat soaking the underlayer of his hardsuit; Nathaly’s adrenaline-laced calm lending her that frightening, impersonal intensity she sometimes got in bad situations.  How the fire extinguisher gushed foam all over his hands, laughably weak.

Hannah didn’t prod him, but waited silently, expectation mixed with dread on her face.

“I found her.  I went to… to haul her off the ship.  I was afraid she wouldn’t leave otherwise, that she wouldn’t be able to abandon the people who couldn’t make it.  Instead she ordered me to evacuate the crew while she went topside to help our disabled pilot.”  He couldn’t continue to look at Hannah, so instead he stared at Nathaly’s name on the wall, blinking rapidly.  “I don’t know why I let her do that.”

“Your commanding officer gave you a direct order.”  The gentleness of her tone startled him into glancing at her face.  No condemnation waited there.  “You did exactly what you were supposed to do.  No one would blame you for that, and you shouldn’t either.” 

He couldn’t help it.  No matter what reassurances he was offered, he knew what happened was his fault.  He had one job when the ship went down, and he failed.  Alenko swallowed.  “As you say, ma’am.”

Hannah paused, glanced at the ceiling, as if choosing her next words carefully.  “Nathaly held something of a reputation for defying regulations.”

He laughed, spontaneous and bitter, because that was an understatement if ever one was made.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-“

“Nonsense.  It’s the truth.”  Hannah shrugged, eloquently.  “However, it was my experience that she seldom did so without an excellent reason.  I’ve wanted to meet you.”

“I know what it must look like.”

“I think she would say it matters more what it is.”  Hannah smiled at him then, free of any judgment, and offered him what she held in her hand.  “Here.”

He looked down, saw the triangular folds of Shepard’s burial flag, and was openly shocked.  Captain Shepard continued, “Paul and I talked about it.  We have all the mementos any two people need to remember our daughter.  You don’t have anything.”

When he didn’t say anything, she held it out a little higher.  “I think Nathaly would have liked you to have it.  Please.”

He took it, slowly.  “Thank you.  I- I don’t know what to say.”

“Take care of yourself, Lieutenant.”  She paused.  “Pick yourself up, and get back to your post.”

Alenko continued to stare at the flag.  “Thank you, ma’am.”

Hannah nodded once, sparingly, and left.

In the cab on the way back to his unwanted apartment, he turned the folded flag over and over in his hands, not knowing what to make of it.  The depth of the gesture was unmistakable, but at the same time, it was such cold comfort that he almost despaired of using it as any kind of remembrance.  A bit of cloth she’d never even touched, exactly like thousands of other bits of cloth handed out the last several months to families across the Alliance. 

The taxi’s vid console played the news.  Shepard’s funeral broke the monotony of endless reports about cleaning up after the geth, and so it got significant billing.  Reporters interviewed guests as they exited the auditorium, while Alenko had hung back and contemplated the utter futility of ritual.  One of them was Commander Laine.

Alenko was just as glad that he hadn’t noticed the man while he was there.  Few people had ever managed to get under his skin like Laine.  He stood at a microphone on the steps some hours earlier, sobbing inconsolably and without any trace of shame about the death of his “closest friend”.  It was the kind of production that made Alenko vicariously embarrassed, just by watching.  He glanced from Laine’s tear-streaked face to the Alliance flag in his lap and felt a small spark of indifferent victory.  But in truth, Laine probably had plenty of trinkets- things she’d left at his place over the years, letters, a decade’s worth of photographs. 

Alenko didn’t need physical reminders to help him keep her close.  But right then, at that moment, after spending the day drowning in spiritual remembrance, he’d give anything for just a pinch of the tangible- some small piece of her life he could hold and smell and see with his eyes, to tell him she was real when he felt like he was going crazy.  Every last bit of that went down with the _Normandy_.

He wondered if her cabin was severely damaged, or if it was spinning over Alchera, still filled to the brim with her mess.  If he closed his eyes, he could picture her stretched out on the couch, her ankles flopped over the end like a careless teenager, curled up in that old leather jacket because nobody ever could fix the thermostat on Deck 2-

Alenko blinked.  She didn’t have the jacket in the Terminus.  She left it on the Citadel, when she saw Anderson.

He overheard the transmission, when she called to see if the restaurant could hold it for her.  He knew where it was.  There was the slimmest chance they might still have it…  But why would they give it to him?  As far as the public was concerned, Shepard didn’t have a romantic bone in her body. 

It didn’t matter.  No sooner had the thought formed than he _needed_ that jacket.  Alenko leaned forward and reprogrammed the taxi for a new destination. 

When he arrived, he still didn’t have much of a plan, but he gave the taxi a credit line to wait, stepped out, and tried to calm his nerves.  A few deep breaths later, he walked inside.

The restaurant was still in that dead space between lunch and dinner.  The few staff on duty were wiping tables, rolling napkins, and attending to other side work, while the hostess stood bored at her station.  Alenko cleared his throat.  It felt rusty.  He tried to remember the last time he’d had a perfectly normal conversation.  “Good afternoon.”

Her hand was already reaching for a menu.  “Just one today?”

“No.”  He cleared his throat again. “No, I needed to talk about something else.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit, immediately suspicious.  He smoothed the front of his jacket and tried to sound less creepy.  “I’m with Alliance Naval… Bereavement Services.”

“Uh-huh.”  She shook her head.  “Why are you-“

“I’m here about an item in your lost and found,” he said, a little more natural.  “You’re holding a jacket belonging to Commander Shepard.”

It was easier to say her name like that, official, more a title than a woman.  The hostess, however, grew only more confused.  “The Alliance came all the way out here to get an old jacket?”

“I’m not Alliance.  I’m a contractor.”  If the navy did have something like “bereavement services”, it undoubtedly would be outsourced.  “The jacket was handed down from her father.  She mentioned leaving it here to him.  Obviously, many of her personal possessions were destroyed.  We had a special request to attempt to recover it.”

That was close enough to the truth without actually being true- enough to allow Alenko, who was a terrible liar, to wait with an expression of mild eagerness matching the overpaid errand boy he was pretending to be. 

He could tell she was still questioning this whole affair, but apparently the casual use of detail swayed her, or maybe it was simply too much trouble for something as trivial as a forgotten jacket.  “Just one moment.”

A few minutes later, he was back in the taxi, with the jacket in his hands, the car flying high over the ward now, one of a thousand other vehicles on their way home.  The jacket was just as he remembered.  Worn, cracked like old leather did, fraying at the cuffs and molded to her arms and her shoulders.  He could almost see the shape of her if he held it up. 

Tentatively, hesitantly- embarrassed and oddly afraid- he raised the collar to his nose and took a deep breath. 

It still smelled exactly like her.

That one solid whiff dissolved every careful dam he’d erected over the last month in a single great rush.  All the experiences he’d been trying to bury, all the memories, pushed ahead of the flood and carried him away with it.  There she was in the battery flames.  There she wasn’t in every small action down on Alchera.  She smiled at him from that hideous funerary portrait and the first time she walked into that tiny conference room on Mars and looked around at her new command. 

He clung to her coat, trying not to soak it, and curled up on the seat, alone.


	61. Epilogue: Red Sky at Morning

** Epilogue: Red Sky at Morning **

Hackett and Anderson stood in the office of the Ambassador from Earth, serving now as the Councilor’s suite, and gazed out over the waters of the Presidium.  Here, the damage from Sovereign was minimal.  Other areas of the Presidium were not so fortunate.  They need only look in the direction of the tower to be reminded.

Neither man had spoken for some time. 

At last, testing the ice underfoot, Hackett said, “It’s going to be hard.  There’s not one in a thousand marines who come close to Shepard’s resourcefulness.”

On the balcony, Anderson’s hand curled into an unconscious fist.  “Damn it, Steven.  We just came from the funeral.  For one day can we not talk about her like that, like she was some sort of- of rare commodity?”

Admiral Hackett regarded Councilor Anderson, a bit taken aback.  “As you say.”

Anderson let out a breath and rubbed his face, and tried to settle his nerves.  He was feeling his age of late; today, he felt as tired as a worn-out book with faded ink and pages rubbed shiny.  “You know, the first time I met Shepard she was only three years old.  Hannah Shepard’s an old friend.  I was in the neighborhood, we met for lunch, and she brought her daughter along, to show off.  Red hair all done up in pigtails.”

He flattened his hands, staring down into nothing.  “There was this dog.  It was driving everyone crazy, yapping and snarling, bored out of its skull, and of course its owner wasn’t paying any mind.  We’re trying to eat, and all of a sudden we realize Nathaly is toddling over towards the creature, bold as you please.  Hannah about had a heart attack- she was too far away to do much.  Well, the dog starts to lunge for her, and she simply puts her hands on her hips and says, in the most ironclad tone you ever heard come out of a little girl’s mouth, ‘Stop.’  No fuss, didn’t even raise her voice.  ‘Stop.’”

Anderson started to laugh, the sad kind of laughter people get when they’re trying not to cry.  “And I’ll be damned if that mutt didn’t sit right down on its haunches and cower.  Three years old.”

There were a few seconds of silence, and Hackett said, “We can do this later.  I apologize.”

“No, you’re right.  We have to do it now, there’s no time to waste.”  Anderson straightened and swiped at his eyes.  “The reapers are still out there.”

“I hate to say it, but as a spectre, even a controversial one, Shepard had more engagement with the Council in six months than Udina did in the last five years as ambassador.”

“It wasn’t exactly a good relationship.”

“It was downright acrimonious.  That didn’t seem to stop progress.”  Hackett stroked his chin.  “The spectres are agents-at-large for the Council and they take their reports seriously, regardless of how Shepard felt about their level of commitment.  You may be a councilor now, but that’s not the same thing-“

“-as actual respect.”  Anderson snorted.  “I’m well aware.”

“And meanwhile we’ve got to find a way to prepare for a galaxy-wide war.”  He shook his head.  “Sooner or later, whatever else is out there is going to wonder what the hell happened to Sovereign.”

“If what’s waiting on the edges of the galaxy has Sovereign’s power…”  Anderson trailed off.  Even imagining such a force was impossible.

“We need another spectre.”  Hackett tactfully avoided the phrasing _new spectre_.

“Candidates are traditionally nominated by existing spectres, not Council members- though it’s highly political, of course.”  Anderson let out a breath.  “We had two candidates in as many decades.  Getting a third- that could take years.”

“We may not have years.”

/\/\/\/\/\

Deep in the heart of the galaxy, within the brightly burning isolation of the inner core, there rested an entity of extraordinary age and bearing.  In its own way, it was perhaps immortal; though from another perspective, it was merely undefeated.

Endowed of an unearthly patience, it brooded in a warm wash of toxic radiation, flirting coldly with the event horizon of the galaxy’s supermassive black hole.  The distant mass relay was no more than a gentle blue spark lost in the stellar cacophony.  Beside it rested a strange ship of wasp nests, bound by metal and adorned with novel weaponry.  The ship never left the entity’s sensors, not entirely, not for a moment.  It was a precious resource which had proven its worth on more than one occasion.  The Alliance officers pouring over the residual data from _Normandy’s_ computers might have recognized it.  Few others would.

The entity rarely woke.  Energy was of no concern, not here, and boredom was not something it could comprehend, but there was seldom any reason for activation and it was not in its nature to be busy when it should be idle.  It waited until it was needed.  Periodically, it sampled the communications channels lacing the galaxy, seeking out any tidbits of interest that might hint at this cycle’s progress.

News of Sovereign’s careless war reached its receptors, at which point the entity began to listen quite carefully indeed.

Disagreement was as foreign as boredom, yet, Sovereign’s assignment to this cycle and those before it had always been a matter of concern.  Sovereign was very young; only several tens of cycles.  A bit of personality was an unavoidable side effect of the assimilation process.  Sovereign was not merely implacable, but proud.  It never thought to ask why a new herald was required, never guessed that a task could be menial as well as important.  Its very name, from one perspective, meant independent; from another, it meant alone.

When news came of Sovereign’s destruction- of Sovereign’s failure- the entity awoke completely.

It experienced no chagrin over how events unfolded.  The news was only so much data, compiled with its other experiences, which marginally but perceptibly altered the trajectory of its plans.  The spectacular nature of Sovereign’s defeat was unexpected.  It reached out its feelers through the relay system, tasted of the data streams, and traced the catastrophe back to a single organic- who was promptly dealt with.  But it remained intrigued.

These creatures, these humans, had tenacity it had not seen in many dark ages.  Further study was required.  Was the entity’s own namesake not the sign of things to come?  Sooner or later, its companions beyond the reaches of the galaxy would know what had occurred.  It had signaled as much to the edge of the relay network, and from there the message made its long tiring way through dark space.  That did not mean all work need await their arrival.

Like a glacier flowing slowly to the sea, it came to a decision, and stretched a tendril of its will to the ship resting close at hand.  Within the control room, a chittering creature stiffened as the signal reached its brain.

 _I am assuming direct control_ , Harbinger whispered.  _The harvest will continue._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who stuck with this story to the end! Your encouragement has meant the world to me. 
> 
> Nathaly’s journey continues in February with Mass Effect: Labyrinth, as she struggles to reconcile working for Cerberus and losing two years of her life while facing down her most impossible challenge yet. Meanwhile, back in the Alliance, Kaidan uncovers a secret with dire implications for the future- and the past.


	62. Post-Epilogue: No One Is Ever Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this recently while working on something for the sequel. It fits better here than there, or as a one-shot. Consider it a little bonus. This scene takes place shortly after Nathaly’s death, at her parents’ home on Mars.

 

Hannah Shepard stepped out into the dark, into the primordial chill of Hellas Basin.  She closed her eyes against the night and inhaled deeply, tucking her wine glass to her chest, just standing in the cold silence and still air.  Letting the burden of playing hostess to mourners fall away.  The clocks had stopped for Martian midnight, the not-quite-real half hour between 2359 and the new day, an effort to keep pace with Earth and a time that felt as delusional as everything lately. 

Nathaly’s skycar sat in the driveway.  A cherry red 2160 Fire Starter.  She spent all of her navy enlistment bonus, and her first month’s salary, and an advance on her second month’s acquiring it, not one day after she finished boot camp.  Then called her father begging for grocery money a week after that, when she found out what navy food was like on the outer moons.

Paul had given it to her, of course.  He could never deny her anything.  He left that unpleasant task to her mother.

Hannah ran her palm over the canopy, and heard an echo of her daughter’s strangled outcry at leaving a handprint on the glass.  But the planitia dust carried by the last storm had covered the car in a fine rust coating, and all she managed was a smear of desiccated soil.  God, but she’d lectured her until her ears burned, when she bought the damn thing.  Not that her shouting ever made any difference.  Nathaly was Nathaly.  The purpose of rules or prudence or even rational behavior simply eluded her. 

But it also gave her a certain exuberance.  That same young woman who drove herself into debt had been a little girl who played in the rafters of a carrier hanger like they were monkey bars, swinging from beam to beam while Hannah stood below with her heart in her throat.  She’d yelled at her to come down, and she had, her face flushed with a smile lightyears wide.  To this day, Hannah didn’t know how Nathaly even got into the hanger. 

A brief burst of noise, murmurs of voices— their family and friends gathered inside the hab— and a block of light reflecting off the car.  Hannah turned.  Paul closed the hatch.  Rubbed his arms.  “Cold night.”

“It’s Mars,” she said.

He came up beside her.  Shivering now and then.  “She hated the cold.  Used to wait for the school bus bundled up in three sweatshirts, a hat and a jacket, in the dead of summer.”

She closed her eyes again.  Her voice a sigh, tired and ancient as the planitia surrounding them.  “I can’t.”

He touched her shoulder.  Tentative.  She’d been standoffish since she arrived, speaking little if at all, keeping busy preparing for the informal memorial tonight.  “Hannah—”

“I can’t,” she repeated, sharper than before.  “If I have to spend one more second in that house, with those people, pouring over old pictures and telling stories—”

Paul put his arms around her, pulling her tight to his chest.  For several long moments, she let herself sink into him, face hidden in his shoulder, throat swelling shut, her eyes hot with tears.  She finally lost it on the shuttle from the Citadel, after the public funeral.  A private breakdown in the tiny bathroom, while some impatient frat boy still hungover from a party weekend pounded on the door and complained other people needed it.

Losing her composure never provided Hannah with any solace.  She preferred privacy, and decorum, and going about her life as usual until it was usual again.  But her daughter was dead, and that one clarion fact cut across all her effort to cope quietly.

She stood like a statue, feeling her husband’s arms warm where they touched her, the crystalline biting cold where they did not.  Listening to their neighbors two doors down fumble up the walk after a night out, apologizing to the sitter for keeping her so late.  Rubbing the dust from Nathaly’s car slowly into her palm.  “Did we fail her?”

Paul stiffened.  Shifted slightly to look at her face.  “What are you talking about?”

“I spent half her life telling her no.”  She let out a helpless, baffled laugh.  “Even when she was born.  I had ten days left when my commander packed me onto a shuttle and sent me to Arcturus to start leave.  But we got through the relay and she started to come— I kept saying no, over and over, because it was all wrong and too soon and I couldn’t stop her, even then.”

“I remember,” he said, not without a wisp of humor, smoothing his hand across her cheek.  “You were incoherent on the comm afterwards.  I’ve never heard you so undone, before or since.”

Hannah let out a small chuckle, despite herself.  Twenty-nine years later it had lost all its trauma.  Even on a night like this.  “That poor private on the shuttle with me.  I think I scarred her for life.”

Paul leaned in, resting his chin on her shoulder, his voice in her ear.  “Somewhere, her own parents are cursing you for the grandchildren they never had.”

She rested her head against his, fumbling at the wine glass, looking out into the night.  “And then there she was, our Nathaly.  All our things were on Earth.  I didn’t have a crib, I didn’t have a car seat, I didn’t have a diaper or stitch of clothing for her, but there she was, expecting me to figure it out.”

“But you did,” Paul said.  Trying to comfort her, though Hannah herself could not have told him how.  “When I got to Arcturus a week later, you’d slapped together a nursery that would put any expert to shame.  You can manage anything.  You’ll go on about how she was my daughter, but that part of Nathaly always belonged to you.”

“I just…” She swallowed, thickly.  Drew away and took a sip of the wine to clear her throat.  Focused on the neighbors, who were now trying to convince the sitter to let them drive her home.  “Maybe if she’d had a mother who knew how to say yes, or at least yes-but, maybe she wouldn’t have run so far in the other direction.”

“No, no.”  He turned her around.   Eased his hand over her silver hair in a gentle, soothing motion.   “Hannah, no.  Our Zey-Zey was always going to run the way the wind blew her.  It’s how she was made.”

They both froze up for a moment, as the neighbor’s air car trundled by, but they drove on oblivious to the gaping wound in Hannah’s front yard.  It was a relief and an offense to go unnoticed, this reminder that most of the world had gone on without them.

Paul frowned.  “Their stabilizer’s going.  I keep telling them to have it looked at— one day it’ll fail and someone’s going to get hurt.”

Hannah read his frustration for the projection it was, because they both understood their daughter, and it hurt too much to be angry with her, so they might as well rant about the neighbor’s car.  But just for a moment, she didn’t want to hide or pretend. 

She shook her head.  “You know, when I saw that boyfriend of hers on the Citadel, I told him I always expected this?  To bury her, I mean.”

“You can’t mean that,” he said, his face falling, back down into the grief she saw when he first met her at their door, yesterday evening.  The kind she couldn’t begin to heal, either.

“I did mean it.  You’d have to be a fool to believe her life wouldn’t kill her one day.”  Her voice so bitter it could pucker the air.  But then she put her hand over her face, hiding her eyes, struggling with the words.  “But I didn’t want her to go, I never wanted— I never—”

Paul took the wineglass and did something with it, she couldn’t see what.  And then he held her again, rocking them both, his hand on her head and his cheek pressed into her ear.  “Shhh.  Shhh.”

She couldn’t speak.  Instead, Hannah clung to him, bunching up his shirt in her hands, frustrated and ashamed and annoyed and angry, at this lapse of self-possession, at the family still inside her house, cluttering it up so she had to stand out here on the street, at her daughter for being the way she was and for failing Paul like this now, taking his comfort instead of giving it.  That was her job.  To be a pillar, hard and immoveable as stone, to hold her family up.  Now she was only water.

But Paul had known her nearly forty years.  He knew very well these kinds of displays didn’t help her.  So after a fairly short while, he asked, “Did you like him?”

She was startled out of her misery, just for a fraction of a second.  “Who?”

“The boyfriend,” he said.  She could feel him smiling, just a little, at the absurdity of the question.  The attempt to normalize something beyond all normality.

“You know, I did?”  And then she was laughing, a sad kind of laughter she couldn’t stop, burying her face in his shoulder and muffling her voice.  “I’ve never liked any of her partners so of course this is the one that got to me.”

“Now I wish I had gone to the Citadel with you,” he teased.  They said his medical problems prevented him from traveling.  Really, neither of them had wanted to go, but Hannah was able to do that one small thing for him.  It felt like trying to sop up a tsunami with a dishrag. 

After another minute, he nudged her.  “You can’t leave it at that.”

She scoffed.  “He…”

Then she sighed again, and gently detached herself.  Found the wine on the roof of the car and took another sip, and ran her hand through her hair.  “You know they brought her to the medical deck aboard my ship.”

“The night after Saren attacked the Citadel?  I remember.”

“She had a brain injury.  And my skipper didn’t see fit to inform me until nearly dawn.”  She frowned, leaning against the vehicle.  Her C.O. needed his executive officer in the CIC, doing her job.  The battle’s aftermath left the fleet in crisis.  In his shoes, she’d have made the same call.  But it didn’t do much to ease the sting.  “I ran down to Deck 10.  I outran the nurse manning the door.”

Hannah could recall it so clearly.  Sixteen hours after the battle ended, the medical staff had finally finished the initial triage, the facility at complete capacity.  A kind of calm had descended over the deck.  It could never be silent, not with so many injured, but with the lights down and all but the worst cases asleep, quiet reigned— save for the staccato click of her shoes over the tile.

“I found her bed just as the nurse caught up to me.”  Her hand went to her mouth.  There was her daughter, her baby, surrounded by medical equipment with a halo monitor on her head.  “Alenko was asleep beside her.  There wasn’t even an arm’s length between beds, much less any room for a chair.  So he just climbed up next to her.”

She’d simply stared when she saw them.  The kind of stare that had the nurse stammering apologies.  “The staff said he refused to leave.”

Paul blinked.  “He stayed there all night?”

“He had a gash on his forehead.  The nurse said they had to replace the field bandage right there, because he wouldn’t let Nathaly out his sight.”  She could see him still, an exhausted slump with his arm curled around her daughter, protective even in sleep.  “And then she woke up.”

“She woke up?”  His brow furrowed.  “You told me she didn’t wake for two days—”

“Just a little.  She was confused.  Disoriented.”  Hannah took a breath, let it out slowly.  Because there was a part of her that wondered— would always wonder— whether that head injury was the reason they were here now, in mourning.  It made the memory that much scarier.  “She couldn’t remember where she was.  Alenko woke up as soon as she stirred.”

_His head lifted off the pillow.  “Hey, it’s ok.  You’re in the hospital.”_

_She looked around, a bit frantic.  “Kaidan—”_

_“I’m right here.”  This said with a certain patience, as though he’d said it before.  Quelling her panic before it could bloom.  “The ship’s fine.  Liara’s fine.”_

_“Where am I?”_

_“You’re in the hospital,” he repeated.  Neither of them took any note of their audience._

Aloud, Hannah said, “The nurse told me she kept asking the same things, over and over.  That memory lapses were common with head trauma, and talking to her helped.  I’m her mother and I don’t think I could have endured more than an hour of that.”

Paul had gone pale.  “You never mentioned any of this.”

“She asked for ice cream,” Hannah said, her voice catching.  “Barely conscious and she was still begging for sugar.  That’s when I knew if she survived there wouldn’t be any permanent damage.”

He took a shaky breath.  Crossed his arms and looked away.  “I had to hide the hot chocolate when she was little.  She got up early when she was seven and made three gallons of it.”

“I remember.”  She found she couldn’t look at him anymore, either.  So instead she looked off down the street.  Watching the red blink of the highway marker, a few klicks away, the fading taillights of the car.  “And the time she was thirteen, and ruined the coffee maker in quarters on the _Tai Shan_ , using soda instead of water.”

“You had to explain to the twenty other officers living in the family housing why they wouldn’t have morning coffee until you made port.”  He reached out and took her hand, startling her.  She looked into his face and saw him smiling.  Fond, and a little sad, but a smile all the same.  Gently, he asked, “And did Alenko get her the ice cream?”

“He said sure, he’d get her some from the mess.  And then waited a few minutes for her to fall back asleep.”  Her face crumbled.  “I never got to tell her that stupid boy treated her better than anyone she’s ever chosen, and she should never let him go.”

And though she wouldn’t admit it, that was when Alenko won over Hannah Shepard.  He had to realize Nathaly would never remember this act of endurance and love, and he was doing it anyway.  Because she needed him right then, and he was there.

Paul’s fingers tightened on hers.  “I’m glad she had that.  At the end.  I’m glad he was there with her.”

She sniffed, and wiped at her nose.  Glanced away and back again.  “He’s a mess.  I only spoke to him for ten minutes after the funeral, and he was barely holding together with spit and string.”

“I know you haven’t been watching the news.”

“I don’t understand how you can.” 

His thumb ran over her knuckles.  Quelling.  “I’ve had a VI filtering out the bad stuff.  And what’s left…  Hannah, so many people loved her.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.  “They loved the idea of her.”

A long pause.  “We should go back inside.  They’re going to wonder what happened to us.”

Hannah bit her lip.  Finished off the last of her wine in one swallow, and gave him a nod.  He slipped his arm around her waist and they turned back to the hab.

As they headed inside, leaning into each other, she said, “I miss her, Paul.  I miss her so much.”

He kissed her hair, and opened the door.

 


End file.
